Locked up, Day 4

I didn't write much about this day. As I recall I was just so very anxious and nothing was helping. I started to realize that day that perhaps my ativan use for many years had resulted in tolerance.

I had an ok start to the day. I didn't feel like interacting with people and I felt like the anxiety was going to make my head explode, but I was getting used to that. The morning group, art therapy, which was the only one I liked, was cancelled. During that free time I emailed my boss to let her know that I didn't think I would be ready to return to work on the appointed date since I was going to be in the hospital longer than hoped for and I was really not doing well. I just wanted to know what the plan was, etc. About an hour later I checked my email and had something rather non-specific from her, and a 2nd email from HR about being sorry about my resignation, here were the details of my last paycheck, etc. Needless to say I panicked. Another patient got the nurse and after we talked a while and I had an ativan they brought me me cell phone to allow a private call. The doctor came in before that call was made and we talked about it too. We also increased my Seroquel yet again, to 500 mg. Finally I was able to call and it was a clerical error.

The "minor" error had me drugged enough to be pretty incapicitated most of the day and I had a very hard time coping. I had no interest in talking to the other patients. I know we had some sort of a therapy group that day but I don't think I participated much. There was also one of the very boring, let's read a worksheet groups about defense mechanisms or something.

After lunch the dietician came in and we had a horribly circular conversation about my not eating. I'd talk about how repulsive food was, she'd insist I try something that sounded awful. She refused to accept I wasn't eating because of the depression, that I had this problem long before I got to the hospital, and that I actually was trying my best to eat. She didn't get what I was saying.

By that evening I did at least participate in group without being forced. I think I volunteered a sentence even. I actually felt the smallest bit better, probably because I'd had more anxiety medication. I also had eaten some pudding, pretzels and a serving of cereal by the time I went to bed, which had to help.

I think that day 4 was when we were given the journals. I didn't actually write about things day to day for a few days after we got them. Mine starts with a list of close to 200 points I wanted to remember or think about. Eventually we'll get to those, at least the ones not covered already. I had a very hard time with the journals because they tell you up front that your room is searched daily and until I saw what a search involved I didn't want them to flip through and read about my thoughts on C., the nurse from hell. I may someday write a whole post on her, because she taught me a great deal about what I do not want to be as a healthcare provider.

That night I had a message that Dr. Brain had called when I was in group and said she'd try to email me. That email never came and I assume that is when whatever happened to her occurred. I still don't totally get why I couldn't be pulled from group for my doctor, but whatever. I just would have appreciated the reasurrance of her voice. But that just wasn't part of it I guesss.

And that's all I remember of that day.