I am in trouble with the nurse in charge, and I mean BIG trouble. As is another patient, although I do not accept all responsibility as it was not my idea, I just stupidly went along with it all.
I was having a weird day to start with. Early-ish this morning I wanted to go outside and walk around the grounds. The grounds here are beautiful and it’s been a glorious day, all sunny and everything. I knew a walk in the sunshine would do me good and burn off some excess energy. I asked one of the nurses if I could go for a walk and she said that she would love to let me go but I would have to be accompanied and unfortunately they were short staffed today as one of the nursing assistants was off ill. In essence I was told that I couldn’t go. That didn’t stop me though and about half an hour later I walked out of the front door.
The Priory has always amazed me in the fact that they always keep the front door open from 8am until 8pm. I can see the logic in this on weekdays as there is a receptionist present and it is the door in which day and outpatients use to arrive, but I never could understand the logic of it at weekends. If you want a cigarette after 8pm then you have to be let out of the door that leads up to the therapy department, which is coded, however, pre-8pm? Go ahead, walk out, no one at the weekend will see you go.
That was the philosophy I took and so I walked out figuring that as they were short staffed no one would really miss me. There have been 2 full-time RMNs, one agency RMN and 2 NAs on today. One patient has been on one-to-one obs so that means there has really only been 1 NA to complete the obs, the nurses never really do it, they tend to sit in the office and fill in paperwork or walk around every so often to ensure no one is kicking off or sit in the lounge and make it look as if they are working and being sociable whilst watching repeats of the Jeremy Kyle show on Freeview. I thought I could go out, have a brisk walk round and be back before anyone noticed, despite the fact I am on 15 minute obs.
So I open the front door, walk outside and smell the freedom of fresh air. I walk past the smoking hut and go onto the grass where the next thing I know is the male full-time RMN and the male agency RMN bundling on top of me and rugby tackling me to the ground. What do I do? Well, instead of being sensible and giving in whilst being frogmarched back to the ward I decide to fight back. It’s laughable, me at all of my 5′ 4″ trying to wrestle with two blokes restraining me! Anyway, they got me back to the ward where the nurse in charge gave me a bollocking as she had already told me I couldn’t go out and so I sat in my room, and in a very mature fashion, sulked.
A few hours, and a lot of sulking later, my head was spinning with thoughts, so much so that I couldn’t really focus on anything. I was hearing command hallucinations telling me that my head would straighten out if I cut myself. That if I self-harmed then I would slow down, be in control, my head would feel normal again and I wouldn’t be feeling so charged up. I cut myself with a razor blade I had hidden in the back of my phone, the same place in which I had smuggled the one I used earlier this year, and the same place they never checked when I was admitted. The nurse in charge came to talk to me about my skipping lunch and found me with what I thought to be quite superficial wounds all over my arms. She called the doctor and spoke with me about it until he arrived. I told her about my head spinning and the voices and how I felt so out of control and that I thought if I cut then I would be back in control. The doctor arrived and sutured a couple of the cuts and put dressings on the rest.
If that wasn’t enough, one of the other patients, invited me out for a cigarette (even though I don’t smoke anymore) and we cleared it with the nursing staff. He then procured a bottle of vodka out of a bush and we sat outside for about 2 and a half hours getting slowly drunk with the staff thinking we were drinking orange squash. When we both went inside we went straight to our rooms. I don’t know what he did, slept it off I suppose, but I ended up having a phone conversation with someone telling me I have no insight, was being selfish (as in only thinking about myself and having some of the best care in the country and just feeling pissed off about it) and was stupid for getting drunk on the meds I am on. I threw up whilst on the phone and threw up twice after we stopped talking. The NA realised I was vomiting and called the nurse in charge to come and assess me, she instantly realised I was drunk, breathalised me and gave me a complete and utter dressing down. She also called Dr Mc to inform him of my actions today, so any plan I had of being discharged on Tuesday I think I have just blown.
I now have to sit in the lounge all evening until the night staff come on duty at 7:30pm and then until they give me my meds at 10pm whereupon I will be observed until I have fallen asleep and then on strict 15 minute obs. The only saving grace is that they haven’t rung my parents about it. I guess I am beginning to accept I am manic, especially after talking with the nurse in charge about an hour and a half ago when I said I was just having fun and she told me I was being utterly irresponsible, lacking in insight, convinced I am invincible and nothing will happen to me and ‘as high as a kite’.
The strange thing is, I quite like being manic, even if I have been bollocked more times then I care to recall today.
Ruth
Fighting The Urge 