WTF?
I went to the hospital. They kept me overnight; still sleep escaped me as I was in a strange place and everything on my mind. I did get 3 1/2 hours; which is more then I have got in a row in months unless I was pass out drunk. Since I am still sober and want to stay that way, that is not an option. They had to give me two Ambien for me to get that much sleep and I am only 112 pounds. Should have put me out for at least 8 hours.
Anyways last night they told me that they had a bed at MUSC that would available today. When I woke today, the bed was no longer available, huh? So they found a bed at a place call Crisis Center. They failed to tell me it was a shelter; which I don't need. (I have family, a church and friends if I really need a place to go) About 5 pm these two ladies show up to pick me up. Mind you I am in a long nightgown and slippers. As we are walking out to the car they are transporting me in, they start asking questions about any previous Department of Mental Health care that I may have received. since I have never used them I told them there was none. They said that that was awful hard to believe since they had record of someone with my same birthdate and SSN received service in 93. I had services for my son and since I took him and was the adult, I had to give my information. Then they start asking me where I got the valium that was found in my system and about the pot I smoked the day I was admitted. I answered there questions and stated that I had only been off pot for about 14 days and knew it would show. They basically called me a liar. Then they told me that this place was for current issues, not 30 years worth of baggage. I told them to take me back to the hospital. At this point they began talking between themselves as if I were absent or deaf. They were discussing there day and then said, "And now we have this white girl giving us a hard time." I am proud to be a Cherokee and I am far from being a girl anymore. They pulled up at the hospital and the driver told the passenger, "Let her out." They dropped me off, dressed as I was outside the emergency room door.
I don't like to complain. The room at the hospital was filthy, blood on walls and floors. The tag on the bed said it was cleaned on 4/29/06. Then the way I was treated by the so called help I was receiving, I may just have to complain and my Momma is ready to see heads roll. (In this process they told me they couldn't recommend another hospital, like MUSC; huh?)
When I went back in the hospital and told them all this with my Momma, they had me sign a hand-written promisary note that said I wouldn't kill myself or anyone else before I sought treatment tomorrow without calling 911 and coming back to them. Like I was planning on hurting myself or someone else, I only wanted help with this depression. Like I would want to go back to them anyways. I will go get help somewhere else tomorrow, but I feel like the place I went was only interested in covering their own asses from a lawsuit.
Not only do I hate myself, I really am beginning to hate SC and regret coming back from Tampa.
Anyways last night they told me that they had a bed at MUSC that would available today. When I woke today, the bed was no longer available, huh? So they found a bed at a place call Crisis Center. They failed to tell me it was a shelter; which I don't need. (I have family, a church and friends if I really need a place to go) About 5 pm these two ladies show up to pick me up. Mind you I am in a long nightgown and slippers. As we are walking out to the car they are transporting me in, they start asking questions about any previous Department of Mental Health care that I may have received. since I have never used them I told them there was none. They said that that was awful hard to believe since they had record of someone with my same birthdate and SSN received service in 93. I had services for my son and since I took him and was the adult, I had to give my information. Then they start asking me where I got the valium that was found in my system and about the pot I smoked the day I was admitted. I answered there questions and stated that I had only been off pot for about 14 days and knew it would show. They basically called me a liar. Then they told me that this place was for current issues, not 30 years worth of baggage. I told them to take me back to the hospital. At this point they began talking between themselves as if I were absent or deaf. They were discussing there day and then said, "And now we have this white girl giving us a hard time." I am proud to be a Cherokee and I am far from being a girl anymore. They pulled up at the hospital and the driver told the passenger, "Let her out." They dropped me off, dressed as I was outside the emergency room door.
I don't like to complain. The room at the hospital was filthy, blood on walls and floors. The tag on the bed said it was cleaned on 4/29/06. Then the way I was treated by the so called help I was receiving, I may just have to complain and my Momma is ready to see heads roll. (In this process they told me they couldn't recommend another hospital, like MUSC; huh?)
When I went back in the hospital and told them all this with my Momma, they had me sign a hand-written promisary note that said I wouldn't kill myself or anyone else before I sought treatment tomorrow without calling 911 and coming back to them. Like I was planning on hurting myself or someone else, I only wanted help with this depression. Like I would want to go back to them anyways. I will go get help somewhere else tomorrow, but I feel like the place I went was only interested in covering their own asses from a lawsuit.
Not only do I hate myself, I really am beginning to hate SC and regret coming back from Tampa.
posted by lifemundane at 6:45 PM
1 Comments:
At least you're trying. Not EVERYone in the mental health system over there is going to be a freaking whackjob. Keep at it. Get yourself better, back to the laughing girl, okay?
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