I went inpatient for the first time

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I went inpatient for the first time Empty I went inpatient for the first time

Post by Samzi on Sat Feb 16, 2013 8:46 am

I was have not been taking care of me for a while. The signs were there but I was trying to push them away, trying to pretend they were not there and I could do it on my own. My moods had been shifting quickly. I was manic, depressed, and angry all within 8 hours. I was missing work because I couldn't leave the house because of anxiety and depression, I was binging and I was picking fights a lot with Joe. I hid a lot from him, he thought I was just over stressed and sick from the flu (not a lie, I had the flu for three weeks)

Sunday night we were fighting and after he went to bed I cut a little. Nothing bad, but I woke him up to tell him. He sat with me for hours while I cried, he called me out of work in the morning and I promised I'd be okay until he got home from work to talk about it and figure out what to do.

Monday morning I binged and started drinking. Around noon I went and cut my arm up pretty bad, my jeans were covered in blood as was the floor. I did the only thing I knew to do, I told Joe I'd cut and that he had to come home. I continued drinking and cutting, not caring if I died. When he came home he was crying and broke open the bathroom door to see the mess. He wrapped it up but I was lightheaded and drunk so he took me to a clinic which called the ambulance.

I sat in the emergency room in a wheelchair with just a gown on for 4 hours before being talked to by anyone. They never looked at my arm. The DR gave me something for my migraine and told me the psych dr would be down in 3 hours to see me. A nice nurse brought food to me and Joe and made sure we got a gurney (it was in the hall, but step up from wheelchair)

The psych eval woman was condescending. In fact she told me I shouldn't even be thinking of getting married and when I told her I was Catholic she shook her head and said "too bad". I answered her honestly, that I didn't want to die, that I was looking into therapy, that Joe was supportive in every way possible. She talked to him and actually told him that I had lied to her (he have the same answers I did to every question from have I done it before to how did we meet) and said I was going in no matter what.

I signed myself in voluntarily as it was terrifying. Joe sat with me as long as they let him. at 1am they took me to the unit where I had to get naked and give a history. Then they gave me food and something to sleep. The next day I slept a lot, got up and tried to eat and called Joe a lot.

When he came to visit I had a breakdown. I couldn't let go of him when visiting was up and I saw it was breaking his heart. We both cried and I screamed for the dr and he was panicking trying to ask the nurses for anxiety meds for me. Finally I let go and ran to my room in a fit. The nurse told me I'd never get out with such childish behavior and gave me some anxiety medications. The next day I started my meds and wandered around like a zombie, but I was trying to attend groups. When he came to visit I was calm and actually the social worker told us as long and I was okay the next 12 hours I was going home the following 12 hours.

The next morning I worked with my social worker on a follow up plan (never saw my dr after the first day) and attended a few more groups with both excitement and fear.

I've been home for 24 hours, and alone for some of it. I've had anxiety and panic. I've thought about hurting but I tried all the coping skills they showed me on the unit. I even man aged to go to work and talk to my boss about what happened and he said it was fine as long as I got better and gave me 4 extra days off.

My night meds make me really out of it and sleepy so I'll have to take them around dinner to get up for work. I'm still really anxious (she wouldn't give me anxiety medication to take home) and my day medicine makes me a bit confused and gives me headaches.

I was angry at first because Joe was the cause of me going in. Looking back, he did the right thing. He didn't know how bad I was or what I was capable of. I got the help I needed so desperately. I got time to sleep, to reflect, to come up with a plan and to get medicines. I may be a mess right now, but I'm getting better. I want tog get better, and I'm going to take better care of me.

Posts : 632
Join date : 2012-02-23

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