The next thing I knew it was early to mid morning and I awoke with a start with a nurse practically eye ball to eye ball with me. I nearly jumped out of my skin and let out a screech, which in turn startled her and she also shrieked in surprise. We both looked at each other, heart pounding, then smiled sheepishly. 'Sorry,' she said, 'but you seem to have bled through your bandages on that arm, I was just going to wake you up so we can redress it.'
'That's okay,' I said, wide awake from the unexpected disturbance.
Looking at my arm I saw that it had indeed bled through yet again, staining the bed sheets where it has been resting. 'Sorry about the sheets,' I said awkwardly. The nurse waved away my apology and left in search of bandages. She returned with another nurse, bandages from the clinic and my own collection of first aid paraphernalia. She asked if I could re bandage the wounds myself and I said yes, grateful for this small way to maintain my independence.
The second nurse stayed with me to ensure I did so, and once it was done she stated that unusually I could go back to sleep if I wanted, because I'd been up all night, or I could go into the lounge. She informed me however that after I'd been to sleep my room would be locked and I wouldn't be allowed in it until night time or unless I wanted to fetch something. This was because they didn't have the staff for one to one observations so needed me to stay in the communal area to be kept an eye on. They would however follow me to the bathroom given yesterday's events.
I felt angry and trapped by being banned from the room, uncomfortable with the thought of always having to stay in communal areas, and humiliated by the thought of being followed to the toilet. I tried to get a little more sleep but failed, so in the end got up and dressed, fetched my book and cigarettes and meandered into the main communal area, where a patient had put on some music. Some were chatting amongst themselves or wandering up and down, while my room mate and the rest of the book club sat holed up, reading.
I joined this group, apologising to my room mate for the disturbance last night. 'I knew what you were doing,' she said conversationally, but with a slightly cool tone. 'They popped their heads in our room when you'd been in the bathroom for twenty minutes to ask where you were. I knew you had probably done something then.' Her ton was slightly derisive and I felt my self esteem slip down a notch, while my self hatred stepped forward to take centre stage.
Gradually as the day went on and I went out of my way to be considerate and make people laugh Sarah seemed to thaw towards me, offering smiles and jokes in return and allowing me to sit at her and Peter's usual table for dinner, but I still felt that somehow I had lost an ally. 'Honestly Katy,' I thought, as I pushed my dinner round my plate untouched, 'You've only been here five minutes and already managed to lose a friend.'
'Story of my life' I thought as I sat there. 'Story of my sodding life.'
Last edited by Buttons. : 16-10-2012 at 06:26 AM.
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell. Oscar Wilde
Its hard to dance with the devil on your back. Sydney Carter
During the next few days in the unit my mood deteriorated further. I was increasingly self destructive, struggling to control urges to bang my head and pick at my lips and bite my tongue until it bled. One of the night staff stayed with me and encouraged me to walk up and down the ward, talking about anything and everything, to distract my mind from painful memories and strained thoughts.
During the day I read near constantly and isolated myself during smoke breaks, unwilling and unable to participate in the talk and banter between both staff and patients. One health care assistant did manage to entice me into talking a little about my time as a student nurse, but I quickly began to feel even more depressed, grieving for the career that I might well have lost forever.
A new patient was admitted and with a shock I realised this was actually a patient I had nursed when I was on my nursing course. I felt mortified to be in this position, where once I had the keys and the security of 'sanity' we were now both the same, imprisoned by our madness.
Luckily the man didn't seem to remember me but I felt wholly uncomfortable, a feeling only made worse when a bank nurse appeared whom I had frequently worked with on a ward only a few months previously. She was tactful and kind but I felt humiliated, and knowing that nice as she was she was inclined to gossip, worried that the news of my incarceration might well get back to former colleagues with whom I desperately didn't want to lose face or respect.
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell. Oscar Wilde
Its hard to dance with the devil on your back. Sydney Carter
I'm really glad to see you writing again, love, I know it means a lot to you, I hope that it is helping in some way. You've such a beautiful flow in the way you write, it's like you're speaking all the words you've wanted to say. Your vocabulary is lovely and varied, and I don't think I could ever get bored of reading your stuff. I hope you post more soon & get some (ALL) of your confidence back because you have a talent, not many people can communicate so fluidly with words as you do.
Much love :)
Now I'll play your ghost as my ace, whenever I'm led astray.
But I am actually good, can't help it if we're tilted.
I'm in my right place, don't be a downer.
After a few days, a nurse escorted me off the ward to the nearby medical centre to have some stitches and steri strips removed, and to treat some of the wounds on my legs that had become itchy, sore and infected.
