(Note: This was also typed from Jess' handwritten notes. Still no computer. Typo's and punctuation still my fault. — Shane)
Today is my third day here. Thursday I was still high all day from the clonazepam, so I don?t remember much of what happened except for being very scared.
Yesterday as the day wore on I started to make friends with some of the people here. Every life has a very interesting story and every life is filled with sadness and joy and love and hate.
The night I was admitted a young boy named Jessie was also admitted. He was left in a locked surveillance room for the night and woke everyone up banging on the door screaming ??I want a shower!?? Over and over. They let him out to shower and then for some reason let him down stairs for a cigarette. He stole a wheelchair, rode it down the big hill to 7-11 and nobody has seen him since.
I am the only one on the ward not allowed outside. Escorted or not. This place is not a place to make you happy or feel better. I suppose it is what you might expect. Boring. We mostly stay in our rooms or sit around in a lounge-type area waiting for the television to be turned on at 3:30. We sit and talk sometimes about medications we are taking or joke about escape plans. We quietly discuss all the ways we have tried to kill ourselves, each scare a badge of honour. We sit and wonder what is going through Sarah?s head.
Sarah is our resident schizophrenic. She has been here since November 2005. She has good days and bad days. On good days she?s a lucid, intelligent lady who can tell you about the job she used to have as a biologist (etymology), how she volunteered in the community garden.
On other days like today she will start out fine and then all of a sudden come heavy footing down the hall with a hair band pulled over one eye pirate style with her glasses over top obsessing about something in the nurse?s station. She wanders around the glassed in, locked-tight office tapping lightly on every panel, starring up at a black plastic bag taped to one of the ceiling panels. She will wander the halls all day, doing this dance around the station with lots of ??fucks?? and ??fucking crazy people?? in between. Her crazy manic ranting getting louder until it reaches a roar at midnight when I suspect she finally passes out.
My two favorite people are Brendan and Jessica. He?s 19 and she?s 22. He came in after taking a massive overdose of some mood disorder medicine. He was in a coma for several weeks. He sleeps a lot and wakes up late. Then he sits in a chair in the lounge and talk to whoever happens by.
He?s now totally medication free. They don?t really know what is wrong with him, but his whole body is full of cuts and scars that he has self-inflicted. I haven?t seen anybody come and visit him. He hasn?t told me much about himself. He?s very interested in my iPod and I?m fairly sure he wants to steal it. I like him anyway. He?s got these gentle, sad eyes that speak to me. They speak to me of a sadness that nobody can make better and nobody can understand.
(Note: This was typed from Jess' handwritten notes. She still doesn't have her computer and wanted to make sure you knew I was responsible for the typo's and poor punctuation. — Shane)
I don't have a computer so the thought of writing a blog post out on a piece of paper to be transferred later seems rather daunting and kind of ass-backwards.
I am in the mental/psychiatric ward on a 48 hour hold, which they have already extended by another 48 hours, so I will be here until at least monday.
I saw my G.P. this morning and she actually let me have some clothes, no shoes. I really feel as if I have made a terrible mistake being here. I miss my children immensely and am worried about the toll this will take on them.
I have to earn privileges but I am not really sure how in a place where everybody scares me. People are divided into two groups; the elderly in dementia and younger people who sleep in video monitored rooms and are schizophrenic. Funnily enough I feel like an outcast in high school. I can tell there are chairs that people sit in, chairs that are "theirs". I am scared of upsetting someone and getting the crap beat out of me.
I have used up all my resources at home, as far as taking care of my kids. Soon there will be on one left there to watch them, as grandma dawn has to leave soon. Shane has to work. I want to go home and I am unsure how to make that happen. I want to see my children.
I have been here since 10pm wednesday on a 48 hour hold. After so many visits to doctors and emergencies and failed calls to crisis lines i was fed up.
On tuesday night afetr not being able to get through to the crisis line for an hour shane called an ambulance. At 4am the doctor released me with nary a worry that i had no ride home or way to get home. I sat alone in the waiting room begging every janitor and security guard for a quarter to call home.
Finally, i took a risk that my credit card would work and headed home in a taxi. By wednesday evening at 9pm i was huddled in the corner on the deck in tears, dreading and fearing the next day. We called a friend to come watch the kids and shane brought me into the hospital again. I was at the point where i could feel myself, without a doubt, in a crisis.
