The trauma of 2017, Part 3b (The remainder of my lockdown)

Please bear with me, as I have a great deal to share with you.

Fast forward to day 3 in lockdown…

That morning, one of the staff told me that I needed to go to the nurse station for some reason or other. As I stood there waiting for someone to assist me, I noticed all of the patient’s charts, including my own on the shelf. Thank God, that was when my eyesight was better and before Presbyopia set in. Interesting Fact: Presbyopia, or age-related farsightedness, usually becomes noticeable in a person's early to mid 40s and continues to worsen until around age 65.

Prior to that day, my chart was labeled “3-day hold.” It now showed a “14-day hold.” Immediately, I became horrified of the thought of being in this facility a few more weeks. I talked to one of the staff and I was able to convince her to let me call my husband on the payphone. I told my husband what had happened, and he said that no one mentioned this to him. He was extremely upset. When my husband visited that evening, he had a very long and serious conversation with the head nurse, as well as the psychiatrist. Oddly enough, neither of them claimed they knew how or who changed my chart. I can understand them not telling me that they extended my hospital stay given my current state, but it was inexcusable that they didn’t discuss it with my husband, who was overseeing my care.

Over the next few days, I had a few scares, and I had experienced some very terrifying side effects from the numerous medications I was on.  

I don’t remember what happened in chronological order, but I do remember some very unpleasant memories, so here goes…

As you may recall in Part 2 of this series, I mentioned that they assessed me during my first night in lockdown, and that I peeked inside an inner room that had a hospital bed with restraints on the top and bottom of the bed. This room was in the middle of the long hallway and nestled among all of the patient rooms. I was in the recreational room (TV/meal room) and one of the female patients was extremely upset. I happened to be the closest one to her, so she shared her story with me. I don’t recall her name, but let’s call her Mary. Mary told me that she was having major episodes of anxiety and that she didn’t know how to handle it. She said that there were times that it would get so bad, that she felt like she was losing her mind. During one these times, she couldn’t help but scream and throw whatever was in her line of sight. Instead of talking her down from this episode, two hospital attendants grabbed her and placed her in “the bed with restraints.” Another nurse came by and stuck with her a shot of something to calm her down. Once they fully secured her in with the restraints, they left her for the next five-six hours. When she quieted down, she tried to call out as she needed to use the restroom, but needless to say, she ended up wetting herself, as no one came. This is one of the reasons that I was so horrified of that room. 

My exercise during this time consisted of walking up and down the long scary hallway. Other times, they would allow us to spend an hour in the small patio (A small outdoor space with benches and encased with wrought iron bars). Anyway, every time I would do my daily walks up and down the hallway, each time I passed that “scary room,” it would send shivers of terror throughout my mind and body. 

From time to time, I would have thoughts of me ending up in that room and never coming out. Even now, I can clearly see the hallway, the room, and that nasty bed.

As I mentioned in another blog, I struggled with being able to watch TV, write or even read simple scripture in my Bible, but it didn’t stop me from trying. I was trying to hold onto any resemblance of me, my beliefs, my life. I would try to read my Bible, both in bed and in the TV room. I remember one day as I was passing one of the nurses, and out of his mouth came a super snide comment, which was “Do you want to do a Bible study?” I still don’t really know what that was about, other than I could feel that they were making fun of me.  

I had an unsettling experience with a female patient. After one of our craft activities, I went and sat over by the TV area. There was a female patient that I hadn’t met before. It was a lonely place so I decided that I would befriend her. I said hello and asked her how she was doing. We started to get into a little bit of a back-and-forth conversation and then out of the blue she said, “You’re evil!” Of course I was taken back with this comment, so I said, “Excuse me, what did you say?” And again, she said “You’re evil!”  Immediately I got up and went to one of the nurses and told her exactly what this patient had said, and the nurse’s only comment was “What did you say to her before?” I told her that I was just having a cordial conversation, asking her about herself. Then the nurse just responded, “Then stay away from her.” She also made some comment about her being released in the morning. I understand that the hospital staff in that place have a lot to deal with and that it is a challenging place to work; however, it is also difficult for the patients, given what they are dealing with, not to mention how intimidating the environment is in that kind of place. It would have been helpful for the nurse to exude a bit more empathy towards me, even if she thought I was crazy.

There were daily conversations between my husband and the psychiatrist regarding my care and how I was progressing. Every day he kept changing my medications, but I didn’t seem to be getting better and, there were times when the side effects were unbearable. 

One of the worst, uncontrollable side effect took place one evening. They had just given me my nighttime meds when a good friend of mine called me on the payphone. A few minutes into our conversation, I started to feel an extreme tiredness come over me. I was restless and I could barely sit still. I started getting a burning sensation in my legs and then I felt like it was ripping through every part of my body. I couldn’t concentrate on what my friend was saying, nor could I muster the energy to speak. I got off the phone and headed to my room, as I felt overwhelmed with exhaustion. On the way to my room, I told one of the nurses what I was experiencing. She suggested that I lie down and see if it helped. I got to my room and laid down, but I couldn’t fall asleep, given the nasty side effects. The nurses kept checking on me during the night. I don’t know how much time passed, but it seemed like it was in the wee hours of the morning when the burning stopped, and I was able to get some rest.

The next day, I told my husband what had happened the night before and he was not happy with the entire “meds situation” and so he had another serious discussion with the doctor. During this talk, the doctor told my husband that if I sleep six hours that night, I can be discharged.  

Before my husband left the hospital at night, we prayed that God would give me sweet sleep and, as it turned out, I slept a little over six hours that night.

The next day my husband and I met with the psychiatrist, and he posed the question this way “Although I think you really need to be here, and that you need full-time care, since you got a decent night's sleep, I can release you. Again, I don’t agree with this, but it’s up to you. My husband turned to me and said “What do you want to do? Are you ready to go home? " And, although I was scared and uncertain about everything, I knew that I couldn’t stay there any longer and said “Yes, I want to go home!”

On the whole, I ended up being there five nights (six days) and during that time I had four or so different roommates and all with different issues.  One other thing worthy of mentioning is my perceived fear of never leaving the facility and how the conversations with the other patients exacerbated this issue. A male patient that I had talked to a few times seemed quite normal, had been there six months. Another lady, who had been there for a few months, told me that if you are there for a long time, that you have to present your case in front of a committee in order to leave the facility.

I'm sharing my full story here in hopes that you don't have to go through what I did. I believe that it is very important to recognize signs of extreme hormonal imbalances and treat it properly.