During July of this year I spent 3-4 days in hospital for a third episode of psychosis. It was my briefest stay yet and I'm happy to say, I feel as if I've now fully recovered.
My memory of those few days is rather sketchy, but I do remember a few specific incidents that I feel like writing about. One such incident was the time that three or four of us were sitting in the common lounge-type area on the couches, laughing our heads off at something. Whatever it was, it was really damn funny. The next thing someone nods in the direction over my shoulder and I turn to find a nurse hovering over me with medication - valium to be precise - in hand. Two pills for me to take immediately. I wondered what I had done that was so wrong that warranted sedation as I had been feeling just fine and after all, they say that laughter is the best medicine...
For the most part I found the staff to be kind, but so far removed from the actual treatment of patients in the main adult psych ward as to not assist or intervene when I thought it could have been useful. The set up or layout of the ward was such that the nurses and staff sat behind a glass wall that looked out into the main areas - a room with a pool table, the lounge area and a hallway. I referred to their station as the observation deck or fishbowl.
At one point, in order to get their assistance after repeated knocking to no avail (they could see me through the window but simply looked up at me and then went back to their writing), I took a poster off the wall and shoved it up against the glass. It was a picture of a lovely looking, kindly nurse with the words "Nurses are here to help you". I had been having a panic attack and felt in need of some medication to calm me down, and it was the only way I could manage to get their attention.
There were other times where I felt the need to talk to someone, or I felt that someone else needed assistance and I was continually ignored. Like for instance when I found a piece of glass on the carpet outside the fishbowl that could easily have been stepped on by someone with bare feet or just socks on. Or when I tried to draw attention to the spots of blood on the ground outside that I wasn't even sure actually existed. Or when Tony, the older guy-patient from Macedonia who spoke very little English was sleep walking. Or when Chris was crying outside the nurses station, due to the break up of a long term relationship, severe depression and a breakdown of sorts and could have benefited from the attention of staff.
Hospital these days is a last resort. Community treatment is the preferred method of dealing with mental illness and I think in part this explains some of the behaviour of the nurses/staff during my brief stay insofar as their policy is of getting people back to 'normality' as soon as possible and avoiding dependence on the system. To their credit, the majority of staff were friendly, caring and did their jobs well. At the hospital I stayed in at the very least. In comparison with my previous experiences in hospital (if it is indeed possible to compare), this time around has been the easiest.
No comments:
Post a Comment