Embrace the Psychosis Part 2

“Visiting or checking in?”

Checking in.

“What’s the problem?”

I’m experiencing a break with reality and I’m a danger to myself.

“Have a seat, someone will be with you shortly.”

I didn’t expect to be at Harborview. I thought we were going back to Northwest as it was much closer and we were traveling in rush hour traffic. It didn’t matter. The only reason I’d wanted to go back to Northwest was to show them all exactly what they had caused, but it wasn’t their fault, it was mine.

I sat down in the waiting room with my father and sister. He was on the phone with the psychotherapy clinic across the street. I had already had a phone interview scheduled to get enrolled in their dialectical behavioral therapy program. Unfortunately we kept losing signal throughout the hospital and the call ended without resolution.

My sister sat next to me trying to understand the gibberish I kept spewing between falling asleep.

“So who was harassing you?

Jubel! From the radio. They have an office upstairs.

 “I don’t understand what you’re saying they did.”

They have me under total surveillance. Cameras in the office, listen devices, they followed me everywhere.

“Why you? Did someone call them?”

Yeah! It was the nurses at the hospital. They felt bad for me, so they decided that instead of helping me they’d put me through a traumatic experience to break me of my addiction. Didn’t go quite as they thought since I just kept using.

“When’s the last time that you used?”

What time is it?

“7:30 am.”

Seven and a half hours ago. I made it through the night though.

My name was called by the triage nurse. I explained everything again as she took my vitals. She was kind and efficient, which we all appreciated. I believe that I’d met her before, the last time I came asking for help.

It was two month prior, during my first relapse since returning from Hawaii. I’d recently become homeless and alone. I didn’t stand a chance.

I’d called an old friend who had offered me sanctuary in the past. It had been nearly 24 hours since my last use and all I wanted to do was sleep. I’ve found that when that’s all I want, it’s the last thing that I’ll be doing.

I tossed and turned on his couch for three hours, becoming increasing afraid that there was something seriously wrong with my body. Abscesses have become a signature of relapse and infection a signature of abscesses. I could feel my addiction killing me slowly with every pulse through my arm.

I have to leave.
“I understand. Where are you going?”

To the hospital. I need a medically supervised detox.

“I’ll drive you.”

I’ll walk.

“I have to insist.”

So do I. I have far too much energy I need to burn off. I’ll be okay.

“I trust that you will. You’ll beat this.”

I will.

I slapped the pavement with one foot after another for five miles across the heart of Seattle. I didn’t stop for water. I didn’t stop for rest. But I couldn’t stop myself from using again.

It was 4 o’clock in the morning, when the city runs on methamphetamine. I knew anyone online was down to party, I just had to find someone with a clean point, which only took a moment. From the time I decided to use again and the time I pushed the plunger in only twenty minutes had elapsed.

There were countless excuses for doing it again. I wanted one last time before I quit for good. I wanted to calm down before going into the hospital. In the end I wanted to hurt myself again.

I arrived at the hospital just after 6 am, to find that it was largely abandoned.  

 “Visiting or checking in?”

Checking in.

“What’s the problem?”

I am addicted to methamphetamine and I need help.

“Have a seat, someone will be with you shortly.”

I went through the whole process completely disillusioned that they could help me. I wanted to believe it would be like when I first detoxed on Oahu. They would send me to a forgotten place in the hills that I could go for a week away from all the distraction and temptation. What I wanted was thousands of miles away, just where I left it.

“What exactly would you like us to help you with?”

I am looking for a medically supervised detox.

“Where do you think you can get that?”

This is how I got it in Hawaii.

“Well, even if there was a bed available at any of the facilities here, methamphetamine doesn’t require medical detox.”

It doesn’t? Because having experienced it I’m pretty sure that it does.

“Not according to the state of Washington.”

Is there any way that you can help me? All I want is help.

“I wish there was something I could do.”

They didn’t even give me antibiotics for the infection in my arm.

Regardless of any previous encounters we may have had, the triage nurse was friendly enough. I should acknowledge that at this point my interpretations of what transpired is likely far more askew than normal, which is a far cry from fact at best. I remember everyone having a lemon tint to their aura and features that bubbled and popped in the light. It was like living in a candy commercial.

They asked about any changes to my insurance. I started to rant about how any of my expenses should be forwarded to Movin’ 92.5 care of Jubel in the morning. Luckily my sister was able to get them the necessary information.

