Posted by noa on July 3, 2000, at 11:17:47
In reply to A medley of solutions (at least for now), posted by Cass on July 3, 2000, at 1:11:51
I'm glad to hear you are feeling a tad better. I was going to suggest doing some volunteer work, like visiting infants and children at one of the poorer hospitals. This is something I have done on and off for about 6 years, and it always makes me feel needed. My heart goes out to the little ones stranded without their families in a resource-poor hospital, where the nurses are short-handed. They need someone to hold them and play with them and read them a story. It helps me feel better about myself because I see the results immediately that I am contributing to someone else's life, even if only for a brief moment.
I also was reminded, as I read your post, of the July 4th holiday 16 years ago, when I was 23 years old. On the afternoon of the 1st, I was deadly depressed. Usually, when I was at work, I was protected from my horrible depressive thoughts and suicidal feelings. But that afternoon, knowing I had no plans for the holiday, my "monster" snuck into my consciousness. My suicidal urges became stronger and stronger, and though I had had such strong urges before, never before had I felt this determined and thought of a plan that would actually work. I knew that if I went home, I would be likely to carry it out, and so I needed to get serious help or it would happen.
When I left work, instead of going home, I walked (back in my pre-car days, when I got lots of exercise from walking the mile to and from work) to the emergency room of the local hospital. I waited in the waiting room a while, but then a big trauma came in, with several wounded (gun shots, I think), so I left, knowing I would have waited all night at that point. Coincidentally, my HMO (Harvard Community Health Plan) was just next door, practically, from the hospital, so I went there. It was after hours, but they had a psychiatric social worker on duty for emergencies. I spoke with her and told her I believed I needed to go into the hospital becasue I was seriously considering suicide. She agreed, called my therapist, and then arranged for a taxi to take me to the hospital.
By the time I was checked in, it was midnight and the date was July 2. I refused the medical check up, as I really did not like the doctor who was rather cold and impersonal and seemed annoyed that I disturbed him at that hour of the night. I was interviewed by a semi-literate technician, who took my shoes away, which felt like an indignity to me. I spent my first 24 hours on a locked unit, where overeager psychtechs took vitals all too often. Otherwise us patients just hung around in a sparse lounge being misearable.
There was one occupational therapist who came around to offer an art therapy group, and I chose to participate, which was good because I enjoyed it. This particular therapist turned out to be one of a few professionals at this hospital that had anything to offer.
I met with a psychiatrist once during this first day, and he decided to move me to an unlocked unit. Thank God.
On the unlocked unit, I met many interesting people among the patients. This unit was not staffed by techs, but by nurses, who had more to offer. In particular, there was one nurse who was very helpful. Otherwise, I just felt the nurses were there to record our every move and hand out medication. Still, on the unlocked unit, there were more therapy group options, which I opted to try, since boredom was my enemy. Mostly, though, these groups were fairly silly, run by inexperienced young activities therapists. But the OT from the first day led several, and I chose hers as much as I could.
July 3, my doc told me he would change the orders to give me priveleges to go out of the unit to other groups. But July 4 came and he had forgotten to give the orders and was on vacation. So, July 4, I was stuck inside and bored, because there were no on-unit groups that day. I was furious at the doctor, of course.
I remember watching the concert and fireworks on the local PBS station. John Williams was newly appointed pops conductor. One of the patients, Scott, asked, "Do you guys know what Arthur Fiedler is doing now?" --"Decomposing". This is one of the few jokes I have heard in my lifetime that I actually can remember! It was wonderful. It broke the ice in the little group of us patients who had gathered around the telly to watch the celebration.
July 5, the doc changed the orders, which allowed me to go around on the hospital grounds, which was helpful. The weather was great, and it was good to get outside. Also, it enabled me to go to the music room, and to the dining room without a nurse escort. But, the doc missed his appointment with me that morning, and I was furious again. He claims I missed the appointment with him, which I was certain was incorrect.
July 6, I was able to leave. A friend of my brother's picked me up and took me home.
That hospital experience, my only psych hospitalization, was a bottom-hitting point. It kept me safe for those few days when I was so vulnerable, but it didn't do much more therapeutically. Still, the one nurse that was helpful, put me in touch with a therapist at Family Services who was starting a group, and that group helped me immensely. Shortly after starting that group, I began to pull myself together. I still struggled with depression, but the suicidal urges went away.
poster:noa
thread:39010
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/20000630/msgs/39133.html