Mental Health Mondays: Hospitalisation Part 2 / Ward One
This blog picks up talking from the first MHM I did where I talked about being hospitalised.
This is a more in-depth view of what happened during that time. This actually is the third time but by far the most severe hospitalisation event for me. In time I will write about the other times.
They thought I was a danger to myself.
This is a more in-depth view of what happened during that time. This actually is the third time but by far the most severe hospitalisation event for me. In time I will write about the other times.
They thought I was a danger to myself.
They assumed that I was a danger to myself.
They never stopped to actually listen what I had to say.
"I take these tablets to clear my head. I'm using them as anti-depressants in a way. They allow a thin layer of fog to coat my brain and choke off depressive thoughts. Sometimes it doesn't matter if I live or die. In a way, we are all dead. It's my sadness I want to escape from. It's the obsessive thoughts that scream at me how worthless I am, that I want to escape from."
The woman I spoke to took this as, "I want to kill myself. These tablets are a way of doing it." Once again, I was saddled with a twat who wasn't qualified and didn't listen. She told me that she would be right back, she needed to speak to her supervisor, who I assumed was a doctor, before I could get a prescription. She lied to me. When she returned 15 minutes later, she informed me that I would be put in an ambulance and be taken to hospital. At hospital they would look over me and give me what I needed there. More lies. I asked her if I could just get a ride to hospital, as my ride was sitting outside. She told me that wasn't an option, but didn't tell me why.
I wasn't told that I was sectioned until they refused to let me leave. It wasn't actually until the following morning when a woman came in and told me that, "We have decided you are a danger to yourself. You expressed carelessness for your life and admitted that you were suicidal. You will be here for the time being where we can have you moved to a secure mental health facility." I asked her what the fuck she was talking about. I told her that I'd only gone into the clinic to get a prescription for an anti-depressant to help me through the shit that was going on. To this, she didn't reply so I said, "I'd like to call a solicitor. I don't think this is right." She told me that I couldn't do that and that I had to stay in the little secure cell (cage) until a doctor came in to speak to me.
I didn't understand what the fuck was going on. She left the room without another word, refusing to let me make any phone calls. They'd stripped me of everything when I'd arrived except a book, which funnily enough dealt with rape, aggressive behaviours and other mental health issues. They took my shoulder bag and locked it in a small locker, which I could see out of my cage window. They also took away my doll. My lifeline. I had enough sense in me not to scream and kick for him, though that was my instinct to do so. I knew that I had to play along in order to get him back.
I slide to the door, which they hadn't locked yet. "Can I have my doll?" The words oozed out of me, drippingly sweet. "Please? I promise I'll be good." The woman looked at me. "Has be been checked for weapons?" "No, but I'm sure you could do it. He's right in there, in my lock box with my other things." My smile is so huge, I think it might rip off my face and splatter onto the grungy floor. "Well, since you asked so nicely." BINGO. She walked over, unlocked my box and felt around in the doll. "Doesn't seem to be anything dangerous. Here you are." She handed him to me and I felt a rush of victory. I imagined this is how Hitler must have felt when he conquered Poland. Grinning like the loon they believed me to be, I retreated into my cell, cuddled up and fell asleep. I hoped this was all some kind of perverse nightmare and that I would soon wake.
After what felt like only a few minutes, the lights overhead seemed to grow brighter and I was roused by a man wearing white. "This can't be Heaven. If it was, the beds would be actual fucking beds." I rubbed my eyes and realised I was still in my steel prison. "Can I go home now?" "No, I'm just here to take your temperature, pulse and to see if you've harmed yourself during the night." Jesus fuckin Christ. If I had a deathwish, I sure as Hell wouldn't want to do it here. That's the whole idea of suicide-to make sure you finish the act. Trying to attempt suicide is like trying to steal from a free market. An empty endeavour. "Pulse is good. Temp is okay...for you." He reaches for my wrists and I offer them over. "Can I go home now? I have a deadline that I have to meet and I'm going away on tour, you know, it's my job?" "Well, we'll have to see." See? SEE WHAT? As soon as he disappears from the door, I kick the meal tray. I AM NOT A FUCKING ANIMAL. Boiling with rage, I wrench my book in and try and calm myself.
The reason that I am writing this story in parts is because I feel its too long just for a single blog. It's also difficult to write about this experience because I fear that it will burden my opportunities, but it needs to be done. Other people need to see what it's like. They need to see and know that they are not alone.
I slide to the door, which they hadn't locked yet. "Can I have my doll?" The words oozed out of me, drippingly sweet. "Please? I promise I'll be good." The woman looked at me. "Has be been checked for weapons?" "No, but I'm sure you could do it. He's right in there, in my lock box with my other things." My smile is so huge, I think it might rip off my face and splatter onto the grungy floor. "Well, since you asked so nicely." BINGO. She walked over, unlocked my box and felt around in the doll. "Doesn't seem to be anything dangerous. Here you are." She handed him to me and I felt a rush of victory. I imagined this is how Hitler must have felt when he conquered Poland. Grinning like the loon they believed me to be, I retreated into my cell, cuddled up and fell asleep. I hoped this was all some kind of perverse nightmare and that I would soon wake.
After what felt like only a few minutes, the lights overhead seemed to grow brighter and I was roused by a man wearing white. "This can't be Heaven. If it was, the beds would be actual fucking beds." I rubbed my eyes and realised I was still in my steel prison. "Can I go home now?" "No, I'm just here to take your temperature, pulse and to see if you've harmed yourself during the night." Jesus fuckin Christ. If I had a deathwish, I sure as Hell wouldn't want to do it here. That's the whole idea of suicide-to make sure you finish the act. Trying to attempt suicide is like trying to steal from a free market. An empty endeavour. "Pulse is good. Temp is okay...for you." He reaches for my wrists and I offer them over. "Can I go home now? I have a deadline that I have to meet and I'm going away on tour, you know, it's my job?" "Well, we'll have to see." See? SEE WHAT? As soon as he disappears from the door, I kick the meal tray. I AM NOT A FUCKING ANIMAL. Boiling with rage, I wrench my book in and try and calm myself.
The reason that I am writing this story in parts is because I feel its too long just for a single blog. It's also difficult to write about this experience because I fear that it will burden my opportunities, but it needs to be done. Other people need to see what it's like. They need to see and know that they are not alone.
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