I was talking to a friend the other day about my experiences in the psych wards and the treatment I received in some of them. While the workers in the psych ward in Colorado were all true angels, I met quite a few devils, as well as angels, at the ones here in NJ. With this blog, I am mainly going to focus on my most recent psych ward experience at P.H. The HMC experiences will be written in a future post.
P.H- P.H was the most recent and the most luxurious psych ward that I have ever been to. They provided all sorts of therapy including dance therapy, music therapy, and art therapy. There was stretching, tai chi, yoga, a gym... there was even carpet...it was nice! I couldn't help but wonder what it must be like where the celebrities/those with money go.
My stay here lasted 12 days (I was transferred to here from being 12 days at HMC). On the first day at the psych ward, the psychiatrist took me off one of the meds I was just put on 6 days prior at the other psych ward (Lexapro). He then started me on a new med (Latuda) to go along with the Lamictal that I've been taking for the last 2 months. I couldn't help but think, what incentives is he getting from this drug company since it just has recently come out?
After taking this med for two days, I began to experience EXTREME psychosis- I was severely angry the first day; I rarely get angry and boy was I angry. There was no reason for my anger, but my blood was boiling and I felt my blood pressure rise. On the second day I became severely depressed. On day 3, I saw the doctor and expressed what I was experiencing. I swore he said he would take me off of the Latuda. For the remainder of the day, I didn't eat and I slept all day. As evening approached, I started having suicidal thoughts. At 5:30 that evening, my nurse came in and told me it was time for meds. Confused, I stated that I didn't have meds to take at the time (Latuda would be taken at that time). I told her that I thought the doctor told me he was taking me off. She responded saying "I don't recall seeing anything, but will check with the doctor." Moments later she came back "There was nothing in your chart. Do you want to take them?" I refused, I was convinced the doctor told me he'd take me off and secondly I refused them because I felt my mind go from fucked up to extremely fucked up being on this med.
Throughout the night and the next day I was highly suicidal. I saw the doctor and he asked me why I didn't take my meds. In which I responded with "I thought you said you were taking me off of it." His response was "No, I said I was increasing it." I didn't recall him saying that at all. I expressed to him that I didn't want to take it anymore because I was experiencing suicidal ideations to the extreme. I told him I wanted to die and started talking non-logically. He then asked me if I'd harm myself. "Can you contract for safety." My response was "well I'm in a psych ward. it's hard to harm yourself when you are checked on every 15 minutes". He then stated "There are still ways to do it." So I looked around the room and thought of ways I could do it and blurted out..."well I guess if I wet my hands and put my finger in the outlets I can do it." "I'm upping your Latuda" he said and I was then placed on suicide watch for 24 hours.
For those of you who don't know...being on suicide watch means having a one-on-one; having someone follow you around for 24 hours. The first shift worker I had on this one-on-one started out by snidely saying "You know why I'm following you, right." There was no "Hi, how are you. I'm here to follow you around" Oh no, that would be too much to ask for from this worker. Instead I was given the 'you are burdening me because you are now making me have to work and move around' attitude. And because of this, I was treated as if I were scum of the earth. There were times throughout the day where I wanted to run and stop, have her follow me, turn around and run again and continue doing so. I played this scenario in my head and thought it would be awesome, however, I knew that if I were to act it out, I'd be injected or given stronger meds that I didn't need. So throughout the day, she sat/stood there angrily staring at me. It was quite uncomfortable. It made me mad as well because it wasn't of my control what these meds were doing to my mind. My mind was out of control- it was going, going, going...gone.
After lunch, ice cream was available, which is rare; the ice cream cart comes around every few days. Although at first I didn't want any because I've been off of sweets for so long and didn't really have any craving for it...my sweet tooth kicked in. And like Homer Simpson with his Duff beer, I thought "chocolate chips...yum, " while drooling. So I went over to the ice cream stand and asked for a lot of chocolate chips. The lady then asked "Any ice cream" in which I responded without thinking "yes..just a little bit with a lot of chocolate chips."
As the first morsel of chocolate hit my lips, my brain went off. I remember savoring the taste of the sweetness of the chocolate. And before I knew it...the ice cream and all the chocolate was gone and so was the cart. I needed more chocolate. "NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" I thought. I need more chocolate. I need some and I need it now. Luckily, I remembered having chocolate in my storage unit they had locked up. I went over to angry lady and asked for my chocolate in which she said to ask my nurse. I then went to my nurse asked her and was told to ask the head nurse. I then went over to the head nurse and asked her. "NO" was the answer I was given.
"No?" I asked
"You are not allowed any outside food." I was told.
That wasn't a good enough answer for me..."But it's packaged and it's chocolate."
"Outside food is not allowed. It's the rule."
And Like a mad woman I went off at the nurses station. "I NEED MY CHOCOLATE!!"
