Behavioral health hospital: day two

I knew it was early when I woke up. My roommate was still sleeping and everything was quiet. Someone walked through the door just then, without even a knock. They needed my blood and it was 4:30 am. After they took my blood I asked if I could have some soap and towels to take a shower. Protocol says no showers before 6 am. As soon as that nurse left another came in to take my vitals. At 5:00 am. Checking the schedule they gave me, breakfast would be at 7. I walked politely up to the counter and asked again about showering. This time they let me. I was given a bucket with one towel, one wash cloth, toothbrush and paste, a small bottle of hair face and body soap, and a small
bottle of conditioner. Taking this into my room I realized for the first time that there was no door to the bathroom, just a shower curtain. And the actual shower curtain in the bathroom was somehow slightly less than that. It was disconnected from it’s Velcro strips that were holding it up. I took the quickest, most basic shower of my life and brushed my teeth. After showering you are to bring all of your toiletries, wet towels, and bin to the front desk.

It was then I realized that I hadn’t eaten yesterday at all. They had me there since 3pm and now fifteen hours later I hadn’t been offered even a drink of water. I found a coffee and water machine and decided to try the decaf while waiting to go to breakfast. At this point several other patients were starting to gather around a large table. Some were outside having a closely monitored, two limit smoking break. I heard patients talking about that days tech on our unit. He was a former corrections officer and they were saying he treats us just like criminals.

The cafeteria is just down the hall, but in order to get there you must be locked down in different hallways twice. The food was edible and they always have a few choices. It was nothing to write home about but not the worst part of my experience. Still in the dining hall there was no real coffee and no knives. A nice lady told me to take a spoon, that it worked pretty well for cutting food.

When we arrived back to our unit, the line for meds was so long. As soon as I got to the front of the line they told me I’d be getting 50mg of vistiril twice a day for anxiety, what even is that but fine. I also had two doses of ibuprofen 800mg daily for the pain of my self harm, and a prescription for an antibiotic twice a day. No Wellbutrin. I took whatever they gave me and decided I would just have to wait until I talked with the doctor to get everything worked out. They would also have to redress my wounds twice a day. Over the 6 days I was there they changed my dressing twice.

Did I mention I’m still breastfeeding? By 8am I was in terrible pain from being engorged. I asked for a breast pump and was told “this is not a hospital, we don’t provide that type of equipment.” And to “self express your milk into the sink.” I told them to fuck off and called my sister. She called my senator to report discriminations occurring in real time at a local not hospital. Within an hour they ran to Walmart and bought me a hand pump, milk bags, lanolin and Medela breast pump wipes. Thank you sister, for being my advocate when I’m to weak to be.

First was goals group where you wrote down your goals for the day and what you might need to help you obtain those goals. Next was coping skills group, then a fun round of Jeopardy group. Lunch, another serious group, a fun group, a trip to the gym to play with the three balls and one net available, dinner, a wrap up goals group and night meds.

At some point during one of the groups, a doctor pulled me out for 10 minutes to ask me a bunch of questions. He seemed in a rush, but I made sure to express my issues with meds. He added two more and told me I just needed more sleep probably.

After that we were allowed to watch pg tv (mostly the news, football, or country music stations). Some patients would sit around a big table coloring and used it as a time to vent and talk about what landed them in this prison.

Then it was off to bed in a cold room on a plastic mattress with a plastic pillow and the bathroom light on.

More to come


13 thoughts on “Behavioral health hospital: day two”