I can’t thank my family enough for all the help they gave me during this time. 

I was moved to a bed in the ER. They took my vitals and a variety of doctors came to interview me. I was falling in and out of sleep. It reached a point where I was given the impression that they were not going to be able to help me and my disposition changed dramatically.

I could feel my mood shift immediately from cooperative and even jovial to pure rage. My lips pursed without warning and everyone was against me.

See this is what I was telling you about!

“What are you talking about?”

You see how the nurses move to where they think I can’t hear them and then all start laughing. They’re mocking me.

“I don’t think they’re making fun of you.”

Why did they all look over here and then get very quiet after I said that? I can hear you!

“Calm down, these people are here to help you.”
These people have never helped me before. They sit me here only long enough to get a few laughs. ‘Look at the lowly addict, can’t help himself. Hahaha.’ There isn’t help for people like me.

“I hope that you’re wrong.”

Something I said or did was different this time, or maybe it was my sister. I was transferred to Psychiatric Emergency Services (PES) in a surprisingly short amount of time. They moved me into a small room that appeared to made of metal and echoed sounds furiously. At first I was alone so I slept.

When I awoke there was sound all around me.

My back is cold.

“Your back isn’t cold.”

“Twitter twat, dinkle damp.”

“Has he ever been diagnosed with schizophrenia?”

I’m not schizophrenic, wrong personality.

“So you’re saying there is a family history?”

“Not exactly.”

I see you.

“Oh, he’s a smart one. He already found the cameras.”

 “They’ll feed you Crayola and kindness.”

My back is cold.

“Your back isn’t cold.”

You can’t change my reality so easily.

Time moved in a circular pattern, unhinged from the gravitational pull of the sun. I fell in and out of sleep. Or maybe I was awake the whole time. I don’t remember the doctor coming in.

“Good morning.”

Is it still morning?

“Yes it’s 10:30 am. Do you know where you are?”

Psychiatric ward, Harborview hospital.

“Do you remember why you’re here?”

I had a complete psychotic break with reality. Judging by the number of echoes I’m hearing I may still be.

“Yes, it can be a bit chaotic in here. Do you remember how this break occurred?”

They changed my meds, then they wouldn’t call me back. I told them I was uncontrollable. I told them.

“Told who?”

My therapist, they won’t let me talk to the psychiatrist.

“And what exactly are they treating you for?”

They won’t say. Current working theory is Borderline Personality Disorder, I fit all the criteria.

“Do you find comfort in that diagnosis?”

Yeah, I guess I do. At least then I know how to start to solve the problem. Everyone has been saying I’m depressed, but I don’t feel depressed. I cycle between anxiety and anger, but not depression. Good thing too, more motivating this way.

“Anger can be extremely motivating. Where do you want to go from here?”

I want to go to ATS, out on the Pali Highway. They helped me before.

“I’m not familiar with them.”

They’re on Oahu, they can’t help me here. I just need a place to be for a few days. And I want my old  meds back.

I fell asleep again at some point, possibly mid conversation, I didn’t care. When I awoke there were two chairs being brought into my room. I had visitor, my sister and brother in law as I was told. When they walked in the door I realized that was merely a ruse to sneak in an old friend of mine. I was grateful too, I didn’t really feel that I needed to see my brother in law.

“Hey man, how’s it going?”

I’m delusional, in a psych ward, after a week long meth binge. How are you?

“Haha, yeah. You hanging in there though?”

I’m here.

“Well, we wanted to talk to you about what’s going to happen next.”

“We think you should considered going back to inpatient.”

I’m not going to have this conversation here. I’m just going to blindly tell you no.

“Okay, we can talk about it more later. We need to go talk with the doctor for a moment. I’ll check in with you before we leave.”

I was asleep when they left.

Unfortunately, I have to wrap this up quickly. I was discharged from PES after receiving a round of IV antibiotics to Crisis Solution Center. They were then unable to help me with anything more than a bed for three days because I already had a mental health provider. Once out I connect with my medical clinic and they were able to get me back on the medication that worked.

The reason for this hasty synopsis is that I just found out that a bed is available for me. I decided that going back to inpatient is the right choice at this point. Hopefully I have a better experience than last time.

Thank you again to everyone who’s helped me along this journey. It’s far from over but we’re starting to make progress again. I’ve told you all along that I’m going to be okay, I still believe that.