Angry lady then responded "You just had chocolate"
"You don't understand, chocolate is my crack (never did crack or anything, but I'm sure I acted like someone on it). So you're telling me smokers are allowed to get their fix, but I can't have my fix of chocolate? That's fucked up. No wonder why people are suicidal around here" I was pissed and feeling defeated I went to my room with my puppy dog behind me. (Actually I shouldn't say puppy dog, it's an insult to puppy dogs. Instead I shall say ball and chain).
So there I laid in my bed, crying hysterically, feeling my mind slip away into psychosis. Knowing that I was being stared down at and a burden to this worker, I got up, closed the bathroom door, and sat on the floor and wept. What is wrong with me? Am I going to be like this forever? Why can't I be normal? I've lost my mind. I've lost my mind. I'VE LOST MY FUCKING MIND. These were the thoughts racing in my head. I don't know how long I was in there for, but it was a long time. Outside of the bathroom door, I heard angry woman ask for a break and her replacement sitting down. It was a male and he asked if I was okay- In my shaky voice I responded "no." "What?" he asked. I repeated "no" louder.
"Well if there is anything I can do to help, let me know. That's what we are here for." he said and I continued on crying. I looked for ways I could hurt myself while in the bathroom, but there was nothing. I was too weak to get up and bang my head against the sink (hoping to aim for the temple). I then started to become uncomfortably cold- the cold tile floor was not helping and my bones were beginning to ache from the coldness. So I got up opened the door and went over to my bed. I asked the man sitting guard at the door if I can get vistaril and then laid on my bed with the covers over me. I was a zombie...a dead soul in a live body that was shaking. I overheard him ask my nurse for the vistaril. Moments later, my nurse appeared with my med. I uncovered my face, sat up and I downed the drug.
"Do you want to see something funny? Do you like dogs?" the man asked.
A little spark lit up inside and I looked over to him with tears still in my eyes. "I love dogs," I uttered in a broken voice.
"Here's a video of my dog dancing" he said joyfully and he gave me his phone.
There on the screen was a maltese poodle doing a dance as he was begging for a treat. It was cute and funny and it brought a little bit of happiness to me. "Isn't that funny?" he cackled.
"Yes..it's cute." I then asked him if his dog was a maltese poodle and indeed it was. He continued the conversation and asked me if I have any dogs. "No. Sadly I don't. I've wanted one, but haven't had the means to have one. But I have volunteered in shelters in the past."
"That's so wonderful you volunteered" he exclaimed as if he were a cheerleader. He then encouraged me to get up and go to the group that was about to start. "I'm running it," he exclaimed with such joy. Although I really didn't want to, I did have a little more energy after seeing the dog video and his positivity helped a lot so I got up. Then angry lady appeared and we went to the group altogether.
There was only four of us in this group. There was the facilitator, angry lady, one other patient and I. There were probably about 20 patients total on this unit and everybody else was so drugged up, they were sleeping. I forget exactly what we were discussing during this therapy session. All I remember is at some point during the therapy group, angry lady blurting out saying "Y'all should be grateful for what you have. People have it worse off than you do."
For those of you who haven't read my post "What not to say to depressed people", I mention in there that saying what she stated is something you never say to a depressed person. You would think this mental health aide/all mental health workers would know this, but apparently not. So of course after she said this, my blood began to boil and I responded stating "you know it's easy for you to say. But saying something like that to us, doesn't help us feel any better. We know that we 'should' be grateful for what we have. We 'should' be lots of things and the fact that we aren't grateful and we aren't everything else we 'should' be makes some of us more depressed. That's fucked up what you said." As I got up to leave the room, I mentioned that I wanted a new aide. Like a ball and chain she followed me out the door stating "If you want a new aide tell your nurse." I overheard the facilitator say her clock out time is 3:30 and that I didn't have much longer with her. So I looked at the nearest clock and saw it was 3:00. "It's not worth it," I said. But that remark only added fuel to the fire. "No, you said you wanted a new aide, tell your nurse and you'll get a new aide" My response again was "It's not worth it. You're not worth it." I then sat by the 1000 piece puzzle that I was working on as she continued provoking me. "What...you think you're the only one with problems?" she said to me. I looked at her in disgust. Was I really hearing this? Was this really happening? Yes...yes it was. "We all have problems, I've got problems," she continued. I couldn't help but respond "How low of a person are you to be saying this stuff to a patient in the psych ward? Maybe you should consider being a patient then"
Moments later, my nurse came out and called my name.
"You should tell the nurse about what you said"
I looked over to her and said "You're not worth it."
I then walked over to my nurse. She asked how I was doing and if the med was helping. I said yes, thanked her and as I was turning away to go back to my puzzle, little miss angry lady blurted out "Aren't you going to tell the nurse what you told me?"
In which case, my nurse confused, asked "What?"
The aide then pointed at me and in her ghetto attitude said "Ask her."
