Entry
#8
~ The Weekend
Saturday
The
first day you come into the unit, you are given a booklet
they tell you not to read right away unless you want to,
but over and over, it is emphasized that you are in a
short-stay unit. At this point, it was Saturday. It's
hard to describe how I felt, but I woke up feeling agitated.
I had a hard time sitting still, my heart was beating
fast, I was breathing fast, my neck and shoulders felt
very tight, my stomach hurt, I paced the halls, and I
just was not coping well.
I
went to the first group of the day where we set some priorities
for what we would do that day. One aspect was positive
self-affirmations. We had covered that earlier in the
week, but we talked about it again. Depressed people often
have a difficult time finding the positive in themselves.
That's something I was learning about me. I could only
come up with a list of seven the previous day and one
of those wasn't the most positive comment I could make!
As
the morning progressed, I started to feel worse. I was
trying to focus, but I finally identified what I was feeling
as anxiety. Anxiety is the worst feeling in the world.
At times, I felt like I was back on that string spinning
by my head or getting sucked up a tunnel. I was light-headed
and just feeling panicked. I finally asked for help, literally.
I went to the nurse's desk and said, "Help, something
is wrong," and described my feelings.
I
was told that they would check with the psychiatrist covering
the unit that day. On Saturday, you only see a psychiatrist
if you have just come into the unit, are getting discharged,
or there is a major problem. I was not going to see anyone
other than the counselors that day since I did not fall
into any of those categories. After awhile, and it seemed
to take forever, I was told that nothing could be prescribed
for anxiety because I was nursing. I'd have to call my
ob/gyn and ask what they prescribe.
I
was so angry! I hadn't told many people where I was although
my ob/gyn practice happens to be one of the practices
covering on the other side of the hospital. I figured
it wouldn't be that hard for them to call if I gave permission,
or find out what the practice recommended for their breastfeeding
mothers. I knew I was paying big bucks for them to do
all that. Why should I have to call? Apparently, life
on the psych unit doesn't work that way.
So,
I got on the pay phone and called the answering service.
The doctor who called me back is the one who delivered
the baby last winter. I probably shouldn't have felt this
way, but it felt humiliating to say, "I'm on the psych
unit and I need something for anxiety. They told me I
have to call and find out what you recommend." She asked
me what the doctor on call was recommending, I asked,
and she said, "Then go with that." I said thanks and hung
up. The staff was there, so they heard what I was saying.
I
was so mad at that point! I had to wait for the meds to
come from the pharmacy and we had group/lunchtime coming
up. The nurse covering for the weekend was so darn strict.
You couldn't go into the kitchen to get water in the middle
of group. Everything got locked up because we were to
be at group. They even took the unit phone off the hook.
They had not done that during the week. The other patients
were upset along with me that I had to call out of the
unit to get my meds. I think they understood how I felt
being in the same situation, but at least, the ones who
needed it were getting something for their anxiety.
I
found out a little later that my ob/gyn called up to the
unit and spoke to the psychiatrist right after I got off
the phone with her. I wasn't given a regular prescription,
but I could have Ativan as needed. I guess it has something
to do with rules regarding privacy. At that point, I didn't
care. I just wanted to feel better.
I
was coping in my usual style by laughing and joking and
trying to just get through the day. I went to L who was
the med person for that day and asked if the pharmacy
had sent over my medication. She looked at me and said,
"You look like you are having a great time...smiling,
laughing, okay." To which I replied, "Well I'm not. It's
my mask."
"So, how do you feel?"
"Scared, my heart's beating fast, I feel like I'm in a
tunnel and I'm going to pass out...I'm pretty mad too."
"Why?"
"Because I had to call to find out what meds I could take.
I shouldn't have had to do that!"
Then, I started crying, which was a relief in one way
since I hadn't been able to cry much at all lately.
"Okay," and she handed over the pill.
