The thoughts came hard and sharp. Not intent but intrusive. It was Thursday afternoon. I'd been crying for a while. Usually, I can't cry if I want to. Josh was doing worksheets with Oliver, but they seemed far away and fogged. Josh's help did not relieve the pressure on my chest.
What if these thoughts started to seem like a good idea?
What if something else took over?
"I don't want to tell the truth because it might be really bad for you guys," I said. He asked if I needed to stop doing Oliver's school work. He asked if I needed to go somewhere. I didn't want to go anywhere. I didn't want to make life harder or sadder for Josh or Oliver or anyone else. But my head ached from the sharpness of those thoughts.
I texted Mom. "May be going to hosp. Not so safe."
I took out a yellow sticky pad and pink pen and wrote down numbers from my cell phone. A crisis triage line, my mom, Bruce, my therapist, Oliver's teacher and therapists. Josh took a picture of the page with his phone. He went into the guest room to call my therapist, and I took Oliver to his room for bed.
My eyes were wide open.
I texted Bruce, "I may need your help. Not feeling very safe."
He asked questions that I sort of answered. He said, "I love you. No matter what."
When Oliver was asleep, I went back to the living room. Josh had talked to the therapist, who had called my psychiatrist. Josh was waiting to hear back. I sat in my chair.
"Yes, sir," I heard Josh say into his phone as he went back to the guest room. He came back, holding the phone out to me. I took a deep breath but didn't try to disguise my voice. Tears continued to seep from the corners of my eyes.
"...how are you doing?"
"Not so good."
"Your husband said you were having these thoughts. You thought about...but you didn't do it?"
"I didn't do it."
"Tell me about how you feel."
"I don't feel so safe."
"Would you feel safer if you stayed overnight in a hospital?"
"I don't know. I guess."
"Maybe that would be good. Or at least a few hours, so they could assess you. Because it sounds like these thoughts are powerful."
Yes. They still weren't intent, but they were powerful. They were scary. "Okay."
"Let's do that. Can I talk to your husband?"
He asked Josh if he needed to call an ambulance, if he thought I'd try to get out of the moving car. Josh said he didn't see that happening.
Josh called Bruce. "Can you come sit with Oliver? He's asleep, but I need to take Becky to the emergency department."
I changed into leggings, a purple Sleeping Beauty T-shirt, a peach-pink hoodie without a string, and a pair of dark blue slip-on sneakers. Though I'd never been a patient before, I'd been to psych wards, and as my mom would say, it wasn't my first rodeo. I went into the closet and took out the blue bag I packed several years ago when we first moved into this apartment over seven years ago. I just decided one day that I needed to go to Target and prepare for...well, today.
"Cut the straps off," I said to Josh. "They won't let me have it with the straps." Josh cut the straps off the bag.
Then, Bruce was there. Josh let him into the building. We hugged, and I said, "I just had to see you."
"This is a little elaborate," he said. "You could have just come by."
"If Oliver wakes up, remind him that you're Bruce."
I had my purse, knowing I wouldn't keep it, and my 40-ounce pink water bottle. The bag was awkward without the straps. I decided I should call my mom. I managed to get out that I was going to the hospital. She did great--loving and supportive without making me cry more. She told me she was proud of me. I tried to put that right in my heart.
We got to the ED. Everything was blocked off, and the two employees were wearing elaborate masks and were covered in plastic. It was like a sci-fi movie. Josh and I were wearing the masks my mom made us.
"There are no visitors," the man said.
I turned to Josh and leaned into him awkwardly. I didn't know when I'd see him again. Hours? A week? It was too late to think about it.
The man checked my temperature and waved me toward a security guard who checked my bags. A strap of a sports bra fell out; he asked me to push it back, so he wouldn't have to touch it with his gloves. I couldn't see his mouth, but I knew he was smiling at me, trying to be kind.
The first man buzzed me through a door. I didn't see a single patient anywhere. I sat in a blue metal wheelchair and gave my name and date of birth to two nurses. All my records were there; I didn't even have to show ID. Questions. I used the word ideation. One of the nurses gave me a standard hospital bracelet and another that was neon pink with reflective gold. She called someone to ask where to take me.
