Three Nights in Purgatory: Night Three.

I quickly got up, surprised to see so many people. I walked among them out of the vault, out of the ED, and out to a van. They told me where to get in. They were carrying paper bags of my belongings. I huddled close to the window. They were calling out instructions on what to do with me, so I guess one person was training. Still, it seemed like a crowd to transport me. I tried not to think about what sort of roommate I'd have. How nice? How sick? How social? I hoped for very, not very, and not very. One nurse talked for a long time about how this van used to belong to her department but disappeared for "repairs" and never returned. 

We arrived at a small, two-story building. They let me out and all confirmed, "Level 1," with each other. I assumed that meant that I was well-enough behaved to be on the regular floor rather than an even more locked-down ward. 

The halls, walls, and doors looked fairly new, and I eagerly spotted twin water fountains. I hoped I would have access to them if I needed them. My entourage told me that so far, I didn't have roommate. This was good. I wouldn't have to worry about it, and it meant that the ward wasn't crowded; the nurses might not be too busy or overwrought. 

The transport team dropped my bags off at the nurse's station and disappeared as if they'd never been there. Two nurses spoke to me as I stood awkwardly in my hospital gowns. One of them took my bags, and I wondered if I'd actually see any of what I'd packed. The other took me back down the hall to a small, hot room. She asked all the questions. She asked if I were interested in men or women, which I don't remember anyone's asking me before. She had to check every bit of skin, so I cooperated, and she made note of a bruise on my thigh. I didn't know how I'd gotten it. 

She walked me back to the nurse's station and a room directly beside it. It was a fairly spacious room with many windows covered with semi-transparent screens. I could see the other patients out on a patio having group therapy. I hoped they couldn't see me. The room had two wooden beds, and I noticed that these each had a white blanket as well as a sheet. The nurse directed me to the bed closer to the window. Beside each bed was a blue rubber tub with a lid. The nurse said it was for dirty clothes, but I could also use it as a nightstand. Open wooden shelves stood in one corner. She gestured to clean hospital gowns and a hygiene kit at the foot of the bed. Flimsy toothbrush, toothpaste, roll-on deodorant, and a brittle black comb. She pointed to a door with a slanted opening at the top so that someone could look in. That was the bathroom, and I could take a shower if I wanted. A shower!

So I did, after drinking from the sink. I hoped the dispenser in the shower wouldn't run out of soap because it was all I had. My long hair required a lot. Even though it wasn't specially formulated, that soap felt good on my face. When I felt totally clean, I dressed, figuring out the snaps on the gowns, and brushed my teeth hard. Then, I sat down on the bed with the comb. I had no conditioner, no leave-in conditioner, and no brush. My hair is unruly. But I settled in and started at the ends, combing one small section at a time. Eventually, my hair was basically detangled. 

I went to the nurse's station and asked if I could call my husband. The nurse pointed to a phone around the corner but said I would have to wait until group was over. I hoped there wouldn't be a rush for the phone. He made me happy though--he held up two large handfuls of cloth. Clothes! He said I was allowed to have three of each item. As I took the clothes, he pointed to a skimpy tank top with a built-in bra and said I could only wear it under another shirt. "You can have both pairs of shoes," he said. The nurse who had checked me in said, "Look at those slippers!" I didn't remember slippers; I only remembered the dark blue slip-ons I'd arrived in. But there they were, hot pink slippers with little silver polka dots. I said a sort of prayer of thanks to my past self who'd packed that bag.

I actually remembered very little about what was in the bag, But I unrolled three pairs of high-waisted black leggings and three long-sleeve V-neck shirts in teal blue, fuchsia, and purple. I'd even chosen good colors and anticipated that the ward would be cold. Even the unders were in pretty colors. But then, I had a terrible thought. Thanks primarily to lithium and other medications, I weighed a lot more now than I did when I made that trip to Target. But luckily, everything was stretchy and fit fine. I took leggings, unders, a sports bra, and the teal blue top into the bathroom (still unsure about those windows) and came out feeling so different. I wasn't wearing familiar clothes, but I had chosen them, they were soft, and I was wearing color. I was wearing clean clothes. Even wearing a bra felt good! I put on the cute slippers. Pink plus polka dots? I can be really kind to myself sometimes.

