I don’t remember much about my four-day stay in the Inpatient Behavioral Health Unit at the hospital, but I do have some “pictures” in my head to help me recall pieces of it. Still, lots of it is just a blur.
It was Sunday, maybe mid-morning. I had packed a bag with some of my things, per Dr. Larson’s suggestion. I had also Googled what to pack to take to the psych ward, so that I knew to label everything with my name. I had some comfy clothes, my slippers, a toothbrush and paste. I had a small pouch with my name written in Sharpie, and my favorite lip balm, some lotion and cuticle cream. I remember that I was always putting on hand lotion and nail cream and lip stuff – my skin was so dry. Looking back, I wonder if it was a side effect of the medication withdrawal.
I was a little nervous as my husband and I drove to the hospital. I recall asking myself over and over if I was doing the right thing, but I honestly couldn’t come up with an alternative. Staying at home, moving from the bed to the couch, in tears and fear and feeling completely out-of-body was too hard to do anymore. I don’t remember talking much on the way. I don’t remember what we had told the kids. I just kept wishing we would get there so I could get started on healing. My reasoning was that if I was with my doctor, he could move my medicine changes along more quickly than what he had us doing at home.
I had to enter from the emergency room, so we parked and walked in together. I told the woman at the front desk that I wanted to be admitted to the psych ward. My husband and I took seats in the waiting area – he held my hand; I might have been shaking. It wasn’t long before I was called back to the triage nurse for assessment – I told her that I wanted to go to the psych floor because I was afraid for myself, and my doctor was there and I needed his help. I said goodbye to my husband, someone took my bag, and I was wheeled through indistinct hallways and an elevator to the 6th floor.
In my room, a nurse told me to put all of my clothes in a bag she gave me. She had two hospital gowns I could wear so that nothing showed out the back, plus a lightweight robe. I was told that I couldn’t have my things until the doctor had seen and approved them, which might not be until the next day. I remember thinking how much warmer my own clothes would have been, even with the hospital robe on top of the gowns.
I don’t really remember much else about that day. I do know I took a nap – I was cold and so tired. And my hubby came to see me for visiting hours that evening.