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Your own best advocate
I believe I was wrongfully committed to a psychiatric ward for a panic attack. I was not suicidal, I did not have suicidal ideation, I had not thought of harming myself or others. But yes, I was having a panic attack on a pedestrian sidewalk on a bridge and the cops were called.
I spent the worst week of my life in a psych ward where they didn’t fed me for 24 hours, I didn’t have my clothes for 17 hours, and I didn’t get my medications for Lupus and Anti-phospholipid syndrome (APS) for 4 days which is extremely dangerous. I had men break out in fights next to me and women throw cups of their piss at me.
The doctors wanted to put me on lithium. I declined and told them they were not going to change my meds because I had a panic attack. I also told them they weren’t going to put me on the oldest 1970’s bipolar drug that would destroy my kidneys when I have LUPUS.
They blew out all my views trying to draw blood because my INR got so low. They gave me FOUR lovenox shots a day and I’m still bruised around my stomach.
No one would listen to me about my Beck Depression Scale. I was continually rated as worse than I actually felt. I was recorded to be “noncompliant” and “uncooperative” in group settings. All false. I knew I had to work the program. I knew I had to participate. I was always friendly and polite and was Med-compliant (when they did administer my medications). The gaslighting and trauma I endured was worse than the panic attack that lead me there.
I went before a judge along with my husband and my mom, we had my outpatient counselor and my psychiatrist appointments lined up and 24/7 care set up for me at home. I calmly stated my case that I was not supposed to be at this hospital and that I wanted to leave the hospital Against Medical Advice, that I was not a risk to myself or others. I had been compliant, I had been cooperative, I had been participating. I had been denied.
He gave me another week.
My social worker ended the call and immediately said that she would ask for an early release from the doctor for the following day. I had photoshoots to attend later on in the week, I had my husband, and my beloved dog to return to.
The following day my social worker told me I would be going home at 11 am. I was ecstatic, she had done it. I immediately called my mom and told her the good news and what time to pick me up. As soon as I hung up the phone, my social worker called me back up to the nurses station.
“I’m sorry. You’re not going home today.”
I was shocked. I had just signed all the paperwork I had just filled out the exit survey. I had done everything to leave.
“What do you mean? I just filled out the paperwork!”
“I know. They made me shred it.”
Apparently, in the time that it took for me to call my mom, the doctor had come down and told the hospital psychiatrist and social worker that I needed to stay- no reason given.
I was livid. But I kept my emotions in check, the last thing I needed was a breakdown and a reason for them to keep me longer.
By some miracle, my social worker did get me released later that evening.
I have nightmares now. My bruises haven’t healed in over a week. I see my outpatient counselor weekly. I AM getting well.
No thanks to the system.
#MentalHealth #Bipolar1 #ChronicIllness #Lupus
