Starting over

I called an out of state treatment center to try to get better help and they want me to do their inpatient program.

Advertisement

Hospitalization: Part 2

From my first morning on the Psychiatric Wing.

I hate social situations that involve a lot of strangers. This was no different. Most of the other patients were nice, friendly, and reached out to me, but my anxiety was high and I wanted to flee.

I arrived during dinner, which was bad in itself. I hate eating around others. However, I decided not to draw any more attention to myself than necessary by refusing to eat. After dinner, I promptly purged. I was so happy to have the room, and therefore the bathroom, all to myself. I then had my first shower in a few days, which made me feel worlds better. Then, off to my first group.

During my last hospitalization, I didn’t eat and I didn’t attend any groups, and that obviously wasn’t helpful. This time, I decided to attend as many groups as possible and try to get the most out of it I could. My first group had me questioning this decision as it comprised breaking up into 2 groups and playing balloon volleyball. I still don’t know the purpose of this group.

I chose not to actually participate in the game. It had been a long 2 days, I was tired and grumpy and just wanted to go to bed. I’m sure I looked terrified whenever the balloon came my way because I did not want to have to hit it. Luckily, “my” team was good and won without my help. After group, I took an Ambien and went to bed.

I woke up several times cold but was too tired and too achy to get up for another blanket. This morning, I woke up with a lot of self-loathing, wanting to die, wanting to stab myself, wishing I could destroy myself. This feeling persisted throughout the day.

At breakfast, I was tempted to take the knife with me and cut. Purging helped soothe me a bit. There are a couple ladies here I’m 99% sure are anorexic. I want to say “I’m eating, but I’m also purging everything!” I feel the need to justify eating. I am, by far, the fattest person here.

Hospitalization: part one

while doing inpatient over the last 10 days in a local psychiatric ward, I made some journal entries. Here is the first of those entries.

“I need my bag!”

The quote from an episode of Psych flitted through my head in the most terrifying way possible.

Sitting in the stark, barren room in the emergency psychiatric ward, I heard the frantic screams of another patient demanding her purse.

“You threw it out the window on Santa Fe,” a paramedic responded.

The other patient wouldn’t, or couldn’t, accept that, and grew angry, insisting on the return of her bag.

This was the latest in a string of tirades.

She had yelled about not being allowed to go home, over not having feminine pads, over her shoes, the list goes on and on. At one point, she had taken to hitting and throwing things at the staff, and had to be restrained, then proceeded to shout profanities for a good hour.

Here I was, in the next room, just trying to stay alive, feeling like I was being punished for doing the responsible thing and seeking help.

That first afternoon and night were terrifying. I sat alone in the most empty room I had ever seen, just a bed, chair, table, and the security camera. A guard sat outside my door. I had to ask to get water, or use the bathroom. I couldn’t use my phone, and all they gave me to do was a stack of children’s mazes, a crayon to fill them out with. Shortly before I left, they scrounged up a word search book.

Though the bathroom door had an 8″ gap at the bottom, I purged every meal. They either didn’t notice, or didn’t care.

After more than 24 hours in the ER ward, I was admitted to the regular psychiatric ward, or Three West (third floor, west wing).

More treatment updates

I went to the doctor this morning. I was threatened with hospitalization if I don’t get into treatment within the next week.

No pressure.

She is also worried about my heart. My potassium and iron are still low, and she’s concerned the laxatives and diet pills are putting too much strain on my heart.

I will admit, I’m a little worried. I had a friend die in September from bulimia. Her heart stopped.

When I got home from the doctor, I called the treatment center and spoke with the intake coordinator. I explained the whole long story to her, and she set up an intake evaluation for Wednesday morning. It can’t get here fast enough

I’m ready. I’m scared, but I’m ready. I want to recover. I want to get better. I just really hope my insurance doesn’t fight it.

My doctor was really frustrated with my insurance this morning. She mentioned how they won’t pay for things people need, then they get worse, then they end up having to pay anyway, but pay for more.

It’s true. If they hadn’t cut me off, I’d be 2 months into treatment right now. Maybe I would be doing way better. But now, they had to pay for a hospital stay, and instead of paying for the intensive outpatient they need to pay for partial hospitalization or inpatient.

In other news, one of my close friends started PHP today. I’m so proud of her!

More information on inpatient

I just got a call from the behavioral health guy. He called up my insurance and they want me to do the PHP at the eating disorder center where I was before, and stay in their housing, so I would have 24/7 support.

I’m ok with this. I would much rather do that than inpatient at a hospital. Plus, I already know the staff and am comfortable there.

I called them, and I go in next week for an intake evaluation. I’ll keep you updated as I know anything.

Inpatient?

So, my friend B picked me up this morning and took me to my behavioral health appointment. The appointment went ok, but he told me something I wasn’t expecting to hear.

“You have a severe eating disorder, and I think you need to do inpatient.”

First of all, I don’t think of my eating disorder as being “severe”. Yes, I clearly have a problem, but severe?

Second, inpatient? My treatment team at the ED center had wanted me to do partial hospitalization, but being told I need inpatient was hard for some reason.

Is my eating disorder really that bad? It doesn’t feel like it.

Also, I just don’t want to do inpatient. That would mean losing all my freedom, and having every sliver of normalcy I have at the moment stripped away. It would mean being told not only when and what and how much to eat for every meal, but where to be and what to be doing for every moment of every day.

However, when he asked me right out if I would do inpatient if he set it up, I said I would.

So, he is going to look into finding a placement for me and getting it approved by my insurance. All I have to do is wait for his call telling me when and where to go.

Someone (me) is a little bit (lot) nervous.