I was so irate by the time the ambulance arrived at the hospital that the medical staff had to tranquilise me to get me to calm down. I have very blurry memories during those first few days in the Intensive Psychiatric Care Unit (IPCU). I remember being absolutely terrified, all my senses heightened and everything feeling much worse than the reality of my situation. The use of force made me feel brutalised, tortured.

 

I tried to focus on what I knew to be good and true such as: God is good and God is love; Jesus saves; my name and address. I felt that if I didn't say these statements and words aloud or in my head in a certain sequence and frequency, I would be spinning completely out of control and fear and death would consume me. It felt like a constant near-death experience. Again, it was like I was living in a completely different dimension.  

 

I was losing my mind and I had no clue. It still amazes me that the mind is capable of betraying me so much. It all felt so real!

 

On one of my first days in the hospital when I was still very psychotic and drugged, I thought one of the nurses was ‘Lucifer’ (aka Satan). Apparently I bit the nurse quite hard as they were trying to hold me down to tranquilise me. Several days later, I learned of what I did to him and went up to apologise. He quickly responded, “It’s okay, you were unwell.” How quick he was to forgive! I was still unaware of how unwell I was but even then, I was humbled by this nurse’s acceptance of my condition and the grace he extended to me. He treated me like a real person, choosing not define me by my illness.

 

My mom and sister arrived at the hospital the day after I was admitted and my dad followed a couple days later. Even with all the drugs in my system, I was able to show ‘glimpses’ that I was still ‘me’ despite being and feeling so lost in my own mind. This gave my family hope.

 

I felt guilty that my family had sacrificed so much to look after me, especially my husband, Corey. I really put him through the wringer and did such scary, embarrassing, and degrading things that should have pushed him far, far away.

 

I could see fear and exhaustion in his eyes. Yet there he was, sitting in front of me in the IPCU with his notepad, taking down a list of things that I would like from home: my favourite clothes (fortunately we didn’t have to wear hospital gowns like I pictured in the movies), our Cowboys blanket, my favourite perfume, etc. The next day he would return, even more exhausted, but with my requested items that would bring me some comfort and familiarity.

 

Corey was on Skype calls every evening with family back in the States and talking with Doctors and Pharmacists about the best course of action and which medications are the best/safest. I felt so guilty and ashamed at first for how I behaved and the negative effect I was having on him. I apologised profusely at first but eventually accepted the fact that he wasn’t going anywhere. His faithfulness and persistence with me (even when I was being super annoying) helped to carry me through each day and lift me slowly out of my nightmare.

 

Even though the hospital wasn’t exactly a warm and fuzzy place to call home, I do have some fond memories. As I became more aware of my environment and less self-focused, I got to know the medical staff better, and made friends with the other patients. I felt that in order to combat the heaviness of that place, we could all benefit from more smiles and laughter. We (the patients) would brush each other's hair, have dance parties, sing, tell jokes, and play games. Never a dull moment (in my mind at least)! My mom remembers me saying, “"It's great...I can be as crazy as I want and no one cares!"

 

The illness still had a grip on me but I was beginning to feel more myself and then realise how unwell I actually was. I became well enough to be transferred out of the IPCU and into the Meadows Ward, which was a stepping stone to being released (I was sectioned under the 28 day Mental Health Act so could be held there against my will for at least that long). I was determined to get home sooner if possible.

 

It became my mission to get healthy again which involved: listening to the Doctors and nurses, trusting that they had my best interests in mind; taking my medication (Olanzapine, an anti-psychotic, and Lithium, a mood stabilizer); eating healthily; getting exercise and fresh air; continued laughter; keeping a routine and being organised; getting plenty of sleep; relaxation (i.e. bubble baths, stretching, deep breathing); visits from family, friends, and my pastor; and lots and lots of prayer.

 

I was grateful to be in an environment where I could have the time to recover. On the twentieth day of being in the hospital, I was released! It was weird just walking out the front door with my family and not having to sign anything, and pay a massive copay or medical bill. Thank you, National Health Service (NHS)! It’s not a perfect system but I was grateful to receive help I needed for that time.

 

 

Update on My Mental Health Project

 

I still can’t believe the half marathon is tomorrow! I have never ran 13 miles before and even though I have trained, I still feel nervous. Won’t let that hold me back though! Stay tuned for more updates and for race day pics… there’s a surprise that may or may not include the colour green, which happens to be the colour representing mental health awareness! J

 

I went back to visit the hospital again this week to update the nurses I talked to last month about my mental health project. They are encouraged and excited! In addition to art supplies and exercise mats, they are in need of ‘welcome packs’ for the patients when they first arrive at the hospital, containing some essentials (toothpaste, toothbrush, soap, etc.).

 

These ‘welcome packs’ will now be added to the list of supplies I will be buying from the hospital and I will use any money raised from this day onward to purchase the packs, unless specified by the donor. Please join me in my effort and make a donation to help provide these things for patients dealing with difficulties of mental illness at the Royal Edinburgh Hospital.

  

Next post: The Aftermath