Well, I just had my first visit to the slammer (Emergency Room). Interesting enough, it wasn’t for asthma it was for mental health. Gosh, what an unwanted experience.
It all started with me visiting my family doctor. He told me if I started to get suicidal to come to see him. So, I did just that. Needless to say, it was suggested to me that I volunteer to go to the ER for a psyche evaluation. If I refused, I was going by ambulance, yep, not much choice.
The ER was something. I have never been to one as a patient. They were real nice to me and worked with me and my needle phobia. Actually, they sedated me pretty well and I did the blood work with not much of a care. I didn’t even have to be brave. Wish I could do that without dugs, oh well.
Next was the psyche evaluation. Yeah, this was when the fun began. Ahhhhh….not really! First person to quiz me was a psyche nurse (That’s what I gather anyway) and I told the lady some pretty uncomfortable stuff. Even more uncomfortable was the fact that my wife was there and I hadn’t told her anything. Boy, was she surprised and tearing up. The nurse left and the psyche doctor arrived to quiz me some more. He even asked more uncomfortable questions which I answered. Gosh, we were getting down right personal. Some of the stuff I admitted to I haven’t told anyone. I guess I should give myself credit, I did corporate the best I could. I did dodge a few questions but I was just not ready to share with the guy. Plus, my wife was in the room.
After the quizzing I was asked if I was willing to stay for a couple of days for treatment. I really did not want to but I said what ever is best for me. They ended up letting me go with instructions to follow up with me family doctor about seeing a psychiatrist. I was fine with that. So, I headed home loopy on Ativan and went straight to bed, sleeping all night. Boy, the ER shouldn’t have let me leave feeling that groggy. I swear they gave me 4 mg of the stuff. That is a bunch for me. Yep, those little pills can pack a punch.
I guess this blog post can’t be complete without some personal reflection. I can sum it all up with nightmare. I mean, I just didn’t want this. No, I am not in denial but I didn’t want it to go this far. See, I have known for most of my life that there is something wrong with me. I have worked tirelessly to be normal or at least my interpretation of what normal is. Yes, I have failed and many times I have succeeded in living a normal life. Now, I am just plain failing.
Am I getting help? Yes. Am I cooperating? Yes. Do I want to get better? Yes.
Deep down, I wanted this to be my big secret, but I guess nothing stays secret for long. Of all the things to happen to me, this is by far the worst. Nothing scares me more than having a mental illness. Nothing! I just want to be normal!