(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. Even today, most of it is just a fuzzy memory.)
I checked into the hospital on Sunday. The rest of the four days are blurry: I slept a lot.
I had to go to “Group” – twice, I think. The first time, Group was me and a young man, meeting at a low round table with a nurse who read through some pages and a booklet. All I heard was Charlie Brown’s teacher: “Waa waaa wa waaa.” The second time I went to Group, it was just me and the nurse, hardly a “group.” When she asked if I understood, I said, “Yes” so that she would let me leave and go back to bed. It was weeks after getting out of the hospital that I reread all of the materials I was given from my stay. As I was reading, I had a vague recollection of sitting at the table with her. Blurry memory, though.
I recall being awakened once by a nurse who seemed irritated that I was sleeping; she told me I had to get up and go to Recreational Therapy. As I stepped out into the hall, I was completely surprised to see Karen walking by – she was the Rec therapist! I greeted her like the old friend she was, and wondered if it shocked her to see me in the psych ward. We had become friends through our daughters and story time at the library 13 years before! I hadn’t seen her in a very long time – probably 4 years before this. It ended up being ok that I had to go to Rec Therapy, because Karen and I got to talk, filling each other in on our daughters’ lives. The young guy was there, too. I made a small stuffed fleece pillow – the tie kind (I gave it to my dog when I got home). Karen sought me out later in the day and gave me my lip balm (it had my name on it) – she had found my little pouch.
I remember a couple of meal times – my goodness, it was an odd bunch in the Commons. I didn’t see the young man, but I remember an older woman, an older man, a middle-aged lady, maybe another man, perhaps a total of six of us. I think we sat with two or three of us per round table, but I also remember being alone. Or maybe that’s just how we all felt – alone in the group. The TV was on, but no one was really watching – not even the nurses – I think they had their own TV. There was someone yelling, then screaming – down the hall. People rushed in his direction. Maybe it was the young man.
One time that I was out of my room and in the Commons, I tried to do some coloring. I think I worked on a puzzle too, but it was too hard to concentrate, and I couldn’t see well enough for the detail in the pieces. The young man was there, with people who I’m assuming were his parents, and he was crying hard. The man with him looked angry. The boy ended up yelling at them.
Sunny with a Chance of Clouds 