Friday in the Mental Health Unit was a bit of a blur (if you
find that sentence confusing, go back three blog entries and start from there). Because I caused such a scene on entry (see
my “breakout attempt) and was so worked up the doctor had ordered 2 mg of
Ativan to calm me down. Ativan is a
commonly used anti-anxiety medication.
Where a person would normally take 0.05 mg when having a full on panic
attack I was given again, 2 mg! I still
had the overdose in my system, add in the Ativan and wham, instant nap
time. I fell asleep still crying about
being there. I was awoken by Nurse
Ratchet asking if I was going to eat with the other inmates Friday night for
dinner. “Uhhhhh no!” I shockingly exclaimed
(I am no inmate!), *insert pout here*, “I am not hungry”, *pout*. She reminded me that my one of my Bi Polar medications
required that I eat 250 calories minimum.
I reminded her I didn’t give a rat’s ass. She reminded me that my husband, being that
it was in fact my actual 44th birthday (Happy Birthday to me, Happy
Birthday to me….sing along if you will), had brought me a chocolate cake into
the Loonie Bin. I am aware that’s not a
politically correct wording for the Mental Health Unit but I am allowed to say
that as an official inmate. I reminded
Nurse Ratchet that I had better birthdays in my lifetime and perhaps the other
inmates would like the cake as sure as fuck I wasn’t eating it. “Throw it away for all I care”, *insert
another pout here*, I said. And finally
Nurse Ratchet reminded me why I named her Nurse Ratchet when she explained that
my attitude wasn’t going to help my “situation”. “This time, and this time only” she warned me,
she would allow me to have Ensure to drink for dinner but that I would have to
come to the Nurse’s Station for my medication like a “big girl”. I am sure she was calling me chunky
there. I am sure of it. I didn’t come out of my room again that
Friday. Another nurse, a nice nurse,
brought me my medication when I didn’t show up in the medication line up at the
nurse’s station. Apparently Nurse
Ratchet had enough of me by then.
I have to say for a system that is broke, the facilities
weren’t as bad as I expected. I am sure
the flat plastic covered pillows are because of lice, and fleas and other
things that make me shudder in my sleep to this day. It had a pillow case over it, that’s pretty
good right? I quickly had Dan bring my
Tempurpedic pillow from home. I am a
pillow snob admittedly. The sheets were
thread bare but soft enough over the hard plastic of the thin flat mattress. They provided a cotton throw like blanket
that admittedly I found comforting. It
was very “family cottage” like. I wonder
if they planned that? I still had Dan
bring me my favorite blanket too. I
needed comforts from home. I was lucky
as the room I was in was private, with its own ensuite half bathroom (toilet
and sink). I suppose for those that come
in from a homeless place, the place was bliss.
Think about that. To them, the
place would be heaven just because it had a roof over it. Your own bed and pillow, imagine the luxury!
When I was told Saturday by the nurse that breakfast was
there, I realized the kid gloves were off and I had to fend for myself. Off I went to the kitchen. There I found a mobile cupboard filled with
labeled trays. I found mine and took the
furthest corner away from everyone and the closest seat to the exit. I still didn’t want to be shivved, we were
inmates after all! I have watched Orange
is the New Black and Oz you know.
Once seated I looked up and immediately caught the eyes of “Twitchy”. She was a lovely looking woman, older, in her
50s likely, cropped hair, dressed nice, electronic cigarette always in hand and
a sort of twitch like manner to her movements, hence the name. She immediately smiled and said, “Hello,
welcome”. I mumbled “Hi” back and looked
to her right where I met eyes with “Jumpy”.
A doe eyed youngster who looked like she was trying to leap out from her
own skin. She was so young or so it
appeared to me. No more than 20 in all likelihood. Once she caught my eye she said, “Just so you
know, when I got here, I made a much worse scene than you did, there’s nothing
to be embarrassed about, nothing”. Well
I wasn’t embarrassed Jumpy, not until you reminded me to be. Least you out did me, I will hang onto that I
thought. Does that mean you kicked the
door in an attempt to free it of its locks too?
I didn’t ask. I mumbled, “Thanks”
and put my head back down with tears of embarrassment in my eyes. God help me I want to go home I thought to
myself. I can’t be here. I don’t belong here. I am not sick. Am I?