By then, group had ended, and people were filtering back inside. I saw one thin woman in a pretty set of printed pajamas (a pair I might buy), and she had her blanket over her shoulders. I walked by a young man in red and black as I went to the water fountain. The shorter one was disappointing, but the taller one was colder and had better pressure. Good to know. 

I noticed a big clock by the nurse's station--what a relief to know the time! I had probably arrived at the ward around 11 a.m. I asked again to call Josh, and the nurse dialed the number for me. I told Josh where I was and asked him to call Mom for me because it was almost lunch time. Josh still sounded pretty good. I was grateful to him for being okay when I wasn't.

But actually, I was kind of okay. The thoughts were gone. I didn't feel particularly safe...because I didn't need to. I could imagine going home. 

I was hungry, and I didn't know what to expect. The common area was small with three tables and plastic lawn chairs, a plastic-y loveseat, cabinets, a shielded TV, and a white board reminding us to be kind to ourselves. The room wasn't crowded. I noticed one girl with a blond braid and wondered why she got to have a hair tie.  A movie with Robert DeNiro came on the TV, and I half watched it. I love movies, so I gravitated toward the opportunity to watch one. And I was rewarded because Jamie Harrold, on whom I long had an uncomfortable crush (and watched several movies just for his small roles in them), had a part! That just made me laugh to myself. Our food came to us--covered black plastic trays this time. We stood in line at a cart for drinks. I was excited to have ginger ale again.

I was amazed at how much food there was. I had a small salad, cut cantaloupe and honeydew, a grilled chicken sandwich, and large broccoli with garlic. I ate everything. The dressing choices were limited, but I was fine without dressing, and I was especially excited about that one slice of cucumber. The fruit was good though not usually favorites. The sandwich was good, and broccoli is my favorite vegetable. I was showered, dressed, and well-fed--better off than I'd been in two days. 

The girl with the braid was reading a paperback novel. I wondered how on earth she got such a treasure. So I wouldn't seem too isolated, I found two issues of Elle Decor on a cabinet and paged through them in the common room. 

A general doctor arrived and took me to that same tiny, hot room. My blood tests had been fine. After a quick check-up, I think we promptly forgot each other.

I went back to my room, having passed the guy in red and black again on my way to the water fountain. I realized he was pacing the halls, which made a lot of sense. I sat down on my bed and stretched. Then, I lay on my side and just folded the blanket over me. At one point, the nurse came in and asked if I wanted to go outside. I said, "No, thank you," and went back to sleep. I was comfortable.

When I woke up, it was nearly dinner time. I asked for water, and the nurse told me to use the water fountain. He seemed to think better of it and offered me a cup, which I took. I passed the guy pacing again, and I also passed a girl pacing. I filled my cup and drank it three or four times. The pacing girl stopped. 

"Hi, I know you're drinking your water."

"Hi."

"I'm A. How are you?"

"I'm Becky. I'm...I'm okay."

"Just having a rest?"

I paused, thinking about the long nap I'd had in the quiet, partial darkness. "Yes."

"Me too. Well, it was nice to meet you."

"It was nice to meet you too, A."

The nurse told me that my mom had called while I was asleep. He called Josh first by mistake, so I talked to him. Then, I talked to Mom. I told her about A. I wasn't crying.

I got my own little plastic water pitcher with ice. I brought that with me along with a full cup of water fountain water to the common room. A was sitting where I had sat at lunch. Her hair was pulled back (where were they getting these hair ties?), and she was wearing a yellow striped shirt, black capris, and red laceless sneakers. I gestured to the chair across from her. 

"Is anyone sitting here?"

She grinned. "Yes! You!"

I smiled and sat down. Then, I looked at the TV. Deep Blue Sea was already in progress. 

"I love this movie!" I said to no one in particular, and I watched it.

