project_icarus
February 29th, 2012, 04:50 AM
Why?
Sorry this is rather long.
Yesterday was a pretty fucked up day. Yesterday, during an after-school counselling session, at around 4:15PM, I had what seemed like a seizure. My school decided to call an ambo (paramedics, ambulances etc. = ambo). When the ambos arrived, they did all their procedural crap, which includes taking my blood pressure. Knowing my luck, the ambo rolled up my sleeve to take my blood pressure on my arm, which is covered, in cuts and scars. He was a very nice person, except he kept pestering me about it, as I was seizing. I was, again, rushed to PMH. I arrived at PMH at around 4:20PM. They took me straight into ED (A&E, ER).
They put me in the ED, and just kept me there. The ED Nurse, who saw me a few times, just took observations, and making me feel so uncomfortable just prodding around my cuts, my arms, asking me, the same questions, again. The ED Doctor, again, asked me more questions. She asked me if I was going to kill myself. I answered honestly, ‘Yes.’ I had a bunch of medication ready-to-go at home, when I got home.
In the ED, there was this Aboriginal boy, about ten years old, saw me just lying there. He saw me, having body tremors; he just looked at me, and asked ‘Are you okay?’ I was having trouble getting words out. I just let out a quick ‘Yeah’.
My mum came in after a while. I’m really, really uncomfortable with her. I regret her ever finding out about my SH. I kept practically begging her to go away. Being her stubborn, ignorant, inconsiderate self, she stayed. As much as I pleaded for her to go away, she just sat there. After a while, Nicole, my sister, who had just came in from being with her boyfriend, got my mum to leave. I felt bad, guilty I guess. Nicole had just come from celebrating her anniversary with her boyfriend.
I laid on the bed in the ED. Nobody seemed to give a crap. Weak ol’ me broke down. Nurses, Doctors, Orderlies all even came into my ED cubicle, like they didn’t even notice I was there.
By the time the Psych Nurse got to me, my mum was back with me. As she ignored my pleads to go away, the Psych Nurse asked her to go. He discussed my depression, anxiety, and being suicidal. Not only did he ask the same questions I’d already answered a thousand times that night, but he kept asking them, to get nothing but the same answer. He concluded that I wasn’t safe to go home, that he had to admit me to 4H. The Psychiatric Ward.
I got there a little past 10PM. I was annoyed that not only did I have to spend the night at hospital, for the second time this year, for the same reason, but also that I had to spend it in 4H.
I was bored as hell. I didn’t just not sleep; I didn’t have access to anything. Not even some kind of company.
After a while I had a nosebleed. I got up, and when I got to my door, there was this little boy (mentally ill) that was standing outside my door. I opened my door, to find him staring at me. That made me just a tad uncomfortable.
I got out of bed at around 9, 10AM. The others in the ward had already eaten, and had the PMH schooling.
I saw a Psychiatrist, just before lunch, to discuss what was going on. It was a rather light conversation. I had a bit of a laugh I guess, I couldn’t help it, and I just cracked up laughing as the fire alarms go berserk. I really just didn’t want to be there. I tried to make the Psychiatrist think I was all good. It worked.
The day had passed. The Psychiatrist and Ward Manager both said I was safe to go home and could be discharged. My mum, however, had other ideas. She was almost yelling at the Ward Manager to keep me in. The three of them just acted as if I wasn’t there.
Here I am, typing this up. I wish things could just stop. Everything to just stop. But they can’t. I’ve been hoping, keeping hope, for nine years now. It’s time I just let it all go, and end it.
Not that I’d be ending anything much anyway. It would make so many people’s lives so much easier. I honestly don’t see the point at all. It’s hard, and too many people don’t realise it’s too hard to keep a positive like mindset.
Sorry this is rather long.
Yesterday was a pretty fucked up day. Yesterday, during an after-school counselling session, at around 4:15PM, I had what seemed like a seizure. My school decided to call an ambo (paramedics, ambulances etc. = ambo). When the ambos arrived, they did all their procedural crap, which includes taking my blood pressure. Knowing my luck, the ambo rolled up my sleeve to take my blood pressure on my arm, which is covered, in cuts and scars. He was a very nice person, except he kept pestering me about it, as I was seizing. I was, again, rushed to PMH. I arrived at PMH at around 4:20PM. They took me straight into ED (A&E, ER).
They put me in the ED, and just kept me there. The ED Nurse, who saw me a few times, just took observations, and making me feel so uncomfortable just prodding around my cuts, my arms, asking me, the same questions, again. The ED Doctor, again, asked me more questions. She asked me if I was going to kill myself. I answered honestly, ‘Yes.’ I had a bunch of medication ready-to-go at home, when I got home.
In the ED, there was this Aboriginal boy, about ten years old, saw me just lying there. He saw me, having body tremors; he just looked at me, and asked ‘Are you okay?’ I was having trouble getting words out. I just let out a quick ‘Yeah’.
My mum came in after a while. I’m really, really uncomfortable with her. I regret her ever finding out about my SH. I kept practically begging her to go away. Being her stubborn, ignorant, inconsiderate self, she stayed. As much as I pleaded for her to go away, she just sat there. After a while, Nicole, my sister, who had just came in from being with her boyfriend, got my mum to leave. I felt bad, guilty I guess. Nicole had just come from celebrating her anniversary with her boyfriend.
I laid on the bed in the ED. Nobody seemed to give a crap. Weak ol’ me broke down. Nurses, Doctors, Orderlies all even came into my ED cubicle, like they didn’t even notice I was there.
By the time the Psych Nurse got to me, my mum was back with me. As she ignored my pleads to go away, the Psych Nurse asked her to go. He discussed my depression, anxiety, and being suicidal. Not only did he ask the same questions I’d already answered a thousand times that night, but he kept asking them, to get nothing but the same answer. He concluded that I wasn’t safe to go home, that he had to admit me to 4H. The Psychiatric Ward.
I got there a little past 10PM. I was annoyed that not only did I have to spend the night at hospital, for the second time this year, for the same reason, but also that I had to spend it in 4H.
I was bored as hell. I didn’t just not sleep; I didn’t have access to anything. Not even some kind of company.
After a while I had a nosebleed. I got up, and when I got to my door, there was this little boy (mentally ill) that was standing outside my door. I opened my door, to find him staring at me. That made me just a tad uncomfortable.
I got out of bed at around 9, 10AM. The others in the ward had already eaten, and had the PMH schooling.
I saw a Psychiatrist, just before lunch, to discuss what was going on. It was a rather light conversation. I had a bit of a laugh I guess, I couldn’t help it, and I just cracked up laughing as the fire alarms go berserk. I really just didn’t want to be there. I tried to make the Psychiatrist think I was all good. It worked.
The day had passed. The Psychiatrist and Ward Manager both said I was safe to go home and could be discharged. My mum, however, had other ideas. She was almost yelling at the Ward Manager to keep me in. The three of them just acted as if I wasn’t there.
Here I am, typing this up. I wish things could just stop. Everything to just stop. But they can’t. I’ve been hoping, keeping hope, for nine years now. It’s time I just let it all go, and end it.
Not that I’d be ending anything much anyway. It would make so many people’s lives so much easier. I honestly don’t see the point at all. It’s hard, and too many people don’t realise it’s too hard to keep a positive like mindset.