In this post, I am referring to inpatient hospitalizations #1 and #2. These occurred in the mid-70's on a one-size fits all locked unit.
I have to admit I was very naive when I shared a poem with my psychiatrist during an appointment that I had written titled "The Death Wish". Then I announced that I while I really appreciated all his efforts to help me I was very sorry to tell him that I was going to kill myself. But I thanked him very much for all he had done for me. I hoped he wouldn't be too upset.
He asked if I wanted to go in the hospital. I thought he was out of his mind! Hospital! Why would I go in the hospital? I wasn't sick or injured--yet. And if I wanted to die, going to a hospital was counter-productive! He explained what he meant. Oh crap. I thought that stuff was only in the movies, tvs, or books.
So there I was...18 years old and locked up with other mentals, alcoholics, junkies, and a teenager who had murdered his stepfather after he escaped from the closet he had been locked in for all of his life. He took a shotgun and killed him. He really was a nice kid and kind of like Rip Van Winkle...didn't know how to even work a soda machine! Or even what a bed was. Sad. He did learn quickly though.
The first hospitalization was 6 weeks long. The second one was 8 weeks. By the time the second one was finished, I had been enculturated into the subculture of psych patients. We have our own rules and codes of ethics.
A patient was brought in one night to sleep over. He was being transported to the state hospital but he didn't know that. One of the junkies found out by overhearing at the nurses station. I was there when he told the guy who was going to the Big Place for a long long time. He looked at us and said "Thank you, man. I'll never forget this." He escaped that night. We were all rounded up for questioning by the head nurse the next morning but we just stared at her like she was crazy. She finally stomped off saying, "I KNOW you guys had something to do with this!!" We laughed about that for a long time afterwards.
The unit had a Halloween party. One real suicidal mental lady was in the nurses station in the kitchen area preparing punch or something. I was sent in to assist. I thought that was crazy...both of us suicidal and putting both of us around knives and the medication supplies. But yet...I liked her and I wasn't about to let her do anything to endanger herself and vice versa. It was like...I don't care what you think, you are a wonderful person and don't you dare hurt yourself! But me--I am the one to die. Oh no, you don't!
We look out for each other.
Next blog will be about my Great Escape and the orderly who came after me. Now that is a telling story!
No comments:
Post a Comment