The main dish was some kind of meatloaf that did not look or smell appetizing. So I ate mashed potatoes, a side salad, and a great many canned peaches. Two people offered me their peaches, but we weren't supposed to share. I drank Sierra Mist, which just isn't the same as Sprite. 

The girl with the braid and an older man played chess. The girl with the braid (I should have asked her name) invited A to play. A said she didn't know how but agreed to learn. The girl with the braid said it helped pass the time. I was still watching the shark movie. The nurse asked me to fill out a meal sheet, making selections. I did so for the next day, and he said, "Did you need help with this?" I didn't realize he wanted me to do it for the whole week. So I did, even though the thought made me a little sick.

When the movie ended, I was already tired again. I brushed my teeth, filled up my pitcher and cup at the water fountain, and unmade my bed. I made a mental note to wake in time for breakfast. I think I only got up once for more water.

When I woke up, I walked into the hall and checked the time. I didn't have time to shower, but I was up in time for breakfast. I went back to my room and stretched. 

In the common room, I sat in the same seat and looked for A but didn't see her. It was strange--I didn't see her at lunch, and I didn't see her at breakfast. Part of me wondered if she had been real. Maybe I just really needed someone to be nice to me. 

I saw the man from the ED, the one who had been disruptive and refused to wash his hands. He was totally silent. I wonder if someone threatened him with Level 2. 

A nurse came around with drinks. I had my water, but I asked for a milk and two apple juices, and I got them! I drank happily and ate my oatmeal and banana (the nurse couldn't believe that was all I'd asked for, but I'm not used to eating breakfast). 

A social worker with curly hair and a navy T-shirt dress took me back to that tiny room. Questions. I asked her what would happen next. Today was Sunday, so I'd been hoping I'd get released on Monday. She said a psychiatrist would come see me. 

I waited around and stretched for a while. I had a little time before group, which I was not looking forward to. I didn't want to talk, and I didn't want much more to listen. I didn't know what I'd hear. But I needed to fill the time. I'd decided on the fuchsia top and was just about to take a shower when the psychiatrist walked in. 

He asked me why I hadn't seen a psychiatrist the day before; I explained that I'd seen one  in the ED. He asked why I was in the ED for two nights; I said they were short-staffed. He said, "It's not great here, but it's better than the ED." I nodded. He, too, said that I was on a good set of medication, and he didn't want to change it. I thought, I'm out of danger, so if you're not going to adjust my meds, what are you doing for me?

I asked, "What happens next?"

Surprisingly, he asked me what I thought. I said I felt better, I felt safe, and I had a lot of family support. 

He said, "I don't want to keep you here for no reason. Let me talk to the rest of the team."

I was surprised but tried not to get too excited. What would the social worker and the nurses say about me?

I went back to stretching. Then, I went to the common room and watched some rotten sitcom. I didn't see anyone else. 

Then, the psychiatrist said, "Rebecca."

I looked up.

"You're all set."

"For today?"

"Today. You can talk to the nurses about a more specific timeline."

I thanked him. A day earlier than I'd hoped! 

The nurse who'd first checked me in went over my wallet and the record of its contents, right down to 77 cents. I signed some discharge papers, and she gave me a list of resources. 

The other nurse said, "It's time,"

I was shocked. "I should call my husband?" I'd expected the process to take hours.

I called Josh, who didn't sound so okay. I didn't know if he'd feel better or worse when I said, "Can you come get me?"

But he immediately said yes, no question. 

The check-in nurse unlocked a closet, and we brought out my bags. We consolidated them, and I brought out the rest of my clothes. I striped my bed, brought out the laundry, and threw away everything else. I had no desire to keep that flimsy toothbrush. 

The nurse stopped me and looked at me. "Do you want to go?"

"Yes."

My phone still had a little charge. The nurse took me outside with my bags and wished me well. I thanked her for being so kind to me when I needed it so much. I texted Bruce, "I'm on the outside." The psychiatrist waved to me as he walked to his car.

Then, my little Honda pulled up, and there were Josh and Oliver and the rest of the world.