"What's going on, Aoife" my nurse asked.
Furious, I said "it's nothing."
"Well you had your chance" angry lady retorted
The blood boiled up inside yet again and I went over to my nurse and said "I was wanting a new aide. She's been disrespectful and provoking and I realize it's not worth asking for a new one because there is only like 20 minutes until she leaves." The nurse and I looked over at the aide who sat there looking oh so innocently as if she had done nothing wrong. Looking away twirling her hair around her fingers. I then stormed back to the puzzle and attempted to ignore the aide.
"Actually it's 15 minutes." she said after my nurse had left.
I looked up at her and glared at her and she glared right back at me. I continued on with my puzzle and my thoughts went from rational to sympathetic to angry thinking "Wow... how do people like this work here? I understand it's a hard job and all, but what happened to keeping your personal life at home.What a fucking bitch she is." Minutes later a fellow patient sat down across from me. Wanting to block her from my view, I moved my chair over so that the other patient was in the way of my line of fire. Just as I was doing so, she moved her head over so she was back in the line of fire and glared at me further. "My God." I looked back at the clock- 10 more minutes.
Things became quiet not too long after because the next shift worker had come in and was quite early. Already angered by this angry lady, I was not the nicest to the new ball and chain worker. I remember her sitting right beside me. In my mind I was thinking...at least angry lady sat across the room and not on top of me. And I got up and sat on the other side of the table while stating "my god let me have some space." As time went on, I started to become less and less angry. I found the new shift worker to be quite nice. She gave me my space, didn't provoke me, and because of this, I started to open up a little. "I'm sorry about how nasty I was before," I stated. Shocked by what I said, "Oh, no worries. I realized I was kindof on top of you and I wanted you to have your space." We continued talking and as it turned out, she was one of the first workers I met when I arrived at P.H. I didn't recognize her because she didn't have her glasses on and her hair was down. I remember how comforting and warm she was when I arrived that night. I apologized even more so because I felt so bad. She told me not to worry about it and that it's quite normal. I then opened up to her about the experience with the other worker. "Yeah, unfortunately, we get a lot of those here, but there are some good ones as well. Got to take the good with the bad."
5:30 then came around and I was told it was med time. Again, I refused to take the med. I didn't understand the logic behind him increasing the dose when it came to what I was experiencing. So being my own advocate, I told the nurse I didn't want it and she noted it in the chart.
The evening came and went by quickly. Before I knew it there was another shift change. I thanked this shift worker for everything she did. She really helped me regain some sanity. My night shift worker was just as nice as well. We talked for quite some time... a lot of it again was about awful angry lady. I felt bad because she was stuck in the room with me all night, so I gave her a book I was reading and left the light on so she could read. By the next morning, I was starting to feel closer to "normal." I was given a new shift worker and started calling her my personal assistant.
That morning, I met with the treatment team which included my doctor, my nurse, dance therapist, social worker, and a few others. I hated how the treatment team was set up. In the middle of the room they had the one chair, the chair the patient sits. And all of the other chairs were placed against the wall, far away from this chair. So the session started off with the doctor asking how I was doing.
I responded with "A lot better. I refused taking the Latuda and I'm feeling better. I don't think you understand what my brain chemistry has been experiencing the last few months." I continued on stating to them how "I was off meds for quite some time during last summer and as October hit, feelings of depression started to settle in. So I started taking 5-HTP. I expressed to them that it wasn't really working (due to me not taking the correct dosage), so I started my lexapro (I had some saved) with it. That wasn't working so I took myself off of the 5-HTP and started taking Wellbutrin with the lexapro (as I was prescribed in the past). When I was home after Thanksgiving my aunt gave me Sam-E. So I started taking that with the lexapro and wellbutrin. When I ended up in the psych ward in Colorado- they took me off of everything and started me on Lamictal. When I came home to NJ and went to HMC psych ward the first time, wellbutrin was added. When I started experiencing extremely high anxiety/mania a few days later, I was taken off of it. Then a week later I arrived at HMC again and that's when I was placed on lexapro with the lamictal...So you see, my brain chemistry has been fucked up. No time was given really for the Lamictal to run it's full course. What I'd like ideally is to be off all of these meds and then start from scratch." My doctor then said that he'll keep me on the Lamictal. As they were getting ready to push me out of the door, I told them I had something I'd like to add. I expressed to them how upset I was of how unprofessional the one-on-one shift worker treated me. I told them I understand that I was in extreme psychosis, but whatever the case, the worker had no right to treat a patient or anybody the way she did. I then thanked them, got up and left. When I saw angry lady again a few days later, I went up to her and told her that I was in an extreme psychotic mind frame and I didn't appreciate how she treated me. I apologized for my behavior and she did the same and we left on good terms. I do have to say, the remainder of my time there went pretty well. Overall, it was an interesting experience all around and I do have a few interesting stories from there.
Thank you for reading
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