In-Patient Hospital Stays

One of my readers asked me to explain more about my in-patient hospital stays.  They stressed the fact that I had previously discussed having stayed in psychiatric wards for a week at a time.  And they requested to better understand my experience during those hospital visits.  

This topic of conversation is very close to my heart and therefore very deep in my soul.  So, I will first say that sharing my experience with all of you is very important to me.  Yet, I will also admit that it is very hard for me to explain these times in my life where I felt so much despair.  

My stays in "psych wards" were very unique experiences.  Each day, we had a morning meeting at 9am and an afternoon meeting at 4pm.  We met in a common area with a nurse who guided the discussion.  We went around in a circle and talked about how we were feeling that day.  We shared one positive and one negative thought.  

Every day at 8:30am, we were called to stand in line for the nurses to administer our medication.  We were handed a small cup with our medicine in one hand and a cup with water in the other hand.  Upon taking our meds, we had to open our mouth and show the nurses that we had, in fact, swallowed them.  

We were served 3 meals per day including breakfast, lunch and dinner.  There were no butter knives, and all food could be broken up with a plastic fork or spoon.  And when we were finished eating, we had to show the food-service coordinator our plate, fork and spoon before throwing it into the trashcan.  Nothing was to be taken out of the dining area.  

I met with my Psychiatrist and Social Worker twice during the week to discuss and adjust my medications.  And I was allowed exactly one phone call per day.  A small journal was provided for me to write down my thoughts.

There was no jewelry and no elastic nor pockets on clothing.  Nothing was allowed to be hidden, so as to eliminate the potential for a patient to harm either themselves or someone else.  Visiting hours were every other day 5pm-7pm.  

The quote at the top of this post explains that even butterflies rest when it rains, and yet when the storm passes they fly again.  During the darkness of the days in the hospital, I did everything I could to find hope.  I colored, I did puzzles, I listened to music, and I painted in the arts and crafts room.  I read books to quiet my mind and allow my brain to drift into the pages of the story.  And I made friends so that we could help each other get through the worst of times.  

When it was over and my doctors deemed me well enough to go home, I knew the storm had passed.  I would gradually ease my way back into my life one moment at a time.  And when I was ready, I always spread my wings like a butterfly and yet again, I would fly.  

Love Note: With all my heart, I genuinely request that due to the content written, please seek the guidance of professional help should you feel you need it.