I stopped by urgent care today. I don’t think I really needed to go but a friend kept telling me I should so finally I relented. My psychiatrist wanted to try me on a new medication that I just started taking on Friday. Friday night was fine, maybe I didn’t have much of it in my system yet, but Saturday night was a different story. He did warn me that the medication would make me very sleepy, but I didn’t quite expect what happened. I woke up in the middle of the night, which is normal for me, to go to the bathroom. As I stood up to walk back to my room, I felt very light-headed and knew that I was going to faint. I have fainted a handful of times in my life, and have gotten good at knowing when it’s coming on and how to prevent it. But this was different. I think the term blacking out is a better description than fainting, even though I know they are often used synonymously. What was happening felt like some cross between a ketamine infusion and a dream and reality. It was as if everything was happening in slow motion, and I knew I was going to fall and hit my head, but I was unable to stop it. I think I hit the toilet and maybe the little table that’s in there, and eventually rolled to the floor. I have no idea how long I stayed there, or whether I woke after falling and then just fell asleep on the floor or if when I woke up to find myself on the cold cement floor before getting back in bed that that was the first time I was waking. It felt like I had been down there for about 20 minutes, but who really knows. The next morning I had a pounding headache and when I looked in the mirror discovered a big egg on my forehead and scrapes down my nose and on one cheek. So surreal to have these “injuries”, though minor, and not really know exactly how I got them.

I didn’t think much of it though and went about my day. I had a great time with my kiddos playing games, making a fort, cuddling and reading together, putting more ornaments on our tree, finishing up some Christmas gifts we’ve been making, and visiting with my brother and a friend. When my friend first saw me she noticed my egg-head right away and when I mentioned my headache she seemed concerned. She encouraged me to go get checked out the next morning and I said maybe, but assumed I’d feel better the next day and there wouldn’t be a need. That was wrong. All day today I have still had a pounding headache, and the swelling of the egg moved downward toward my eyebrow, making it look more like a puffy fried egg than a hard-boiled one. And when 2 more friends expressed concern and encouraged me to get checked out, along with warnings of brain bleeds, I decided to make a stop at Convenient MD, since I was driving right past. But just pulling into the parking lot made me nervous. Memories of my hospital visits from a year ago came flooding back. And they are not good memories. The last time I was in the hospital I went to the ER for a non-psych issue and still they recommended I voluntarily admit myself to an inpatient unit. I am terrified of that happening again. Yes I am a thousand times better than I was then, but the staff seems to stick to protocols and standards rather than actually considering each patient’s situation.

And yet I found myself walking through the doors, waiting my turn, and describing what happened and my symptoms. I thought they would tell me there wasn’t anything they could do and that I was free to go. Instead they told me I needed to go to the ER. What? I just have a bruised forehead and a couple scrapes. The ER, really? But I went. Well, I tried to go. I pulled into the parking lot at the same hospital where I had to “decide” (even though I knew there was only one right decision), to be admitted, the same hospital that I had been at twice, against my will. And now I was going to walk in and let them decide what to do with me again? No way. I wasn’t doing that. And so I sat in the parking lot for a half hour, friends’ worries of brain bleeds or swelling swimming through my mind, along with the unpleasant memories. Finally I asked for one more friend’s advice- should I go in or not? She said she understood what I was feeling but thought I still needed to go in. So I did. Then I sat in the waiting room for 45 minutes, during which I nearly got up to leave, thinking I’d see how I felt in the morning. But just as I was about ready to put my jacket on, they called me in.

And now here I am, waiting. Always so much waiting. This time waiting on the results of a CAT scan. And the PA said I would probably be able to go home tonight. Although I know what probably means in hospitals. They keep teasing you, saying it might be soon, after lunch, after dinner, in the morning, until before you know it you’ve stayed the weekend and talked to a social worker and are waiting for an ambulance ride to yet another psych hospital.

And I will say, there were good outcomes from those inpatient stays. From my second stay I felt well cared for and received help and learned a lot. From my third stay they recognized that I didn’t need to be there and so discharged me as quickly as they could (which still took 2 days), but were able to set me up with appointments with great people (which is apparently why discharge from those places takes so long- finding a provider/therapist and setting up appointments, but who knows), so I am grateful for that.

And speaking of great people, I have lost yet another. I really don’t understand friendship. I’m trying to. But it seems that most friendships are built on being physically in someone else’s presence. Because at least for me, when I stop spending time with someone due to a job change or a move or a schedule shift, the friendship eventually fades, no matter how good the intentions are of keeping it as it was when you saw each other more often. But maybe that is what I need to understand. Either that it is ok for people to come and go from your life, or that friendships aren’t actually lost, ever. You can remain friends with someone based on your past, even if you haven’t spoken in months or seen each other in years. Right? Wrong? I don’t really know. But whether it’s right or wrong, I am proud of not falling apart over this loss. We weren’t friends for long but it didn’t take long before we were super close, and I was over sharing, maybe that’s a reason my friendships fail, and why am I only realizing that now? Anyway, as I tend to do, I thought our friendship would remain as it was forever, that nothing would change it. And yet here we are, just like every other friendship I’ve ever been in. I think it’s been over a week since we’ve spoken now. Sigh. But it’s ok. I like my job and my new co-workers and so I’m sure I’ll make a new temporary friend there. And this time I won’t overshare.

Haha, well, what would one of my posts be without going off on a tangent? But I’ll get back to the original topic-hospitals. Still here, over two hours after I arrived. Waiting for news, and hoping so hard I don’t have to stay or won’t be admitted or won’t have to talk to someone in psych, who probably doesn’t even come in until morning. Crossing all my fingers and toes for going home tonight. I’ll keep you posted. Going to close my eyes now while I wait.