I
don't think it was the crying that got me the pill; it
was the fact that I had articulated my needs clearly and
let someone see that I was truly not feeling okay. I'll
say this for Ativan. It works fast. The anxiety I had
been feeling all morning finally started to abate.
The
moment I had been waiting for came up at 2:00 pm—the
walk outside. It was almost cold enough to start snowing,
but I didn't care. Dh had brought me a sweatshirt which
I put on under my brown leather jacket, and even though
I had been perpetually cold, I was quite warm when we
went out. To get out, you have to go through the locked
doors you came in, and go downstairs on the elevator.
It
was scary! We walked around the hospital grounds which
aren't very busy on the weekends. At one point, we passed
a ditch of water and I had the most irrational urge to
jump in. That's a truly awful thought. I wouldn't have
drowned, but I would have gotten very wet and cold, been
in lots of trouble, and maybe ended up with a longer hospital
stay. This was one urge I wanted to suppress. Some of
the others were laughing and joking. I was holding on
and trying to breathe in the cold, fresh air.
When
our group of about seven got back up to the unit, we were
all rosy-cheeked and healthy-looking. A good thing since
some of the group that had come out were smokers. They
wanted to get back in time for their smoking break...so
much for healthy. :-) I expressed my feelings from the
walk to my contact person for the day. She seemed very
distracted, but she tried to reassure me that I would
be okay.
I
hung out with a couple of the other folks that afternoon
and evening. My thoughts kept going back to the mask collages
I labored over the previous night. I figured out that
they were probably the reason I was so anxious because
I had started to recognize a truth in myself and it made
me more uncomfortable than I have been for a long time.
That image of a woman with the gun to her head kept coming
back to me.
The
anxiety came back to visit again in the evening. The difference
this time was that I felt really out of it, but it was
better than feeling like passing out. I sat and watched
some TV with a couple of the other people there that evening.
I headed off to bed around 10 and took my sleeping pill
first. I almost did not make it back down the hall. I've
never been drunk, but I had to hold on to the wall because
I couldn't walk a straight line without help at that point!
Sunday
For
the first time in what seemed like forever, I slept all
night. I didn't wake up at 3:00 am like I had been. I
didn't watch the sun come up and I felt rested. No anxiety
either. That was great!
One
of the things I identified myself as needing were some
tips for how to deal with anxiety. As one of the other
patients pointed out, Ativan which is a benzodiazapine
medication, can be addicting. I didn't want that problem
down the road, so non-medication tips are a wonderful
thing to consider. That was what we ended up focusing
on in the morning.
Most
of the guys there were focusing on watching the football
game on TV in the afternoon. We live fairly close to one
of the NFL major-league teams, so I suppose it's a natural
thing. One of the afternoon treatment groups didn't take
place, but we did get to go out for one of them to the
hospital gym. One of the gals and I wanted to go and put
on some dance music. We couldn't get the stereo going,
so we ended up on the equipment. I walked on a treadmill
for 18 minutes. It was wonderful even if I was sore later
because I got out of my head when I did that. Exercise
is a good thing when you are depressed.
That
evening, we had relaxation. I was starting to focus on
my next day which I was hoping would mean discharge from
the hospital. I welcomed feeling safe and being away from
home so I could focus on getting better, but I was feeling
hemmed in by the walls. There aren't that many places
to go on a locked ward. At that session, I asked what
would happen if I got really mad the next day because
I couldn't go home. I said, "What happens if I slam the
door really hard, but just once?" I was half-joking/half-serious
when I asked. One of the other patients on the unit had
ended up in the quiet room a few times because of the
door-slamming and loss of control.
Bless
J's heart. He told me to come and find him the next day
if I really felt the need and he'd do it with me so I
wouldn't get in trouble. He also urged me not to think
so negatively, to keep my positive focus. It was what
I needed to hear and it helped. At relaxation, I almost
fell asleep, but I had to go and clean up from the craft
I was making earlier.
I
went to bed early again, but I was anticipating another
good night of sleep. Would I be discharged on Monday?
That was the million-dollar question I fell asleep with.
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