30 hours in a fishbowl

“There are enough red flags on your chart for me to want to put a hold on you”.

This came after a two-minute interview with a mental health professional tasked with triaging ER psych admits. What to do with the afflicted.

Two minutes. I watched her walk around for another hour. I asked sever times to talk to her again. Watched her leave without a word.

(times rounded to nearest hour for my convenience)

That was at eight am, seven hours after I arrived. Seventy-Two minus eight equals sixty-four. I started counting.

The wheels were in motion. I was to be transferred from this, a medical facility ER, to a mental health facility for observation, as soon as one could be found that would accept me. “A Bed” is the jargon. “As soon as we find you a bed”. Didn’t sound bad, since I had no choice. OK then, let’s go!

I had already enjoyed a breakfast of cool, watery scrambled eggs, cold sausage and bacon, compote with lots of rind before her, the doctors visit. Did not help the meal settle. I was however not hungry so wanted to be on my way.

The room I was in is about eight feet by 12 feet, brown speckled linoleum floor, medium beige color walls. Think a dirty dune beige.  A sink, trash can, medical stuff on walls, bed in the center. One wall is two very large sliding glass doors. Directly across from this glass wall in the nurses station. All those people looking in made me think, “So, this is what fish must feel like”.

I was being watched, closely too. Five-two or three, blonde, burgundy scrubs, an element sweat zip-up hoody, fit, cute. Not a nurse, a patient services technician, assistant or something like that. A nursing student working her way through school.

Her job: watch me. I am dangerous. More precisely, “a danger” to myself and or others. To prevent this from happening, this danger thing, I am watched.

I’ve referred to her as my handler when talking or texting people. My non-stop supervision. Only time she is not with me is in the bathroom. Even then she is right outside the door unlocked door. Her last words each time I go in have been, “Don’t do anything silly”! Like attempt suicide or an escape with a urine sample cup!

Around ten am I ask for an update on my status.  Waiting for a bed to come open.

TV. I do not have TV at home. I have one but it is not connected to any source that will allow in to catch, process, display an outside signal. Cable, Satellite are much to expensive a luxury for me. Since I had no place to go, was in a hospital gown, not allowed to leave the room really, TV was a blessing.

The Food Network, Myth Busters marathon and just what I need, Romantic Comedies galore! Matthew McConauhey is in better shape, much better looking than I but I could still do what he does. No one would watch but, I could do it.

Around eleven am they begin to realize I am not that much of a threat to me or anyone else. They give me my phone in stead of continually handing it to me and then taking back after each call or text.

One pm, clean socks, underwear, phone charger, notebook and pen delivered. Still on the same page as to my level of dangerousness (a word? wow!) they leave the charger plugged in and let me keep the notebook and pen. However, they do not allow me to see the person that delivered these things.  Probably for the best at this time. The last time we were together things did not go so well.

I ask again when I am going to be transferred. “They are waiting for a bed to open up”.

All this time I have been in the fish bowl with my handler the place is busy. Really busy. Full moon nut-job busy! Sure, regular stuff, a broken hip on senior, a torn ear on kid, a broken arm, another senior having trouble breathing, some drunks and an OD.  I am watching, listening to all this while texting and stressing over the financial impact of this little adventure.

There have been several opportunities to laugh and a few to cry.

Four pm. I’ve been in boxer-briefs and this blue backless fashion statement hospital gown for fifteen hours. Kinda liberating, kinda funky. My phone is on the charger. Lunch was chicken soup, steamed broccoli, come yellow pudding like stuff and cranberry juice. (It’s funny how many people I texted or talked to that asked if I was being fed! As if I was the victim of a kidnapping or something diabolical. Chained to a wall and deprived of food and water. Silly. I’m in a HOSPITAL!)

You’ve Got Mail is on TV. Myth-busters marathon channel lost sound for some reason. Sigh. Romantic Comedies are killing me.

Six pm. My new handler arrives at same time as dinner. The same description as first except brunette. Dinner is roast  beef, mashed potatoes w/gravy, steamed carrots and apple juice. Not bad either. Small portion for me but I am a pig.