We walked through the ED and then into something like a vault. I saw a woman in a hospital gown poised like a child in the hallway. A security guard in blue and a nurse with a leopard-print headwrap took me to a nearby room. "Have you been here before?" the nurse asked. Her face seemed to soften when I said no. The guard wanded me and then left.
The nurse closed the door and held up a hospital gown while I undressed. She helped me put on two gowns, one in front and one in back, and hospital socks. She took my rings and the purple and blush hair ties on my wrists. We put everything in paper bags, and the security guard came back for them. I went to the lockless restroom across the hall to give a urine sample for drug screenings and a pregnancy test.
Then it was just me, in a cell with a rounded plastic platform under a sarcophagus-shaped mattress with a fitted sheet and top sheet, and an automatic sink. I drank room-temperature water from my hands. Lithium makes me wildly thirsty all the time.
I was totally alone, and everything was gone. I wished I had tattoos, something to trace, to see, to remember, some evidence of my personality. I sat up on the bed as long as I could, and then, I lay on my side, facing the open door. A nurse pointed out something like a pillow next to the sink, and I thanked him. I was grateful that I was across from the bathroom; I always knew if it were open. I prepared myself for walk-ins since the door had no lock, but it didn't happen (not to me, anyway). I held my hands under the warm water of the automatic sink for a few extra seconds.
A GP doctor saw me briefly and asked about my medications.
The nurse with the leopard-print headwrap stopped and looked at me. "Do you need anything?"
I didn't know what I could ask for. "Can I have some water?"
"Sure. You want anything else? Crackers? Applesauce? Sandwich?"
"No thank you."
She came back with a 32-ounce triangular measuring cup (probably for measuring urine) with plenty of ice. "This was the closest I could find to your water bottle. I remember how big it is." I nearly burst into tears from the kindness. "If you need anything else, and you see me walk by, just let me know." I prayed her shifts would correspond with my stay.
The ice was small and crunchy, almost like Sonic's. But I saved it and quickly refilled the cup from the sink. I felt calm. I had enough cool water to last another hour or so.
A psych nurse talked to me. I knew I should get used to saying the same things over and over. He took notes on his blue glove. He said he would order a lithium level. I would see the psychiatrist, but he didn't know if it would be that night or in the morning. Yes, I was okay with staying overnight (as if I had a choice at that point). I kept lying back down but popped up every time someone seemed to be stopping for me.
Another nurse came in with a security guard and drew my blood. She said my veins were deep, but she got one on the first try.
I felt...safe. Even if those thoughts came back full force, even if they hypnotized me, I could not hurt myself if I wanted to. The traitor part of my brain argued, but I reasoned that nothing would work. I was bored and lonely but safe. I worried about Josh, Oliver, and Bruce. Had Josh gone home? Was he still waiting? Had Bruce gotten home? How would Oliver react to my being gone? But those thoughts faded because I could do nothing for any of them. I couldn't even do anything for myself. They would have to figure it out without me.
I fell asleep but woke often. One of the security guards right outside my door told loud stories well into the night. At one point, I heard a man arguing loudly with a nurse.
"You're going to kick me out when I haven't even seen the doctor yet?"
"I'll lock you in your room."
"I'll piss on the door."
"If you do that, sir, you will clean it up. I promise you, you will clean it up."
I heard a struggle, then quiet, then an explosion of nervous laughter from the staff. I was so cold that I took my arm out of my gown and huddled under it. Since I had a cup, I drank water from the sink. I only asked for water once or twice in the night, and I was bummed to get two small Styrofoam cups instead of a big plastic one. But I relished the ice and refilled my cups before it all melted. I wished for a clock.
I knew it was morning because I sat up, and a staff member pointed out my breakfast next to the sink. I was thrilled to see a tiny 4-ounce peel-back cup of apple juice with it. I drank that all at once. Inside the Styrofoam box were scrambled eggs, a sausage patty, and a puddle of white gravy. Everything was rubbery, and I gave up after a few bites.
My hair was in need of a wash, and it was tangled. I tried to part it and braided it into two tight braids. I've never been good at anything involving hair. I didn't have my hair ties, so I let the braids slowly unravel. But my hair stayed mostly in place for a while. My head still ached.
One night down.
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