On the 6th Floor Behavioral Health Unit: Psych Ward, part 1

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.

13 thoughts on “On the 6th Floor Behavioral Health Unit: Psych Ward, part 1

    • gail burns November 20, 2015 / 5:00 pm

      you were brave. Not everyone has the choice to go to the hospital. But with a good support system and good friends, and D A things can get better.

      Liked by 1 person

      • peggyricewi November 20, 2015 / 5:25 pm

        And the unit at Mayo Franciscan Hospital was a great place for me to end up.
        I agree, good friends, support team, and D.A. were huge helps to me in healing from that depressive episode.
        Did you get to read the posts I wrote about D.A. Support Group?😉


  1. dawnlizjones November 16, 2015 / 7:25 pm

    That feeling of wanting to get well right now! I remember sharing with a friend that it takes time and not to be discouraged by the amount of time it takes. (Not to mention the effort!)

    Liked by 1 person

    • peggyricewi November 16, 2015 / 7:55 pm

      It does take time – way longer even after this hospital story. This situation took months of recovery. And each depressive episode takes time to heal from, also. But I’ve also learned to be patient with myself.

      Liked by 1 person

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