Finally, the processing was finished and I found myself in a wheelchair being pushed through the maze of a hospital. It just seemed to go on and on until we came to a door with a glass window.
As we waited for someone to unlock the door and let us in I wondered what was I going into. I really didn’t want to be here. I did not was to be in a physco ward. I didn’t want to be around these people but I really didn’t want to be around anything. I did not want to exist.
We entered through the doorway. There were two people pacing the hallway. They smiled and said hello. The nursing staff greeted me very nicely and checked my name tag on my wrist. I just wanted to get up and run but there was no way I’d get out through that door now. My husband and daughter kissed me and told me good bye. I cried as I watched them leave. What was I doing here? I did not belong. At least that is what I thought.
I was taken into a small office and again I was questioned, “How was I feeling?” Why was I there?” I was so tired of being pestered although, each person that had processed me through was very kind.
By then it was bedtime. They took me to my room. Checked my clothes, took my shoe strings and gave me my gowns to wear. I later learned that they expect you to get up in the morning, make your bed, clean yourself up and get dressed (street clothes) which was much more comfortable. That is part of your good progress that they watch.
I was so mentally and physically drained from the day I had no problem sleeping through the night. In the morning I awoke to voices echoing through the hallway. I peeked down the hallway and saw the food cart which I knew it meant breakfast time. I did not want to go down that hall but I knew I had to.
As they saw me coming one of the staff approached me, wished me a good morning and found my breakfast tray. I now had to go into what they called the day room. The day room had tables, chairs along with a couch, and a television. I walked in, found a seat at a table and sat down.
Everyone was very friendly and started introducing themselves. It really helped me relax and feel more comfortable. It turned out that breakfast was not going to be as terrible as I had expected. I had expected to walk in, sit down and put up with stares of over drugged people.
Shortly after breakfast they start a group therapy session. The group therapy sessions were four times a day about an hour each. You were very much expected to participate in the group sessions and I have to say they were very helpful.
During these group session you learn to understand your disease. Your chemical imbalance you’ve heard about forever. You learn that you are not the only one going through this and by discussing and sharing with others you actually help each and understand yourself better. You learn that the people in this ward are not a lot of loonies and that you do fit in.
I was in for a week. The beginning of the week I started to feel safe and relieved from reality. I was in no hurry to get out of there. Each day I saw the psychiatrist who I liked very much. She seemed to really know her stuff and I felt very comfortable with her.
The biggest reason for this stay in the hospital other than keeping you from harming yourself is to medicate and monitor your progress. My second day I awoke to feeling like my body was lead. The first medication was a little much. I remember my turn with the doctor. I asked her to please not give me that med anymore because I felt like a zombie. By the next day we had tried something different which helped me very much.
By the end of the week I had felt better and had a much better outlook on life. I wanted to live for a change. I wanted to go home.
Throughout the week I was very fortunate. My daughter and husband visited faithfully which meant the world to me. There were people in there that never had visitors. I felt so bad for them. They were very nice people but they really had to feel alone.
Now I am on the road to recovery and feeling mentally better than I can ever remember. I know many of you had read my first story and I appreciate your support and comments. Some say I really didn’t want to kill myself, I just wanted help. I look back now and that may be very true but at that time I had no idea what I wanted. I just knew I did not want to feel or exist. That is an awful feeling and I’d never wish that on anyone. I do take my medications faithfully and will continue to do so.
I just want anyone out there that has felt this way or is to please realize there is help and support. You won’t want it and you won’t feel like calling anyone. Everyone asked me, “Why didn’t you call.” You just don’t feel like doing anything productive.
I will never forget what I wrongfully called the phsyco ward. It was a great place to be for what I needed. I thank God I went there and I want anyone to know, if you are ever feeling this way, do what you have to do. It’s scary and takes all the strength you have but it could be the best chance you take in your life.