  1. I will never understand what make millions to become “mental health patients” no even how I got the fancy label myself. But yes, even so doctors and nurses and the staff are polite, smart and caring, the installations are nice and the food is aceptable, it truly feel like you are in jail. It feels like you have lost all your rights. No one in my family belived in me and I was literally forced to enter those mental health facilities. Maybe I talk too much, maybe I am to indepedent, maybe I am that never fighter for life and someone truly do not like that. Someone needed my silence and my submission. We are an experiment. Drugs are tested in us. All our vitals and blood samples are recorded and someone is watching at the results. I remember those few moments, me at the waiting room of the hospital, a long wait, I walked to the threshold, but they did not want me there, they wanted me on my room. I wanted to leave the hospital. So, they called security and they made me go inside the room, closed the door, I was there, for first time, with this feeling of being nothing, just a soul to their disposal. No one is saving me from all of these, I have to just accept it and do whatever they say if I want to go out again. Years have gone by, and I have been in this never ending cycle that became my life. The damage some did to me for real, is sealed in some secret book or behind some doors, I am that, the mental health patient, one more for the list. Do you know what happen with me? I do not accept that new reality. I want to be one in the other side of the experiment, the one collectiing information and moving the pieces. I do not want to be a number. I will probably cry, I will probably suffer a lot now without my doctos and medication, hidding from the world that hurt me a lot for real, but if this is the end of my life, I am ready to accept it, after all, whoever hurt me, destroyed all the best parts of me. Nothing was left intact in me. I am telling this, with the maximun serenity, I am stable, I am empty, my brain is a lost space without information, I am sitting in my quiet space, looking sometimes out the window and looking at the blue skies and the naked trees. From time to time a voice inside the house come close to me again and complain or tell me another hurtful word. But I do not listen. The noise is out there and will no let that noise reach me again I am alone, totally alone and I most probably die one day like this, a life wasted.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. the worse of it is- not only will people treat people like animals, wait until you take into account the supernatural forces that treat people like animals. Those are the worst circumstances imaginable. There is no way out. And they are going to do what they are going to do,

      Liked by 2 people

  2. Why your site is DOPE: because it is intimate and real, and you write candidly about what your BH experiences. A sincere thank you for being genuine.

    Here is something genuine from my personal experience. To the patient it comes as a shock- the realization that such treatment, experimentation, circumstance they find themselves in, is real and actually happening. However, this is because they are NEW, and FRESH, and lack the experience of being exposed,processed, and treated. Atrocious conditions, experimentation on patients, surgery, implants, dna modification, torture, has been happening for ages. IT sure the hell dont feel like it though when first confronted with it.

    The best group of people to conduct experiments on are those who have ZERO credibility, who no matter what HAVE NO VOICE EVEN WHEN THEY SPEAK because of the fact they are a patient or have been, this will always OVERSHADOW THEIR VOICES AND CREDIBILITY and they will be dismissed. Therefore, they are a target audience/group, not necessarily a specific individual- but any individual who is processed at a TARGETED SITE WHO CONDUCTS SUCH AFFAIRS.

    what i wrote above is random and unrelated to your post.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Both of these posts are very articulate accounts of your experience. I like reading eyewitness first-person accounts like this. This is the best writing I’ve seen in a month because it’s Real. It’s also very brave of you to post about this experience. Thanks for writing.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Having read about your first two days I feel so bad that my response to your asking for personal accounts (when you were thinking about going in to the BHH) was quite so ‘positive’. I had no idea what it would be like for you, and that you are breastfeeding. My experience is with the NHS so things like insurance never crossed my mind. Also having your stuff taken away because you had self-harmed. When self-harming and suicidal I was on one-to-one obs and just had to keep the door unlocked if I was taking a bath and the nurse stood outside and called out to check on me every so often. There was also a mother and baby unit there that had its own day-room, kitchen, etc. Of course it’s not all rosy and shit does go on but it doesn’t sound as if you were unreasonable at any point, and yet you were made to ‘suffer’ because you were unwell. No-one in their right mind walks blithely into any sort of psychiatric treatment unit, and no-one deserves to be viewed negatively.
    To be treated as less than a viable human when you were so vulnerable was tantamount to abuse through trauma. I so hope you got your meds sorted and are settling back at home now.

    Liked by 3 people

  5. Oh my! I sincerely thought they would care. No matter the situation, I feel you should be treated so much better than what happened. I’ll pray for better days for you. And I hope you are not in any pain after being engorged. It can hurt so bad. Take care!

    Liked by 1 person

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