Friday, March 5, 2010


I feel embarrassed about this. But I just got out of the hospital. For the first time ever, I've now been hospitalized for depression. Really, all I wanted was to talk to a suicide counselor. But the hotline I called must have been a different one, because she sent the police to my house, and they took me to the hospital. I ended up there all night long in the ER. Literally. I called the hotline around 10:00 or 10:30 pm. I was at the hospital soon after. Then, it was 7:30 in the morning by the time they finally told me I had no choice but to be admitted. I didn't sleep at all. And all of this was triggered by the fact that my neighbors don't let me sleep, so I got anxious and depressed. So now, are they making me feel any better? No, not at all. Really, by that morning I wasn't feeling suicidal anymore. I was just tired and really too tired to think about it. The moment had passed. Still, I had no choice. It was still 4:30 or so by the time they took me upstairs to my room, which I had to share (not good, I'm a light sleeper). I was exhausted, but they had me doing a few things once I got up there. I had no chance to sleep. They make you eat dinner at 5:00. I don't even get hungry until 7:00 or so. But I had to eat. Still, the food upstairs on the 7th floor was waaaayyy better than the stuff in the ER. It was at least tolerable. I couldn't even eat the stuff downstairs. Then my dad came to visit. They told me I'd get to go home the next day. The next day, I met with the doctors. They didn't want me to take the new meds until that night. So I was there another day! Really, BEING THERE made me feel depressed. Everyone there was nice, but the patients were depressed and that was hard to take. Some of them were worse off than me, being that they talked to themselves and stuff. Plus, I really missed my dog. I didn't like the hospital beds. It felt like I was just sleeping on the box springs. Plus, they check on you every 15 minutes. Those doors were not quiet, so I heard it every time and it made me jump. I didn't feel comfortable with someone watching me sleep. I had nightmares about it when I managed to sleep an hour. I just felt worse being there. They didn't let us outside at all. They didn't let us exercise. They didn't let me have my facial moisturizer or my facial cleanser, but my roommate got to keep her shampoo, conditioner, lotion, and body wash. I got zilch. I didn't trust them to watch my stuff that they were holding. They had it locked up, but it went through a few hands by then, and they told me they had to inventory it, so they went through each item before they locked it up, including my cash. Then, when they let me go, I got a sheet of paper saying they think my diagnosis is schizoaffective disorder instead of bipolar. I read about schizoaffective disorder. The schizophrenic symptoms match me not at all. I have no idea why they'd say that. I'm bipolar. So I'm pissed about that because now I don't trust them to help me. They're going to be treating a condition I don't have. And because I need help paying for my medications, I have to see their doctor or I don't get my pills. I don't trust their doctors. I'm so unhappy about it all. Not to mention, I didn't get all the stuff coming out that I went in with, including a couple of dollars and a vial of my motion sickness pills that mysteriously went missing. I just don't trust them at all. I hope I get a good doctor. I wish I could continue to see my old doctor.

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