I don’t remember what we were fighting about. I don’t think it was even fighting so much as I was showing a display of passive aggressive behavior. My mind was a muddle of emotions and anxiety. I was clearly hypomanic, but I don’t think my mother recognized that. But regardless my mom and I were tense. She told me to go upstairs and grab a pillow to sit on the couch and watch a movie with her. I went upstairs. But instead of grabbing a pillow I grabbed a pill bottle and took every single Aspirin in that bottle. About 20 in total. I didn’t want to do this. I was too tiered to deal with the frenzy in my mind. I then stormed downstairs and threw the bottle at her, asking her what she was going to do about it.
It took her a few moments to realize what I had done but once it clicked she rushed me to the car and we were off to the emergency room. Once there I was taken to a room and made to sit on a table and given a slushy of charcoal. A poor attempt had been made to make it somewhat palatable by adding some sugar to the slush, but it was still vile. A blood test was taken, and several hours later a social worker was sent to talk to me. The ordinary questions were asked.
“Are you suicidal now?”
“Clearly”
“How are things at home”?
“Fine”
“Have you been suicidal in the past?"
“Yes”
“You are diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder”
“Yes”
Finally after about 12 hours waiting in the ER I was taken up to a room. I didn’t know exactly what was going to happen from this point. They were being very vague about things, I had no idea if they were going to release me or send me to the psych ward. I spent the next 24 hours in a hospital room. Being continually given blood tests to make sure that the toxins were leaving my body. And shitting and vomiting a tar like substance from that charcoal beverage. It was miserable. My parents stayed with me during this time. We went back and forth between cracking jokes about the situation, my favorite mode of coping and being on the verge of tears. I hated to see how terrified I had made them.
Eventually I learned that I was going to be placed in the psych ward. That I had no choice in the matter was legally required to be there. A nurse came to fetch me with a wheelchair, which I was forced to sit in o the ride to the ward, despite the fact that I was perfectly capable of walking. The nurse wheeled me to the elevator and down we went. To the basement level and then through a long winding labyrinth of a corridor, I suspect that it was such a maze with the intent of being another barrier to keep the lunatics from escaping. We came to the doors of the loony bin. The doors reminded me of the set up that you see in aviaries or butterfly houses. Two sets of heavy double doors, first one and then about 20 ft to another. Each set of doors was locked with both a code and needed to be swiped with a key card.
I was taken to a small room where I had to undress for a pair of female nurses, who made a throughout examination of my body, taking careful note of every scar and mark on my body, the younger of the two was a blonde with a pleasant face, but the older grimaced when she made note of my tattoo and pink hair.
Finally I was taken to what would be my room, 15B. There were two beds made of solid wood with no screws or any other metal bits that could be take out and used as weapons, a dresser and a built in bathroom that had no door. A male nurse rummaged through my bag taking away anything that could be at all dangerous.
Belt, gone. Sweatshirt that had a string tie, gone. Boots, gone. Notebook and pens, gone. Bra, gone. Glasses, gone. (I was told that I could ask for a new pair of my contacts every morning). Book on Bedlam Hospital, gone (“this is vastly inappropriate reading for you”) Jeans gone as a zipper could be dangerous. I was left with a pair of sweatpants, a single book, several t-shirts, my striped stockings, and my stuffed bear. Technically I was not allowed to have this bear but the nurse in a show of kindness told me to hide her under my pillow and he would let it slide. I was left alone to collect myself and I curled up in my bed and stared at the wall. Trying to clear my head and breath. But I couldn’t stop shaking.
It had finally happened. I always feared it was only a matter of time. I was locked up. Stamp my crazy card and call me a lunatic.
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