The trauma of 2017, Part 2 (The breakdown & ED)

Back to that ominous Saturday…

Once my husband and I returned from walking our dog, my anxiousness took on a life of its own. I recall a few incidents that led to me ending up in the frightening emergency department that night.

Just as I put the leash down on the counter, I felt this surge of aggressive energy fill my body and I couldn’t sit still. I started pacing back-and-forth. Although, I don’t quite recall how I got there, I just remember being in my bedroom and trying to release the unbearable anxiety that filled my body. I began pulling vigorously on the bed frame and screaming. I ended up breaking the bed frame. Eventually, my husband came into the bedroom and tried to restrain me, which led to some kicking and more screaming. Krieger, our dog was in there too and barking, as I would imagine that it startled him. My husband eventually calmed me down. 

I’m not sure how much time passed, but the next thing I remember, I had taken off all of my clothes and sat on the kitchen floor rocking back-and-forth. I’m not sure why I was doing this, but I guess that it was to try and comfort the angst inside of me. Sometime later, my in-laws had come, and they were praying over me. My mother-in-law, whom I love dearly, was trying to get close to me and my only response was to slap her. The next thing I knew, there were other friends that were at our house, including a female doctor friend of ours from church and her husband, who was a pastor. They were also praying. Then I overheard her suggesting to my husband that he take me to the emergency department, as that was the only option, given my behavior.

A few minutes later, my doctor friend suggested that I take a shower before we left. Given my emotional state, I couldn’t fathom how to go about taking a shower. It was as if I hadn’t ever taken a shower before. I remember being agitated and I couldn’t figure out how to turn the shower on or even wash myself. My friend helped me.

A few minutes later we left for the hospital. This was a hospital that I was all too familiar with, as my husband and I had visited the emergency department a few times before, given my previous moments of hysteria. Although, prior to this night, I always returned home.

Once we got to the ED, they checked me in and we waited, and waited, and waited. I remember a slew of fearful thoughts running through my head. I kept thinking to myself “I’m scared, and I don’t know if I can do this. I want to go home!”

Finally, they called me in and asked me all sorts of questions, but most of them centered around whether I wanted to harm myself or others. They had me change into a hospital gown and put me in a bed in the hallway. I remember hearing a woman screaming from time to time. There was so much noise all around me and I remember feeling even more agitated. Again, I couldn’t sit still. One of the doctors came by and again, my nervousness overtook me, and I slugged him. A few minutes later, a nurse came by and stuck me in the leg with a needle full off what I would imagine was some sort of sedative. This was the second narcotic medication I’d received since entering the ED.

Many hours later, I was still in the bed, and from time to time, various hospital staff would come by, including the psychotherapist. Again, many of the questions were centered around either me harming myself or harming others. And again, I told them that “I didn’t want to harm myself or others.” Throughout the entire ordeal, my husband was right beside me, which I was grateful for, especially given how I treated him when the anxiety took over.

As we were sitting there, one reoccurring thought kept running through my head, and that was “I think the devil is trying to kill me and I’m not sure if I’m going to make it through the night.” I shared this with my husband, and he reassured me that everything would be all right, and that Jesus will take care of me. As I am sitting here remembering that night, it still brings tears to my eyes.

One of the nurses came by and told me they were taking me to the other facility where they would assess me, but little did we know that for the next three days, I would be in the locked facility next-door.

A few minutes later, a male orderly came by with a wheelchair to take me to the other facility. At this time, I was scared to death, but I said goodbye to my husband. He promised to be praying for me and again, he told me that he loved me and how much Jesus loved me more.

I plopped into the wheelchair, and we were off, through an underground tunnel that went from the ED to the facility. I became even more frightened as we progressed through the tunnel. It was cold, dark and creepy. However, something inside of me reminded me of a scripture that I knew all too well, which was “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want…..”Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.”(the book of Psalms, chapter 23, verses 1 and 4). As we got further into the tunnel, I kept reciting these verses under my breath and amazingly, the peace of God came over me. I had a calmness and a sense of joy, knowing that God was watching over me.

By the time we got to the locked facility, it was close to 1AM.  They brought me into a room, which had two rooms inside it, in the middle of a long hallway. They took me to the room on the right, which was sort of an intake area, and another nurse came in and asked me a series of questions. She then asked me to undress so that they could see any bruises or marks on my body.  At this point, because of all of the lashing out, I had bruises all over my body, in addition to losing a significant amount of weight.  Shortly after, the nurse left, and I was all by myself. I took that opportunity to peek into the other room and as soon as I saw what was inside, a tinge of fear ran throughout my entire body. There was a hospital bed with restraints on the top and bottom of the bed. In my next blog, I will share a story of a woman who was left in that same bed for hours.

When the nurse came back, they had me fill out some paperwork out and then I was allowed to call my husband on the payphone. It was then that I found out that I would be at that facility for three days, given the three-day hold (or the “5150”). My husband told me that he also had learned the same thing a few minutes earlier. 

Stay tuned for the continuation of this experience…