The Safety Dance at the Circus

After almost an entire day in the ER, I finally had my own room - with a trash can! I now also had a television, and I had a sink, mirror, paper towels and soap. My luxury accomodations also included a table, a bed, a chair, and a large empty room. Hallelujah!

The level of safety was impressive - everything was still bolted shut. I had windows into the hallway with blinds controls only on the outside of my room (more on that later). My bed was adjustable, thanks to the arm strength of the nurses who came to raise and lower it for me every time I requested it.

In addition, I had a large, shared bathroom which allowed me to get to know the staff very well, since I had to ask them to open it up with their special key every time I had to use it.

I was living a life of luxury, where literally I was not expected to lift a finger (unless I wanted to change the TV channel, in which case I had to almost literally stand up in bed to get the TV to see the remote signal).

I was finally allowed to have some personal items, which improved things somewhat. I was allowed to have my own pillow, and a blanket from home (but not my fringed crocheted afghan). I could have my cell phone (but no charger). I was amazed they allowed my scriptures with ribbon bookmarks.

(A rare safety pen - yes, it is a plastic ink/tip insert in a flexible tube - imagine if Shakespeare had used that marvel!)

I could have books and even journal with their specially issued pen. (I wonder what they would have done if they knew I ended up with TWO safety pens!)

Meals on paper pulp trays were very exciting - highly formal topped with the white scalloped paper placemat.

My night's respite in the psych unit began. The area was very quiet, and surprisingly relaxing with every single stress of life removed. Jr. and I enjoyed a Psych marathon on the Ion channel until I fell asleep - then he finally headed home for some much needed rest. I slept like a baby until my anxiety pill wore off - but that gave me a chance to see my handkerchief-headed nurse peering through the blinds at me after the 2:00 am shift change. (Frighteningly weird.)

Once she figured out I was awake, she came in to say hi. I asked for a snack, and she brought me some graham crackers and peanut butter - with a plastic knife. I couldn't believe my luck! (If only it hadn't been thrown away before breakfast came!)

After my early morning snack, I fell asleep again until around 6:30 am. I took advantage of my early waking and got to the bathroom before the morning rush -- and I even scored a shower a little later. I did not know what a blessing that was!

After I'd been up a little while, there was a knock at my door - the way the nurses always came in. I had to tell the person to come in twice, and when she did I was greeted by a large-statured psych patient who asked if she could come talk to me. I'm such a nice person (especially when in total shock) and told her she could. She turned to shut the door when I had the presence of mind to ask her not to. She looked at my hospital issued blue slipper socks and asked where I had got them. Hers were brown, but she was missing one and she liked my blue ones, she explained. Then she asked me what they called me - 58, 1058, .... ? I was quickly realizing I probably should not have let her in, when a nurse popped his head in to check in on things. As he determined this was not so comfortable for me, he guided the woman out of my room while I mouthed a huge "Thank you!" to him.

I spent the next hour or so listening to him try to lure her back into her room. I decided I wasn't doing things right when I heard him tell her, "I'll give you a cookie if you go back to your room."

Next up was the "Sergeant*." I never heard him addressed any other way. He was sitting at the table right outside my room. I heard him explain to a security officer (who had been called in to restrain my earlier friend) he had served in the military during the Korean War. He was a very sociable fellow, and happily completed his lunch order sheet for the nurse. Of course, then came the conversation about how he had ordered three turkey sandwiches (Can you really eat three turkey sandwiches, Sergeant?), and the explanation of how he was only supposed to order one menu item per category (at which point he had to be walked through the entire sheet by the nurse).

Shortly thereafter, the nurse came to pick up my lunch sheet and when I commented on all the activity, he sighed, "It's been a looooong morning."

On and off there were patients leaving their rooms to wander who had to be shepherded back to their rooms. I was starting to wonder where I had landed when I saw a half-naked woman (hospital gown on top, hospital blanket wrapped around the lower part, sort of) walking down the hall towards my room and gesture toward me saying, "I want to go to her room!" The nurse hurried over and shut my door. I texted Jr. and asked him to hurry to the hospital - I was now in need of a body guard.

It was obvious to me that I was feeling well enough to go home given the circus outside. It was so busy that I could hardly find someone to let me into the bathroom, because they were all stationed at strategic points to keep the patients from creating complete bedlam.

After a brief consultation with the ward psychiatrist (who was over two hours late getting to me -- see above chaos), we all decided it was a good idea for me to go home for the day and return for the intensive outpatient program in the morning. With a sigh of relief, and a prayer of gratitude for getting clothes (and underwear!) back, we headed home. I have never been so grateful to just walk into a bathroom as I was when we got home.

As I settled back home, I looked at Jr. and said, "If I EVER get to this point again, just grab those work scrubs in my closet and tell me to change out of ALL my clothes into them, and make me ask permission to use the bathroom every single time. I think it will cure me!" (*name changed)