On this day last year I checked myself into Harborview Emergency (the worst place I could have chosen, all the wackos go here when they have no insurance) so I wouldn’t kill myself. This is one of the reasons I wasn’t posting. I had to get some distance before I could even talk about it. I’d been gradually more and more suicidal and depressed the year after my cancer treatment. Meds weren’t working. I called first, asked if I should go home first and get pj’s and toothbrush and they said, oh no, we’ve got everything you need. You just come in, we’ll get you a room, get you cozy, and take care of everything.
They sedated me, strapped my hands and feet to a gurney in a busy hallway for 5 hours and then after another 5 more hours in the ward and a talk with a doctor they sent me home. They had lots of chairs in the special psych emergency ward where I could have quietly sat and read for those five hours but if there is no bed, you get a gurney until there is a bed. The beds are all in rooms with doors so the other weirdos can’t bother you. One guy stood just outside my door until they shooed him away. It was a horror show. It was clear I wasn’t as around the bend compared to some folks there. The doctor’s advice? “Usually after a couple hours here, most folks feel just fine and just want to go home.”
Once you tell them you feel suicidal you lose ALL your rights IMMEDIATELY and COMPLETELY and not even a lawyer can get you out. Trust me. I called. You’re in until they say you’re out. This is how they treat a breast cancer patient with PTSD.
My one triumph was that I was able to get one hand out of the straps and use my cell phone and hide my head under the blanket. Some triumph huh? Pathetic. At the time it was as good a fuck you as I could come up with.
And I guess I was glad I didn’t have a pineapple growing out of my lady parts. Must have been Pinterest. I spent a couple years on Pinterest. The first year I was so drugged out it was all, “oooh pretty, pin.” over and over and over again. or “oooh funny” or “oooh I wish my life was that pretty”
These are the photos I found a year ago on the day that this event happened. For your enjoyment. I mean who wouldn’t want a pineapple coming out of their butt?
P.S. It’s taken all 2 years post treatment to get to a place where I call someone when I feel the spiral down into hell begin. And I get home and smoke some medical marijuana, it takes the suicidal thought jag away immediately. I don’t know what I’d have done without Casey. Why he stuck with me through all this crap still blows me away.