Wow, my first attempt at getting back into the Throw Oz Under the Bus Blog Challenge went as expected, though not as hoped. I had hoped I’d rise to the challenge and creating a kick-ass blog about whichever topic my dear friends voted on. What I expected to happen was that they would want to know about my time in the psych ward, and that it would prove too hard for me to write it up in 24 hours. Yep, couldn’t do it in time, but like an orgasm, better late than never, right?

So, thanks to my fabulous friend Jennifer, here is what it was like to spend 100 hours locked up for being “A Danger to Myself, or a Danger to Others.” First off, I’m not sure how overdosing on Valium can be considered a Danger to Others. It was a completely separate box that had to be checked on the admit form. After 100mg of Valium I’m not sure I could have even been a danger to others. It was hard enough for me to walk, how did they expect I was going to hurt someone? Pass out against the bathroom door so no one could get in to pee? And it’s not like I’ve ever wanted to hurt anyone else anyway. I’m a pacifist for fucks sake.

Ok, mostly a pacifist. Apparently if I’m in a mosh pit and someone on the sideline elbows me in the face and breaks my glasses, instead of turning the other cheek, I’ll to a quick one two combo and lay the fucker out. But I’ve been assured by many people proficient in mosh pit etiquette, getting knocked the fuck out is the appropriate response one should assume to receive when one elbows someone in the face from the sidelines. So, when in Rome, I guess. Other than that, I haven’t struck anyone in well over twenty years.

A danger to myself? Well, yeah, that was totally right. Here is a quick hint, if you are trying to convince someone that you are just fine, don’t tell them you only took that much Valium because you wanted to dampen the urge to shoot yourself. They will call an ambulance and lock your ass up right quick. Also, and more importantly, don’t try to lie and say you are fine when you CLEARLY are not. Ask for help. Seriously. ASK FOR HELP. Hell, if you feel like you have no one else to turn to, message me. I’ve been there. We can commiserate. Have a cup of virtual tea together. Get to know one another, you know, shoot the shit, not ourselves.

And really, being in a psych ward on a 5150 isn’t all that bad. I kinda liked it even. Being in the ER on a 5150, now that sucked. Fortunately, I don’t remember much. Benzodiazepines mess with your short-term memory, so all I have are short clips of my time there. And I was there for a couple days….I think…

I remember being in a bed in the hall by the nurse’s station. I think I was there for a long time. Long enough to have a couple meals and see some good hospital drama.

A tall, rangy dude with no shirt was asking for his pills. He had his shoes in his hand. Pristine white Nikes I think. I think he had been asking for a while because the tiny nurse looked exasperated when she said she didn’t have them.

“I have to have my pills. I’ll have a seizure without them.” He fumbled with his shirt a bit, like he was getting ready to put it on as he stepped further into the hall. Tiny nurse turned to the brunette behind the counter for backup.

“We threw them out.” Brunette said.

“What the fuck man?”

“The bottle was empty, so we threw it out.”

“The fuck it was. I know how many I had left. Give me my pills. I’ll have a seizure without those.” He nearly dropped his shirt he was so agitated.

“Sir, the bottle was empty. We threw it out,” Tiny said, backing up Brunette.

At this point one of the security guards, a big bastard with a condescending smirk, came into view. Or maybe I should say came into focus instead. Thinking back, he might have been there the entire time, but my memory is blurry, like an old tv show flashback where the edges of the screen fade away. The only reason I remember this at all was because of the tension in the room and my hyper-attention to insignificant details.

So, Big Bastard walked up to Rangy and said “Sir, you have to leave.”

“I’m not leaving without my pills.”

“Sir, they already told you, they threw them out. You have to leave now.”

“I need my pills!”

“Sir, I’ve asked you three times now to leave. We can do this the easy way, or the hard.” Big Bastard pointed a finger at Rangy’s face from two feet away.

Shit got real quiet. Rangy took a half step forward.

“I. Aint. Leaving. Without my pills.”

“Ok, the hard way it is.” Big Bastard turned around and grabbed some latex gloves from the nurse’s station. As he snapped the second into place, Rangy dropped his shoes and shirt, spread his arms out wide and raised his chin.

“Bring it,” he said.

Big Bastard squared his shoulders and stepped towards Rangy.

Just when I thought I had lucked upon bedside entertainment, A balding nurse came tearing around the corner, feet sliding on the slick floor like a cartoon, with a Ziploc bag in hand.

“They’re right here, his pills are here.” He handed the bag to Rangy, who shook the bag, letting everyone hear the rattle of a decidedly non-empty pill container. Big Bastard stood down as Rangy gathered his things and left without another word.