As I sat there watching people out of the corner of my eye I
was able to quickly nickname them all. Is
that rude? Call me rude then because I
needed to do something to pass the time during meals and this was my way of
coping I guess. I made up little stories
in my head about the folks. We had a
lady who looked like she’d been homeless but was well on her way to health save
for the entire row of missing teeth up top.
I called her Gappy (I know I know).
Then there was Grampy. An old
fella, who probably had dementia of some kind.
Lovely old man, struggling to open and lift things. Jumpy, Twitchy and Gappy all seemed to have a
soft spot for him. They assisted him a great
deal during meals.
During my first meal Gappy introduced herself and gave me
the breakfast low down. There were rules
people, rules. She had gone searching for
spare food on the mobile cupboard asking all if they’d seen the extra
coffee. Apparently the kitchen sent in a
tray of extras but if you don’t claim it quick enough others will eat it. And one kid had a problem with stealing food
so you always had to make meal time ON time or else you risked losing your food
to him. And finally, “Should I not like
anything, I should leave it in the center of the table for others to have”, she
said. I mean there was no sense in
wasting good food or drink, especially coffee which she “loved the most”. I got all that WITHOUT making eye contact,
imagine had I made eye contact? She
might have moved into my room!
Now that we have the meal rules down pat I can get back to
my characters.
There was Shuffles.
This kid was 6 feet tall, maybe 130 pounds. If he was 20, I’d be surprised. Rail thin.
Long stringy greasy hair. Black homemade
tank top (sleeves ripped off t-shirt), black jeans, and shower caps on each
foot (yes, shower caps). His pants were
rolled over at the waist. I assumed the
belt was taken. Why he had no shoes I
have no idea. He was a little stinky. His room was next to mine so I kept my door
closed all the time. He really was quite
potent. I can only assume he was
schizophrenic because he didn’t speak.
He looked at you as if you maybe weren’t there. He was the food stealer. He’d walk in circles around the table and
kitchen area and just slip a hand down and grab food right off your tray if
your head was turned. Personally if that
happened I am pretty sure I’d have given him my tray. He wasn’t the cleanest soul therefore
touching ma’ stuff would no longer make it ma’ stuff, “It’s yours, here ya’
go”. I was kind of surprised that my
room was right next to Shuffle’s on one side of me and Gramp’s on the
other. There was no, “girls space”, “boys
space”. Besides the shared rooms where
the sexes were kept apart, it was a free for all.
And free for all I think it was. Jumpy was very touchy feely with another
inmate I called Cusack. He kind of
reminded me of a young John Cusack in The Sure Thing. Save for the cutting scars running up and down
his arms. Broke my heart. He too was only in his 20s, early 20s. I
wondered quietly if Cusack and Jumpy were an item. There was a whole lot of hands brushing each
other’s backs and backs of chairs etc. Even
though Jumpy was on her second marriage and had two kids I heard, me thinks
perhaps they were finding solace in each other’s personal space behind the
nurse’s back. I was told on arrival that
interpersonal relationships on the “ward” were strictly prohibited. Shuffles and I never even got our relationship
off the ground before the hierarchy quashed it*sigh*.
Then we had Dad. He
looked like every Dad you see, everywhere.
At breakfast he arrived in a t-shirt, pajama bottoms, Dad slippers, and
a tartan terrycloth robe. He looked like
the average Joe. Tanned, healthy,
announcing he had a really good Day Pass day.
He seemed to be in great spirits and ready to take on the world. Why was he there I wondered quietly to myself? He looked like he had it all together,
whatever “all” is. Do you know what “all together” looks
like? Describe.
And finally, Baller.
He was a late 20s heavy set kid who walked from one end of the ward to
the other, non-stop. He wore his shorts al
a Justin Bieber (too low on his hips), high tops undone, and sleeveless
basketball shirts. He never sat down for
longer than scarfing down a meal. He
would often come into the TV room (yes I ventured out of my room later in the
week), and he would only sit for a count of three (I counted). Then he would continue on his walk to nowhere
much like Shuffles. He would rotate from
having his sunglasses on his forehead to having them on his actual eyes. Those fluorescent lights are blinding I tell
ya’. At one point Dan came to visit and
as the Ward doors closed automatically behind him, Baller jumped out the small
gap in the doorway sideways. To escape I
guess? The nurses were all over it and
quick to grab him. He immediately burst
out with, “The voices made me do it”. I
wondered about all the walking. I guess
it was like his brain wouldn’t stop talking so he was trying to walk the voices
away. I can’t even imagine.
