I was in a mental hospital twice last year for Bipolar related psychosis. Want to know what it was like and how I got there? Not all hospitals are the same but this was how my experience went as I remember it. The first time I went in was after a visit to the ER for pyschotic symptoms. I was delusional, thinking I was God-like and could control the TV, etc. They had the police transport me to the hospital. They were going to cuff me but my mom begged them not to and told them I wasn't violent. Travis was even allowed to ride in the police car with me. This was a good thing for everybody because at the time I was clinging to my family and was struggling with my identity. I didn't know who I was anymore. I remember asking Travis who I was and how I was supposed to act. He told me I am Staci and was there to get help. We pulled up and went in where a man asked me a bunch of questions and had me sign a paper. Then I was taken to a room where there was another girl sleeping who was snoring loud and yelling out in her sleep. It scared me so they allowed me to sleep in a room by myself the first night. I was going in and out of psychosis which I believe was caused by lack of sleep. So I slept and slept and slept.
The first day they left me alone to sleep most of the time. Nurses would come in and check vital signs and ask how I was doing. They say they take it easy on you the first day. The second day I was woken up for breakfast. I remember just sitting there staring at the food. I was freaked out by all the other people there who were also exhibiting bizarre behavior. One man was angry and violent and they kept him in his room all the time with a nurse at the door at all times. One of the other patients helped me by encouraging me to take a bite of food. I had lost a lot of weight as food was not important to me at the time. But I do like bacon, so I tried it. That particular patient was a care-taker. He took it upon himself to care for newbies like me. After breakfast I went back to bed and avoided socializing with other patients. Then a nurse came in and said it was time for group. We had a group session where we did a bit of stretching then we were asked to go one by one and rate our mood and tell what our goal was for the day. I put on my acting hat because all I wanted to do was go home. I said I was an 8 and my goal was to go home that day. And I did. I hid my symptoms very well at the onset of psychosis so the Psych Dr just put that I was depressed and sent me home.
The very next day we were back at the ER. I was doing things like talking to people who weren't there, had beliefs that I was going to die and that my daughter was going to die and that my Dad was going to die. Travis says I was gone. The real me just wasn't home. I can remember his anguish and frustration. Poor guy. I kept trying to take my clothes off and run outside. I thought if I could get outside then God could take me in place of my handicapped daughter. I did not want her to die. These were of course just symptoms of mania/psychosis and I was put right back in the hospital. They had to trick me this time though. I was taken by ambulance from the ER in my hospital gown and wrapped in a blanket. I am usually very modest but when I realized I was going back I became frantic. My back end was hanging out for all to see and I didn't even care. I was just crying and crying. The nurses kept asking if I remembered them but I only remembered two people and they were the only one's I would talk to. They made me take off my gown in a secluded room and wrote down any scars or marks I had on my body. This was torturous for me as I was sexually abused and am very modest because of it. I was allowed to sleep for awhile but then they got me into the "schedule." Almost every hour was scheduled during the day. We had group in the morning which was just like last time. I tried pretending I was OK again but my actions in the evening showed I was not. Then we had a nutritionist come to speak with us. We had craft time, we had game time, and played Apples to Apples or the Wii. We had a meditation class, a positive affirmation class, and more. They didn't MAKE you go to groups but the people who did usually got out faster so I went to every group. I thought I would get out quickly. They didn't even make you take a shower. There were two girls who did nothing but sit in front of the TV. One of them never showered and stunk pretty bad. The other seemed snotty. There were cliques just like high school. I wanted out.
We had med time where we all lined up for our meds. They would watch you take the meds and make you stick out your tongue after each swallow. Usually your assigned nurse kept track of when you needed meds and would come get you if you weren't in line. We were checked on every 15 minutes, even through our sleep.
My mom and Travis would call me quite often. There was a 10 minute time limit on phone calls and two phones. This time was so hard on Travis. He faithfully visited me during the week for our hour each night. There was NO weekend visitation. That was hard. Travis actually became suicidal during this time because I would beg him to take me home and he couldn't. He tried once but they said the 72 hour hold didn't include weekends.This meant the court granted the Dr permission to keep me in spite of mine and Travis's wishes. I wasn't even suicidal. But I was delusional.
It turned into a 9 day ordeal. I became very paranoid. I did things like accuse Travis of cheating on me and accused my mom of wanting to keep me in there forever. I even ran into one of the other patients room and woke her up in the middle of the night because I thought she was dying. (She was a very old lady and I was worried about her.) That little stunt got me pulled into the main room by dragging me on the floor and holding me down to give me a shot. I was left with a giant bruise on my arm from where security grabbed me. Then I was the one who had a nurse at my door. I was put on a different medication nearly every day. I guess they thought it wasn't working. I saw more than one Pysch Dr. so each one would put me on a different med. This frustrated my family.
We would meet with the Psych Dr every day and if he thought it was time to go home he would tell you right then. So waiting for that visit every day became very stressful. I wasn't able to fool anybody this time. Every day my goal was to go home. I gave my family hell for putting me in the system where I felt like a prisoner. Finally I decided that my goal should be to get better and take advantage of the help I was getting. That was instilled in me by another patient who also had been there a while and wanted to go home. The Dr could go to the court and get an order to keep us whether we wanted to go home or not. He had me on 72 hour holds several times.
The good things about the hospital were that somebody cleaned up after us and made our beds and cooked us food. On Fridays we had pizza and popcorn. I found my clique and had made friends. I was learning about myself and my illness.
I remember that one night I had went crazy over not having my wedding rings. I said to everyone "I bet you all think I'm crazy. Just crazy Staci." And one of the ladies looked at me and said "Well we're all in here with you!!" And that stopped me in my tracks. She became a close friend of mine inside. It's weird that I actually miss a lot of the people I was in there with. I wonder how they are doing now. One guy in there thought I was a girl he went to school with and he had a major crush on me. That was weird to deal with. When Travis came to pick me up the guy was upset. He did not want me to go home.
But, on day 9 I finally got to come home. I still wasn't all better but I was functioning. They set up appointments for me at a local mental health center for psychotherapy and to meet with a new Psych Dr. I have not missed an appointment in a year. I feel like I am finally on the right track now. My stay was scary but necessary. It made me realize I DO have a problem and need medicated. Feel free to ask me any questions about my stay that I did not address.
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