Baldy glared at Big Bastard, and the rest of the hospital staff and cussed them out for escalating the situation. It was their job to calm things down, not to treat the patients like shit. And the pills were right where they should have been, if anyone had cared enough to look.

Things get foggy again after that. Other moments of the staff treating people like garbage stand out though. I didn’t see Big Bastard again, but all the other security guards were rude as hell. One yelled at a little old lady to get back in her room, then he turned to his friend and said that he should have just chocked the bitch out and locked her in. How he wished he could just lock us all in.

Oh yeah, by this time I was in a room. I think my wife complained about there being empty rooms and I had been left in the hall for about a day….again…I think. At some point she brought me some books to read. I think they were Night Circus, Reaper Man, and the Hobbit. I know I ended up with J.R.R. Tolkien’s translation of Beowulf at some point, but I don’t know if she brought it then or if that happened after I made it to the psych ward.

Oh, yeah, she had taken me to the in-patient psych hospital first, but there were no beds, so they called an ambulance and transferred me to the ER. I’m kinda remembering some of this as I write, so please bear with me if the timeline jumps here and there.

Anyway, back at the ER, I slept a lot, and read The Hobbit. I picked that one because I can almost remember it verbatim, and since I was so drugged I couldn’t focus on anything else. It was more like remembering the story than reading it. It was the first book I ever read. And I read it over and over again because it was the only book I had. It was that story that got me through my very first major depression episode when I was a kid. I read it every winter after that. It is a simple story that evokes strong, complex, and comforting emotions in me. So please, please don’t mention the fucking movies to me. You can’t imagine my disappointment in Peter Jackson. I had such high hopes after the amazing job he did with Lord of the Rings.

So…um…oh yeah, back at the ER…..

I’m not sure how long I was there, but it felt like forever. No one came into my room. No one talked to me, except when they took my blood pressure. Sometimes I would wake up to find my food tray on the floor next to my bed, everything cold and stale. My wife visited when she could, but at some point they stopped letting her in. I found out later that the nurse on duty, nurse Ratchet I now call her, wouldn’t let my wife see or even talk to me on the phone. She told my wife that I didn’t want to talk to her. How fucked up is that? At some point someone told me that my wife had called and I could use the phone at the nurse’s station, so I called. My wife was almost in tears she was so angry with the nursing staff. She knew I would never turn her away, especially when I was alone in the hospital.

So, the ER sucked.

At some point, I think two days later, a bed opened up at the psych hospital and I was transferred, again by ambulance. It was night, I remember that because the ambulance guys said it was going to be cold and wrapped me in a blanket.

Once at the psych ward (PW) everything was good. I sat in a little room with a (really cute) nurse as she asked me questions and took my vitals. Did I know who I was, where I was? Did I know why I was there? Did I take the pills on purpose? Did I have thoughts of harming myself? Did I have a plan on how to do it?

That last is a funny question to me. I felt like saying “Of course I had a plan? Who doesn’t?” Turns out, most people, that’s who. Most people don’t have detailed plans on how they would end their lives.

News to me.

After the initial round of questions she told me that she was going to have to check my body for wounds or sores, would that be ok?

“Sure.”

“A male nurse will do the checking, ok?”

“Fine by me.” I was still feeling VERY relaxed from the pills. I guess Valium stays in the body for a loooooog time. Like, 100 hours someone at the hospital said.

As they got the room where they would do the checking ready, the nurse informed me that they were understaffed so it would have to be two female nurses to do the checking.

“Even better J” Yes, I smiled at her. I’m a HUGE flirt when intoxicated.

Another (even cuter) nurse joined us in the room.

“Ok,” said Cute Nurse, “We have to check everything, so please remove your clothes and put them in this bag.” She fumbled with a hospital gown as Cuter Nurse stood behind me.

I took off my shirt, then dropped pants and boxers at the same time. I kicked them away and stood, feet shoulder wide, arms raised 45 degrees, and looked Cute right in the eyes like “Tadah!” No I didn’t actually say Tadah….I think….

“Um…people usually remove their shirt first and we put on the gown before removing your pants.”

“Oh, whatever. You’re gonna see it all anyway right.” I turned my head to see Cuter looking at my bare butt. She quickly looked up. Our eyes met, and I winked at her. She blushed a little. Like I said, Valium stays with you.

Thus began my sojourn in a Psychiatric Hospital. I was there from Monday night to Thursday afternoon. This post is getting a bit long, so stay tuned for how day one went.

Anyway, thinks for reading.