Also now in my possession is a deck of cards! YIPPEE! This comes as a thrill to me but only of mild interest to my handler. Her interest waxes as she manages to spank me in rummy winning 11 of 15 hands. I went to pee and put the cards away on my return, without comment.

Eight-thirty pm and my night nurse (not to be confused with my handler) comes to say hi. She’s been on shift since six pm. She was the first person I talked to that morning at one am when I arrived. She said I scared her. I apologized.  She then told me I would be transferred, “as soon as they find you an open bed”. I told her mine was open at home. I promised to stay in my room for the remaining fifty-two hours.  She didn’t get it but my handler laughed a bit.

Ten pm (twenty-one hours here) and I try to sleep but can’t. Freaking out over what this is costing. Texting with the other half of this mess. Eleven pm phone call and I am shattered. Crying, completely hopeless.

Eleven-fifteen and my misery is interrupted by “I NEED TO GO TO THE BATHROOM”! “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME”! “YOU ARE THE UGLIEST PIG I HAVE EVER SEEN”! This continued with variations of some themes but the bathroom one lasted until he went.  There was some staff participation and lots of attention. My handler closed my door and stationed herself outside, between the fishbowl door and me. After an hour and for or five times of telling him his shoulder was indeed NOT broken, X-rays to prove it, he was not only let go but rather, escorted out! Damn near pushed through the automatic doors!

I’ve been here for twenty-three hours now. I am entertaining myself by trying to guess my vital signs, blood pressure, pulse, temperature, that are being recorded every two hours. After twelve hours they removed the IV catheter in my forearm. It was pretty obvious by then that the need to administer medication to me would not be a struggle. In fact, I was not given any medication at all besides my regular prescribed meds that were also delivered with phone charger. I had even asked for some ibuprofen for back after being in that dang bed for so long. Nothing doing since I did not have a doctor to OK it!

Three am I wake up to screaming child. Nurse: “If you take this you will feel better”! Child: ” I DON’T WANT TO FEEL BETTER”! Amen little brother. Amen

Five am. Twenty-eight hours have passed and my handler and I get crazy wild, check my vital signs on right arm while I lay on my left side! The excitement is palpable. Really it is.

Six am and the blonde handler returns, bringing me a cup of coffee. I’ve drunk a lot of coffee. Only now did I find out it has been decaf all along. Bastards.  At least it is coffee of some kind.

Six-thirty and my handler says goodbye, good luck, hang in there, it was nice to meet you and is off and gone. I am it seems, no longer a danger. I have also heard the words transfer paperwork three times now.

Seven am my nurse, one I have not met yet, comes to tell me they found a bed and I am going to be leaving “soon”.

Seven-fifteen and one of the ambulance crew (turns out later to be the driver) comes in, asked me who I am, confirms who I am and has me sign a form saying I am who I am. She says, “I’ll be right back” and is off.

My therapist arrives and passes attendant on the way out. Security had already told me she was there, asked if I wanted to see her and, how did she know I was there. Uhm, my therapist, you have me in isolation/observation! I called her, how do you think she knew?! Under the circumstances you would think they would be happy she was there instead of suspicious!

Seven-forty five my therapist leaves to keep an early appointment. Had even brought cash for me for when I needed a cab from next facility back home. What an amazing person.

Eight am and the EMT’s return. I have to ride in/on the gurney from my bed to ambulance than from there into new facility. It’s a rule. Just like the one that said I could not do my time at home in my bed.

I am very excited and mention to the nurse in charge how cool it was to do the first thirty-one of seventy-two in there with them. That is when I was in formed that my hours there did not count. Wrong bed. This uncomfortable freaking thing I had laid in for 31 hours was the wrong kind of bed. It is a medical bed. I need a mental health bed.

I was very close to picking up some new, extra hours right then but thought better of it. I had been texting and talking on phone and had just talked with therapist. All I could do was breath and go along for the ride. Accept I had fucked myself really, really well.

As the doors close on the ambulance they tell me forty-five minutes or so depending on traffic. This too is the wrong kind of bed. After thirty-one hours almost to the exact minute, I am starting off with negative hours. I am going North in a freaky kind of time travel thing.

Up next, the right kind of bed. Will tell you about that  when I know about it.