The Hospital Series: Part 1

If you read my last post, you know I was going down fast. Here’s the thing about bipolar depression – it gets bad very quickly. On October 22nd, at 9 in the morning, I saw my psychiatrist and she admitted me to the hospital.

There were no beds available yet, though, so I curled up in the fetal position in the corner of an empty office to wait for them to find a place for me. Finally at 3 in the afternoon I was escorted to the hospital and admitted to the psychiatric ward.

There’s something that always happens to me when I get admitted – for the first little while, there is just RELIEF that people are watching me and keeping me safe from the things I could do to myself. I remember friends visiting my first night, and I almost felt normal, like we were hanging out. Not like someone who had been composing music for his own funeral the night before.

But then, the relief passed, I realized that I still felt like my body was filled with lead, and I pretty much didn’t get out of bed for a couple of days. I really have trouble remembering some of this hospitalization, because I was SO depressed.

I’m going to talk about the hospital in short snippets, because it’s too much all at once.

Some Psych Hospital Survival Tips:
Stockpile towels. The nurses are always busy when you want to take a shower.
Don’t eat the chicken pot pie.
I will talk about Asperger’s sensitivities and psych hospitals later, but BRING EARPLUGS.
Sweatpants are a better choice then jeans because they might take away your belt and then your jeans will fall down.
You will have days where you feel great and can exercise, go to groups, do laundry, socialize…and then you will have days where you stay in bed all day.

I’m still in the hospital, but have gotten to the point where I can come home for a few hours. More blog posts are forthcoming, hopefully better ones… my brain is still too fried to be prolific.

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