I woke up at 5:00 a.m. and stared at the clock. I heard the nurses in the hallway and a few minutes later one of the nurses came to my room to draw blood. She told me to pee in a cup for lab testing. She took my blood pressure and then told me I could go to the activity room to watch T.V. and drink coffee if I wanted or I could rest until 7:00 and breakfast would be served. I waited until 6:30 to get out of bed. I brushed my teeth and got dressed. I started to panic. "Oh my God I need to get out of here! I will tell the nurses I am going to go home and recover at home. I can't be here. Phill doesn't even know where I am and I can't talk to him cause they took my cell phone! I need to go home right now!" (Phill didn't know where I was, but I asked my sister to Facebook him a message to call his parents immediately. Phill knew I was going to see my OB on July 21st and I told him the medicine didn't seem to be working. We had no clue she was going to suggest hospitalization, but she knew what she was doing and I agreed I needed more help than waiting for the medication to work if it ever did work for me.
I pulled it together enough to go sit down in the activity room. I said hi to the lady in the chair drinking her coffee and watching the morning news. She told me her name was Kendra. I told her my name and smiled. I waited until the nurse came in to give us our medication. She gave me an anti-depressant but no anti-anxiety med. I was shaking I was so anxious. The nurse said I could have something for my anxiety, but she suggested waiting to meet with my doctor first. The doctor would most likely do a medication change.
I took her advice and sat down. A social worker walked in to hand us our daily goals and evaluations. We had to rate our feelings 0-5. One question was how anxious we were feeling. I put a big fat 5 down for that one. Suicidal thoughts- I put a 0 down for that. It was true. Those thoughts stopped the minute I was admitted. I knew I was safe and I could only get better from here on out. The worst was over and I would get better. I didn't want to go through it in the hospital though. I wanted to go home.
We had to write down our goals and I wrote down, "to feel better." The social worker saw mine and said, "No it needs to be something you can measure." I glared at her and wrote, "to make it through the day."
We had to hand in one copy to the social worker and keep the other one for ourselves. We also had to fill out menus for the next upcoming meals. She handed me three menus. Thursday, Friday, Saturday. I almost threw up. I have to stay here until Saturday! Hell No! I couldn't wait until I could see my doctor. I would just tell him I will take my new medication and recover at home.
Breakfast came and it was gross. Cold eggs. I ate 1/2 a piece of toast and downed my apple juice. I had the worst dry mouth ever. I looked at the other patients sitting next to me. Dave, Kendra, Wendy, and a new woman who was admitted at 4:00 in the morning, Julie. During breakfast I learned that Dave and Wendy would be leaving today. Dave was going home and Wendy was going to some other treatment center. The two people I felt most comfortable with were leaving.
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