"Never stayed overnight"

I've never so much as had one overnight in a hospital in my whole life. My vision of what it would be like to be an inpatient? I'd be freezing cold from the air conditioning , it would be noisy, and I wouldn't be able to fall asleep. And that is exactly the case but of course because they put me in psych it was much, much worse.

My roomie, "Charlotte" is 67. Of course, since I have a social work background I brainstorm about the possible diagnosis of the various patients. I've got her at least dually diagnosed. She is severely developmentally disabled. Functioning as a 5 year old maybe?

She sleeps with a teddy bear and talks with it. She sleeps on her back, and holds the teddy above her and just converses with it. It takes her a good 2-3 hours to fall asleep each night. Then she begins a snore that sounds like she has sleep apnea. After that first overnight sharing a room with her (night one there is no teddy) I said, "do you have sleep apnea?" it's then I realize her level of functioning.

Day 4, my boots (i own 2 pairs of shoes, boots and standard black shoes good for an office or a hike, aerosoles ya know) are gone. Charlotte says: "I threw them away, because I didn't think you needed them" I very loudly said "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU THREW THEM AWAY?!"

"I'm sorry" it seemed she might cry.

I changed my voice to a gentle voice, one I typically would use with a small child. "Now, Charlotte, come show me what you did with my boots" She walked me back to the room, and showed me that she had put them in a paper grocery bag (we are all stripped of our purses and backpacks and issued grocery bags) on her nightstand.

"Now Charlotte, see that, and that, and that?" "You can't touch those things, they are mine and I need them"

"O.K. Elana, I won't. I'm sorry. I love you"

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Then there is Betty. Also about 70 maybe? Severe o.c.d. Theoretically staff are watching us very closely, I feel very big brothered. However, they miss things that are pretty important. Betty keeps stealing patient's "files" We are all issued folders that don't have our names on them and they all look exactly alike. I noticed in the "mess hall" that Betty had 3 folders. I did put my name on mine. I said, Larry, she keeps taking our folders. Larry said, now don't do that. (Well, in the case of o.c.d. that statement is a real waste of breath)

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Then there is Bernie. Bernie is about my age. 6 foot, 270, big gut. Real loud gutteral laugh. Always laughing. None of us can figure out what's so funny. We are all in hell after all. Well, Bernie has this horrible habit of standing over me, sitting next to me standing on top of me, you get it.

At meal time, the food is horrid. There is always alot of swapping. "I'll give you my cream cheese for your apple pie" It's quite a sight. I said "Geez, this is like grade school!" Bernie was really getting under my skin. He came over to me and asked if he could have my oatmeal.

"STAY AWAY FROM ME" I said. I'll tell ya, this kind of prison like environment will bring out the worst in anybody. He said: "You were o.k. with me yesterday" "I was not o.k. with you yesterday" He walked away and muttered "asshole, i need out of this fucking place" (my sentiments exactly) At this point, without saying a word I hand him my oatmeal. He said "thank you" A few minutes later he extended his hand for a peace handshake. I shook his hand and he knew to leave me alone.

I was still having the syncopy and horribly sleep deprived and I have no idea how long I'm going to be here. I didn't know until day 4 that I was on a locked ward. I wonder when I'll feel the sunshine on my face again? I feel very, very despondent and scared.

What a model. How can they think that anybody can get well up here? Anyhow, I just broke down crying-unconsoleably. One of the staff walked me away from the dining hall and put me in a solitary confinement room. That really scared me more. I knew that I better turn off the tears. I think about the abusive family I grew up in where I was taught to stuff my emotions.

This is the solitary room that poor little ben keeps getting locked in. He is 12. With him they really do lock him in. Every day he screams and bangs and kicks on the door for 2-5 hours. The entire ward's furniture shakes when the boy is in there. I finally got to see American Idol, and we, (the patients) hear the singers in the foreground and poor little Ben in the background. I think about how his folks probably gave up on him don't know how to control him.

I think of how lonely it must be that he is up here with no other young people. When he's not in solitary, he's really quiet and sits with us at meal times. He does lots of word games and such. One time he accidentally left it out. It was so perfect, I was sure it was done by an adult. I think about autism. They are socially low functioning but little prodigys in many ways.

So, Friday I had my hearing, I won, and got home by 2 p.m.

My public defender paid me a real nice compliment. I have this little part of my brain that serves as a storage unit for compliments paid to me over the years. I think we have to draw on the positive things people say to us in times of need.

He said: "You present yourself VERY well"