10-13 – 72 hour psych hold – The story of a bipolar outcast. (This is a 4 part series.)

The story: My hubby and I went tubing the week before everything happened. There was a lot of rain so the water was rough, but we decided to go anyway. We were probably a quarter of the way down the river when I hit a rock that knocked me out of the tube and underwater. The tube fell on top of me and when I finally stood up my anxiety was bad I couldn’t breathe. The moments after this are kind of blurred except the fight with my husband (when it gets bad there is ALWAYS a fight with my husband.) The next days after that it kept getting worse and that feeling in my stomach wouldn’t go away. I left where I was that Friday and rushed myself to the ER convinced I was dying of something. (I tend to be a tad bit dramatic.) The dr in the ER told me I was just experiencing some mild anxiety and prescribed me Ativan (3). (We now know I can’t take Ativan because it makes me manic.) The entire weekend was just a blur. I know I wasn’t sleeping, then I was and then I tried to run out of the condo naked a few times and drive my car. (if you’ve read the exorcism post this should sound familiar.) I  got time confused and started texting and calling people at all hours of the night. When Monday finally came around I crashed then on Tuesday I had a doctors appointment and that is when it all happened.

I don’t trust general practitioners to this day because of this. It was Tuesday, July 16, 2013, I went in at 8:30 am for a dr. appointment and somewhere I scared the hell out of Nurse Practitioner with closing blinds, turning off a light and sitting in the dark (I’m sure other stuff happened I can’t remember.) I sat there for awhile and then the doctor came in and said we are taking you across the street to the hospital (Morgan Memorial), but when I said I would drive they said, “No the nurse will bring you.” I should’ve known something was up then. When we got to the hospital there were security guards and nurses around the check in desk and then I knew something was wrong. After I checked in they put me in a bed by the nurses station and every time I had to go to the bathroom they would follow me. (This should’ve been my clue.) between then and about 2:30 I had nurses and doctors in and out asking me questions taking my blood. I called my husband trying to keep him updated until he was able to get off work to sit with me. I kept asking when I was going to leave but no one would tell me anything and THEN finally that evil bitch walked in, the on staff psychologist. We played 20 questions and she pulled out a pile of papers and started playing 150 questions. I got irritated and asked if I could leave and she in this most condescending way possible says, “If you leave the sheriff will come and find you.” I still had no clue what the fuck was going on and she finally told me. “You were placed on a 10-13 (in the state of Ga) involuntary psych hold. So we are trying to find a bed for you at a psych hospital.” There was never anything comforting or further explanation besides, “You are bipolar, manic and a danger to yourself and others. We will come back when we have a bed for you.” That was it “a bed.” In the eyes of the state I am no longer a person, just “a bed.” I had become a number, a warm body to fill the bed and line the pockets of the insurance companies.

When my husband got there I told him the news. I was completely devastated and confused. We still weren’t completely sure of what was happening.  I tried to explain to him what was happening but it didn’t make any sense because NONE OF THIS MADE SENSE. The evil bitch finally came back when they had “a bed” and she could barely get the words out of her mouth before he got angry and started demanding answers. She explained everything to him and he said, “I want to take her there.” She said, “No she has to go by ambulance because she is in the care of the state.” I was “a bed” “in the care of the state.” I want you to think about how fucked up that is. They took my identity from me and made me a statistic, my illness at that point defined me. My husband talked her into letting him take me. He rushed home grabbed our daughter and some clothes. (If you aren’t familiar with psych hospitals; No shoelaces, no drawstrings, no belts, nothing sharp, nothing offensive, nothing triggering,) So he was able to run home grabbed some clothes and flip flops and my daughter. This still bothers some people because my daughter was there when I was dropped off.

We are getting to the good stuff…..

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