Yesterday morning was spent still at the ED while I awaited news of what was happening/whether there was a bed at a psych hospital/whether Dr T agreed to admit and treat me as an inpatient.
I asked for my usual 200mg of sertraline. The nurse came and told me that the doctor hadn’t charted that up, but had charted up quetiapine. “Err, I’m not on quetiapine,” I told her. She tried to tell me they’re “for the same thing.” Uh, no they’re not. I’m sure the nurse appreciated being told that by me. Ha. She then told me the doctor had written in up for if I’m anxious or can’t sleep. Oh, righty then, that explains it if it was written up as PRN. So I took the 25mg that was offered to me.
After consultation with the doctor, she then came back telling me she had my citalopram charted up. Problem is…I’m not on citalopram! Never have been. Geez. Then finally after all that, I got the right medication.
After more waiting and waiting, finally I was told they have a bed for me at H Clinic, the private psych clinic adjacent to where Dr T practices. Overheard the mental health nurse over the phone, “Dr T has accepted BtF as a patient, thank God.” I guess they were sick of me waiting around in the obs ward too…not as sick as I was though.
My two aunts then took me home to pack my belongings and transport me to H Clinic. Lectured me along the way too, which made me feel even more suicidal.
At dinner time I saw a guy I went to primary school with at the eating disorders table. Not sure if he recognised me, but that’s a bit awkward…
Later in the evening Dr T came in to see me. My aunts wanted to see and speak to her, much to my annoyance. After they had their chat, finally they left and I was able to talk to Dr T alone.
Did some more crying over everything that’s happened. Dr T told me I seem irritated. Well really? Maybe because right now I really don’t give a crap, I’ve messed up yet again, can’t be bothered trying and just want to give up. She asked whether I was pissed off I didn’t succeed in trying to off myself. “Yeah, I guess,” I shrugged in response. So why doesn’t everyone else just let me give up? Do you not get that I really don’t give a toss about ‘treatment’ anymore?! Argh!
I was asked how I feel about being here in hospital. I replied that I didn’t want to be here, but I didn’t want to be anywhere really. “Might as well be here then,” she said. I had no response to that.
Both the nurse and Dr T said I’d probably be here a couple of weeks. What am I going to do about Uni?! A friend has posted on my Facebook wall about a group presentation in three weeks for our Psychology class. Have no idea how to respond. And so I emailed my tutor last night, telling her something along the lines of ‘Im going to be stuck in the loony bin for a couple of weeks.’ As well as that, I have a test in the coming week, and an assignment due the Monday after that *stress*.
Besides the ED patients, I find myself the youngest patient here, similar to when I was in the public psych ward late last year.
And I’m writing this on my iPhone at 4:30am as the temazepam seems to only have worked for about four hours. Yay. Guess I’ll try to fall asleep again…and be up at 7am for breakfast…