I was discharged a few hours ago. I was there for a week. It was... interesting. I will say that I am no longer suicidal, so that's good. I am on new meds sertraline, tegratol (carbamazepine I think), and vistaril. Still on the seroquel.
My anxiety was terrible while I was there. I told everyone that the hospital was making it worse. Realistically, I know I have been drinking to avoid my emotions. I have also eliminated all uncomfortable social situations to avoid the anxiety. In the hospital social interaction is unavoidable and they don't serve alcohol, so this could have happened if I got sober at home and decided to make new friends or something. My second day I went to education group and everyone was talking at once and it was loud and I was so anxious. At the end I went back to my room and started sobbing and hyperventilating, which I guess is an anxiety attack? I went to process group and left early and did it again. The therapist decided to switch me from the chemical dependency group to regular psych, which she said would be calmer.
Thursday I was upset after group and a patient decided to try to start a fight with someone. The staff decided that even though I was crying already for safety's sake I needed to go to the cafeteria with everyone for lunch. I got lectured by someone who I don't think even worked on our unit about how I need to participate in the program including going to groups (group made me cry) and go to meals (during anxiety attacks?). I got to the cafeteria and was left to cry hysterically at a table alone. No staff tried to talk to me. I later saw my doctor and broke down crying telling him this. He wrote an order saying that I could eat on the ward, and they would bring a tray if I couldn't go to the cafeteria.
Now the eating disorder comes in. I didn't eat lunch Thursday because I was crying. I stayed on the unit Thursday night and all of Friday, and nobody brought trays for me. I didn't tell them until Friday night, so I had skipped 5 meals. I told my therapist who happened to be around. I went with the discharge planner to get some papers from my room. I came back and the therapist was talking to this night nurse Daniel (he will come up later). Shit hit the fan. They were looking at the order on my chart. A few hours before dinner I mentioned to a different nurse and it was heard by another nurse on the desk about the order. The one I was talking to looked at me like I was lying. The other said to check my chart. I told this to Daniel when they called me over. Next thing I know he's talking with this guy from another unit(who seriously looks like he should be a professional wrestler) and they're offering me food. They mention the sandwiches in the fridge and I say I don't eat meat. They offer to order pizza and I panic. I don't remember when in the conversation I started crying. I say I am recovering from an eating disorder and would prefer not to eat because this is too much. They say they just want me to eat since I hadn't eaten in almost 2 days and need fuel. The wrestler guy asks what I want to eat, and I honestly couldn't think of anything. They finally say they will order pizza for everyone and get me a salad. I say fine and go to my room to cry in bed. A while later wrestler is at the door of my room and asks me to come out. He says he got me a vegetarian pasta and garden salad. I nod and go out. There's a bunch of pizzas for everyone else and the pasta and salad for me. I sit down with it and of course other people sit at the table. Of course one comments on them getting me a salad and asks about me being vegetarian. This means at least 1 person noticed that I was eating something different and I am mortified. I put the pasta back on the counter. I tell Daniel I ate the salad but absolutely can't eat the pasta. He thanks me for eating, and I hide in my bedroom until it's time for night meds.
Saturday I get trays and eat some meals. Sunday I wake up and have 3 cups of coffee and tell the tech Scott (who will come up in a minute) not to bring me breakfast. I tell the nurse I will eat lunch. I tell Scott not to bring me lunch when it's time. He comments that I should eat. The asshole weekend nurse comes by as I am laying in bed during lunch and tells me my depression will just get worse if I don't eat. I tell Scott not to bring dinner and he asks if I have eaten at all and makes me say that I will eat something later. I manage to avoid it. Monday I tell them not to bring breakfast or lunch. The tech insists on bringing a dinner tray. It wasn't vegetarian, so I threw it away when they weren't looking. Knowing that the longer this goes on, the harder eating will be, I later ask Daniel for a snack (having mentioned not eating Sunday). He says this other tech who for some reason makes me uncomfortable can get it. I decide not to ask, so I go over 48 hours without food. Today I wake up and while sitting around I decided to go to breakfast and ask another patient to sit with me for support. I had told her over a few days why I didn't go to the cafeteria and she knew some of the situations and patients that triggered my anxiety. She and my roommate had noticed a couple times when I was starting to panic. So I ate in the cafeteria. Lunch.. group ran late and that made me really anxious about running late for lunch. The same patient saw and agreed I shouldn't go and offered to bring me tea from the cafeteria. I reminded the tech that I needed a vegetarian tray, and it never came. So I had tea and goldfish crackers.