As we walked over she soundlessly offered me a lighter and I lit up and breathed in deeply, shooting her a look of immense gratitude. She smiled, pocketed the lighter again and we walked companionably until we reached the medical centre, where we signed in (with some difficulty, the computer claiming I lived somewhere entirely different and had a GP neither of us had every heard of; the wonders of NHS record keeping never cease to amaze). We moved to the waiting area and sat down, me fidgeting a little but managing to remain seated.
Quite quickly we were called through; the nurse we were greeted by invited me to hop up on the hospital trolley. Carefully she unwound the dressings on my legs, and proceeded to soak them, causing relief to pour through me as I had this small blissful break from uncontrollable itching.
While my legs were being treated, the nurse from the unit waited outside as I had to slip my trousers off and use a hospital gown to preserve my dignity, which very nearly caused me to refuse treatment out of anxiety of exposing myself. Unfortunately this gave me time, while the nurse was using dressings imbibed with silver (apparently good for healing) to patch up my damaged legs, to slip a pair of dressing scissors subtly up my sleeve.
I felt a strange mixture of joy and revulsion at the opportunity to self destruct, and the guilt for taking advantage of their concessions to privacy, which by taking the scissors, I had thoroughly taken advantage of.
I wrestled with myself as the unit nurse re-entered the area while the other nurse bustled off in search of something or other, to admit it or not admit it? The best bet would be to just put the scissors back, but with the nurses' beady eyes on me I knew I didn't stand a chance.
I sat there, dithering. Should I, shouldn't I? Whether to try or give into the loud crass bully in my head. I couldn't decide. But I had to.
Last edited by Buttons. : 16-10-2012 at 06:43 AM.
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell. Oscar Wilde
Its hard to dance with the devil on your back. Sydney Carter
Fortunately fate solved my dilema for me. As I put my boots back on the scissors slipped from my sleeve and fell, incriminating onto the bed. 'I'm assuming you deliberately hid those up your sleeve?" said the nurse, voice neutral. I nodded.
'Right okay. Have you got anything else hidden?' I truthfully shook my head. 'I will just have to check with the nurse that nothing else is missing when she gets back, just in case.' I nodded, her suspicion understandable. When the nurse returned the ward nurse asked her to check that all sharp objects were accounted for. The nurse checked and found nothing else missing. The ward nurse thanked her and we walked back to the ward in a slightly more subdued manner than we had left it.
Later that afternoon, despite my having not taken anything beyond the scissors, I was told they would be searched my belongings with a metal detector as the nurses from the medical centre had rung up saying that they weren't sure everything sharp could be accounted for.
I stood, hot with anger and fear for the stashed blade as they passed the stick over my belongings, beeping over a belt and a zip, but showing up no sharp objects. Finally they left and I breathed a sigh of relief that they had a) missed the stashed blade and b) had also had failed to run the metal detector over my own body, in which I had a blade nestled carefully in an unobtrusive place. My escape routes were safe. So why did I feel so very, very trapped?
Last edited by Buttons. : 16-10-2012 at 06:45 AM.
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell. Oscar Wilde
Its hard to dance with the devil on your back. Sydney Carter
Within days of my admission I saw my parents, which was a distressing for all concerned. Two males on the ward were behaving in a loud and aggressive manner, which frightened me and worried my parents. I tried to reassure them but I suspect my fear showed through, as they asked if I was still willing to stay there. I said yes, I was, wanting to make the most of any opportunity to get help, but privately considering self discharge myself, as the male patients' behaviour became more erratic and violent day by day.
I remembered the night before, when one of them had begun to smash everything in sight; phone, walls, tables, chairs, while my room mate and I had lain tense and terrified in our beds.
We eventually got up when an alarm sounded, piercing. We hovered at the door to our room, remaining close to each other for comfort, unsure as to whether the alarm was a fire alarm or just an alarm to alert staff where to find trouble.
After a tense few minutes a staff member came to our rescue. She praised us for staying out of the way of the violent behaviour of the male patient in question, but stated that that alarm was indeed the fire alarm which the patient had set off in the confusion, so in future we should go to the communal area if that sounded, just in case.
That night had shaken me to the core, already wary of men, let alone ones who were delusional and aggressive. However both my parents and I decided I should try to stick it out, to see if it could do something for my intense desolation.
'Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor, and it can never be used to hurt you.'
['There is only one thing we say to death. Not today'.']
'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell. Oscar Wilde
Its hard to dance with the devil on your back. Sydney Carter
