Or at least not from The Side I had in mind on September 20th.
Allow me to explain.
September 28. My father’s birthday.
Or would have been, anyway. He’s been dead for a couple of decades now.
What’s ironic is that I spent his birthday in a psychiatric ward. About two weeks ago, my mental health started to decline and particularly after a very difficult session with my psychotherapist in Tuesday, Sept 17. After that, it was all downhill and I got to the bottom of the pit quite quickly.
By Friday, September 20, I became suicidal. Fortunately for me, I happened to be talking to a friend on Facebook due to the fact that she was organizing a fundraiser and I was donating an item for a silent auction.
She noticed something was not quite right and asked me about it. I lost it, told her I was suicidal and that I thought I ought to go to the hospital. That in fact, I was intending to go and admit myself as soon as our chat was over.
She immediately volunteered to drive me there. She asked me where I was thinking of going. I said the Royal. She said she thought the Royal didn’t have Emergency anymore. She told me to stay put, that she would find out for me and then take me there.
She called back five minutes later. Yes, indeed the Royal didn’t have an ER anymore and that I should go to the Ottawa Hospital, either the Civic Campus or the General Campus.
Knowing the General from my graduate shool days, I chose that one. Ten minutes later she was at my door. But while I waited for her, I published The Other Side.
Now, not only my friend drove me to the General, but she stayed with me all the time until I was admitted, even though she has trouble with hospitals.
By then, my mental health had deteriorated rapidly and my anxiety attack became a full on psychotic episode. I would have been lost without her. She also made sure my daughter knew what was going on.
Thus, the sedated me heavily for the next three days and I don’t remember anything at all – ok, very little, from that weekend.
Apparently, I said some really funny stuff during those days. Even to the point of calling my daughter Henry. Don’t ask.
So yeah, how ironic it is that I should spend my father’s birthday in a psychiatric ward when it was his doing that put me here?
However, I have been the recipient of a lot of love and support from people near and far.
The staff here at the Inpatient Mental Health Unit (nurses, doctors, students, orderlies, social workers, occupational therapists) are all very nice. They are not only very professional but also very compassionate and helpful. I’ve been treated with nothing but respect. I am sure the staff of the ER is too, only that I don’t remember any of my time there.
I have a whole team devoted to bringing me back to life. And I should say they are succeeding at it.
I guess if one must be hospitalized due to mental illness, the General is the place to go.
So, my friends, I can positively say that I am doing much better now.
I cannot say – However, I’m completely out of the pit thus far. September 10 was my mother’s birthday (probably when it all started). She died on October 15. I am not quite safe yet.
I’m in a two-week involuntary admission, which expires on October 6. I am not heavily sedated anymore – as you can see, but the medication still makes me very groggy.
However, I now have my laptop (YAY for little victories) and thus I can blog.
Thank you so much to everybody that has shown their support in however way possible. The doctor was impressed on Friday when I told her about my blog and about A Canvas Of The Mind. I told her the support of the blogging community was priceless. Like in for-everything-else-there’s-Mastercard kind of priceless.
And last but not least, a very special THANK YOU to two wonderful people in my life. First, my daughter, always the trooper, who not only had to add my workload to her already packed agenda but also managed to come spend time with me and make sure I didn’t lack anything, EVERY SINGLE DAY. And then, to my best friend and soul mate, who as soon as he found out I was in the hospital, jumped in his car and drove 10 hours to be with me!
I love you both very much.
Oh, and special mention to my daughter’s boyfriend, who took extra work so my daughter could come visit with me every day!
- The Other Side
- A eulogy 29 years in the making
- Father’s Day Musings
- Pilot project teaming police, psychiatrists made permanent (cbc.ca)