That was the bulk of those in the ward (the “loonie bin” as
you know I like to refer to it as) with me.
The “inmates” as I like to refer to them. I only HAD to stay for 72 hours as mandated
by law but most of us had ultimatums from our families, friends, or even
doctors like I did. I think some of them
choose to stay to get healthy, get sober.
As I mentioned, my doctor ordered 5 days after my arrival Friday so that
I would be there Monday through Wednesday and get both individual and group
therapy each day. I know for me, the
doctor needed to assure that my medications were balanced again and my mood
stabilized. For some of the others I
think they needed to get over the hurdle of addiction, in many cases, pain
medication! Surprise, surprise.
I kept to myself Saturday and most of Sunday. Venturing out only to eat really. As I mentioned Dan thankfully brought me all
my “stuff” Saturday morning. My pillow,
blankie (yes that’s right, I have one), shower supplies and loads of water,
bottled water. I hid all my water in my
room and filled up hospital travel mugs they provided so as to not look
snobby. Remember I was avoiding being
shivved at all costs. I wanted to appear
as though I was one of the “peeps”, just one of the “homies”, no stand out
behaviour here except the attempted breakout on arrival. I was happy to hear that was common
place.
Saturday and Sunday were hard days. My psychiatrist was not on all weekend
obviously so there no therapy. Funnily
enough he did come in and check on me. I
was surprised at that, on a weekend no less.
That’s a pretty dedicated guy to visit a bunch of loons such as us on
his free time. Either he’s dedicated or
has no life. I am opting for
dedicated. Because it was the weekend
there was no group therapy either. There
was in short, nothing to do. I was a little bitter about having to be there
when there was no benefit to me therapeutically but I supposed I kind of needed
to be somewhere safe didn’t I? Breakfast
was at 830am and lights out was 10pm.
Basically you spent 13 ½ hours confined to a space no larger than a
banquet hall with the same people. Thankfully
I was exhausted so I slept on and off for the entire two days. I was typically called to meals because I
would have fallen asleep. My body was
working so hard to expel all the drugs I had taken it was physically exhausted
and mentally, I was wiped. It was all so
surreal being there, what happened. One
minute I was down and the next I was in the hospital. It was all so fast.
I had decided in the ICU that all the prescription drugs I had
legitimately been prescribed were done.
I was going to sober up. Not that
I was ever technically stoned or high but I was taking way too many drugs, even
if prescribed by my physicians. There
was Percocets for chronic back pain, Valium when I couldn’t sleep or calm down,
muscle relaxants at night to help my back relax for sleep. All of them needed to stop and stop I decided
to do while in the hospital. I could
have easily asked for renewal on the prescriptions but when asked what I
wanted, I said no thanks. No more. I was taking back my life. I wasn’t going to be a slave to them anymore
and I was scared to be honest. Having
the filled prescriptions at home gave me an ability to hurt myself, an ability
I wouldn’t have otherwise had. I didn’t
want that risk available to me anymore.
I had quite a few visitors all weekend. That did help kill the time. I guess because of what happened people
needed to ensure themselves I was in fact, alright. Still me.
My husband visited quite a few times, my best friend Brenda, my brother,
and my parents, (my Dad and Step Mom). I
didn’t really want visitors, I can’t lie.
I was quite grumpy about being stuffed into the joint, but I knew what I
had put them through, they deserved to see I was recovering well. I also knew I needed to be there to have my
meds re-balanced. Didn’t make me any
less grumpy. That would be using common
sense. I refuse to act accordingly
often. Just because I know something is
right doesn’t mean I have to agree does it?
I hope I haven’t offended anyone with my nicknames and “Loonie
Bin” talk. It’s my way of making a dark
situation lighter. It’s how I survive
sometimes with darkness. I joke. I jest.
I make light of a bad situation.
I also would never describe these people full on, or use their actual names. I wouldn't dare. While it may not seem like it, I respect(ed) each and every person in the MHU for their personal
journey, their personal battle. For each
of us have our own to deal with. All I
know is as I played the card game Crazy Eights with Jumpy and announced to all
the irony of playing that particular game where we were, I got a hell of a lot
of laughs. I hope you can find humour in
the darkness along with me.
For the record, I shall be known as Grumpy, Bitchy, or Loud Mouth from now until forever.
For the record, I shall be known as Grumpy, Bitchy, or Loud Mouth from now until forever.
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