So I don't know why I am mentioning this because it's embarrassing, but it does explain some of this. I have a habit of becoming slightly attached to staff members in treatment. Sometimes it's women. Sometimes it's attractive men. Maybe because I don't date, my mind jumps at the opportunity to get attention from men. Not romantic.. just attention, concern, and sympathy. I learned my lesson early on about male patients. I made friends with this guy my first time inpatient. He shared his diet sodas with me (I was an ED patient and not allowed diet products). We watched cartoons in our pajamas. I gave him my phone number when he discharged. He called me months later to say he had started cutting and it reminded him of me.. WTF? So I don't give my info to male patients. But staff.. Daniel was very sweet. He was one of the only people to get an honest answer if he asked if I was ok. He was there when I admitted and had me wait until there was a female nurse to do my skin assessment. He was always very nice and quiet waking me for vitals. So maybe I told the therapist about the trays because he was there and I knew would be nice about it. He had pretty eyes. Scott was also really attractive and very nice. So probably I refused meals hoping he would say something. I might have wanted attention, and I got the concerned looks. I got told I should eat. The days that nobody brought trays, nobody said anything. Apparently if you're fat enough, even if your chart mentions an eating disorder, not eating is perfectly acceptable. As much as I cried, the whole mess with Daniel and the wrestler at least made me feel like maybe I deserved food.
A lot of my anxiety was due to other patients. The ones who yell at staff or the girl across the hall. The girl in the room across from mine had dissociative identity disorder and would periodically freak out. She would try to hurt herself and she would hit things. One day she threw a chair. One day I woke before 5 to her breaking a shelf in her room. It didn't make me feel safe. One day she was sitting in the hallway and three staff were trying to stop her hitting her head on the wall. The patient who sat with me at breakfast made me change chairs so I couldn't watch because she knew she scared me. Don't get me wrong, I have sympathy. I understand his self harm and that triggered urges in me. However, she threw things and broke things and we had to sleep with doors open, so that didn't feel safe. Any other violent patient was moved to a different ward, but for some reason she was an exception (I have my theories) and I lost sleep because of her. I think on some level I might have been jealous of the attention she got, which is horrible.
I did self harm some. Of course I didn't want to extend my stay, so I only told the weekend therapist I had urges to self harm. I didn't say that the tech who searched my belongings left me the little plastic cover for my toothbrush and by that point had broken it in pieces with sharp edges and scratched myself. He did get Daniel to unlock my bedroom so I could read where it was quiet. They have a rule about locking the bedrooms most of the day and making us stay in the day room. The day room made me incredibly anxious, so I might have manipulated them a couple times to let me into my bedroom to either cry or sit/lie in bed to avoid anxiety attacks. I was occasionally asked by staff if I was ok because I was lying there staring at the wall because I was exhausted but unable to sleep.. or crying and breathing into the blanket because I was near hyperventilating.
Oh and this hospital uses Ativan for detox instead of Librium.. and apparently it gives me double vision. I sat watching TV and realized that I was seeing double, and I ignored it. The next day after sitting through a group where everyone had 2 heads I told my psychiatrist. I realized I should mention that while I had taken Ativan before it was never that much. He looked it up and that is a side effect, though he said I was his first patient to have this problem. He switched me to Librium and it went away. I actually only needed detox meds for 3-4 days of my stay. That was actually nicer than the usual Librium taper which lasts a week.
After discharge, I was a grownup and went to the bank to report the debit card that I lost a few weeks ago. I went to target for groceries. Now.. I am watching Grey's Anatomy and finishing the half bottle of vodka that was in my freezer. Yes, this is bad. I don't intend to buy more, but I decided at some point to finish this. I think there are parts of the stay that bordered on traumatic. The anxiety was something that I hadn't experienced before. I just want one last night. Tomorrow I start PHP with the same therapist as before and I know that will be weird because he kept recommending inpatient/residential. I don't think he will judge. I think he will be happy that I came back. I plan not to drink through PHP/IOP, so tonight is the last opportunity. I have to go clothes shopping with my mom tomorrow because Thursday we are going to see RENT (the musical) on/for my birthday. It was the reason I worried about going inpatient. I was worried I would miss it, and while I don't know I suspect the tickets weren't cheap. I am happy to be out in time to go. I have actually asked my mom about seeing a movie and about going out to dinner for my birthday. I am planning not to go back to work until the 30th, which scares me. I am feeling guilty for extra time off, but it gives me a chance to try php. It also means I can do social things like shopping and movies and dinner. I know I need to work on social anxiety, so I will try. I will not go back early. I haven't even texted anyone. I will tell the manager and my supervisor tomorrow. Today is a non-stress day. No email. No work texts. Just life.
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