In the waiting room it is impossible to communicate a mental crisis to the triage nurse unless you have (a) overdosed or (b) say "i'm going to kill myself if you don't let me in there." I didn't do either and was placed in the chairs behind a long list of other people.
As time wore on something in my head, and i can't tell you exactly what, got incredibly tired of the back and forth of bad help, bad medicine and bad feelings. And i began to overdose on my clonazepam. I started taking them four at a time. I had this stupid idea (and if you are reading this and on the verge of suicide or have suicidal thoughts it was a really fucking stupid idea) that i would just take them until they took me into the back room. I guess it took awhile and i just appeared drunk. I don't really remember. I don't remember anything.
I remember waking up in the morning, on the psychiatric ward, no clothes, no shoes, no outside and a very angry psychiatrist who won't talk to me. He tried but i was still all woozy so he stormed out giving me no priviliedges till monday.
Shane just snuck in my laptop and i managed to find two lines of wireless in a back corner, but my nurse caught me with it and i fear it will be gone soon. Except the schizophrenic lady is having a really bad night and keeping everyone busy.
Thanks for all your thoughts,
jess
i am in the hospital, see you soon.
jess
xxoo
Wow. Making me think. Here's the questions answered (ones sent privately don't count – sorry.)
1.if you could be anything, what would it be? ANYTHING!????!???
I'd be marmalade the cat. Chase a few mice. Get a few scratches and tummy rubs. Eat whenever i ask. Sleep whenever i want.
Or, i'd be a politician. But, from experience, it's much easier to dream of change than to actually make change happen.
2.If you could live anywhere, where would that be?
Right around here. But, down the road a few miles right on the Lake with, at least, 25 acres. I would have more cats, more dogs, more chickens, a donkey and a jersey cow. I would swim every single day in the summer and i would skate in the winter. I would have a huge vegetable garden. My house would also come with housecleaners.
3.If you could choose between being invisible for a day, or being rich ($100,000 in your pocket) for a day, which would you choose and why?
I thought about this one all day. But in the end i'd have to go for the money. I'd be too scared to hear or see something i didn't want to if i was invisible. Kind of like the internet. If i had $100,000 i'd pay off my credit cards, i'd pay tuition for a year and speech therapy for a year and i would go on a vacation with my whole family that didn't involve tents or no showers. I would also give mike some money.
4.Do you like girls?
You silly. Of course. I have two daughters.
Oh. Wait. You mean like. Well, i was a women's studies major. Let's just say i've dipped my toes in that pool and though i would like to say never say never – i am a married woman.
5.What was your favorite thing to do when you were 6 years old?
My very favourite thing to do when i was six was bake with my mom. I had my own mini tart tins and cooking tools. I fondly remember sitting with my mom in our kitchen making jam tarts, punching down bread dough, rolling pastry. I loved each and every moment i spent alone with her in our kitchen covered in flour.
6.What is your favorite activity to do alone?
Sit in the school when it is empty and type. Write my novel. I like being here in the evening, knowing, and feeling, the immense energy that fills it all day. Feeling the remnants of that and the anticipation of the next school day. Yet it is quiet and calm and dark and all i can hear are the frogs in the pond next door. Plus the school is 100 years old and i like to sit in the dark and picture all the lives that have danced and laughed in these hallways.
7.are you still raising chickens?!?
Well, my chickens were all killed by a cougar. We still have one wild chicken living in the trees. We are, tomorrow actually, going to pick up 5 brahma pullets, 5 old english pullets and one of each rooster. I am going for the small chickens this year. I have missed them, but they are dirty and gross too. I really miss Stanley. He seems to have been reincarnated in Marmalade the kitty – who also thinks he's a dog.
8.Favourite memory from 1997?
June 7, 1997, 1:18a.m.
Tristan Thea Sparks born via forceps.
9.What's your favoritest music album of all time?
Impossible question.
Ten favourite bands?
The Shins
Wolf Parade
Jawbreaker
Sebadoh
Buzzcocks
The Police
Modest Mouse
Matthew Sweet
The Clash
The Cure
10. Who was the first guy you ever kissed, and what was it like?
His name was Kevin. He was a singer in a band. I was in grade 9, he was in grade 12. He sang "I'll Melt With You." It was my first love. It was amazing and still fills me with such happiness. But he broke up with me after three short weeks. I was heartbroken. I've never let anyone break up with me since.