This past week has been a blur of actions and reactions and pieces of vague memories. I've been in hospital again aka The Funny Farm.
In a nutshell, this is what happened - I lost it, got myself certified and locked down in the locked down unit for a few days while they drugged me further out of my mind. Though the effects of the drugs suited my captors fine, as I became docile and less agitated.
My manager was amazing. She visited twice. Unfortunately the drugs had relaxed me so much that I spilt a lot of beans. Nothing devastating like I stole company secrets and sold it to the highest bidder or anything like that. Just simple truths about me and my relationship with my mother. Where did this come from you might be thinking? Well, two weeks ago my parents told me they were coming to visit me in April. I don't know if this triggered this breakdown, but I'm pretty sure V will think that it has at least partly to do with it.
V visited me too, while I was in there. I don't remember what we talked about. Maybe she'll tell me when I see her this afternoon.
I was discharged yesterday and I'm still off work today and will go back on Monday.
This whole episode was brief - as most of my episodes tend to be. But being locked down 24 hours in a small unit with 7-8 other psychotics feels like eternity. Actually, I think the unit can take up to 9 or 10 patients, but while I was there, there were only 5 of us with 3 nurses looking after us. I was the only female patient.
The TV was in a locked cabinet so no one except the nurses could change the channel. Which was annoying. Mostly the nurses dictated which channel we watched. Although there was one nurse by the name of Mun, who was really nice - he asked us what we wanted to watch. He said the TV was there for the patients, not for him. So I did catch bits of Lost that evening, but couldn't really follow everything because sharing a tiny space with 4 other unwell people was just too distracting.
I drank too much coffee. It was something to do. I paced a lot. My knuckles were badly bruised because I was punching at walls and windows when they were trying to bring me in. I remember a couple of nurses were trying to prevent me from doing all that. One particular female nurse, VB, was kind to me. It was that kindness that brought me round.
There was also another nurse on the ward who noticed I was slowly getting more agitated, and she talked me down and then drugged me further. That worked too.
Now I'm home, and trying to pick up the pieces. I had a peek into my work inbox and there are 155 emails waiting for me to deal with when I get back on Monday. Oh joy.