Orientation, May 17th, 2011

Have you ever found yourself in an unfamiliar situation?  What did you do to stay grounded?  Did you pray? Journal? Smoke? Eat? Did you talk to people; maybe try to introduce yourself or find out what you had in common?   This morning, I woke up in room 3425 at GBMC.  Tonight, It looks like I’ll fall asleep at Sheppard-Pratt.  I ordered two scrambled eggs (whites only) and some toast.  They sent me a V8 and an orange juice, too.  Mandy came to visit me, and brought her mom with her.  My neighbors came by, too.  They brought a lap blanket—a small crocheted blanket.  I had given this very blanket to their daughter when she was sick.  They gave it back to me to comfort me; to ground me.  I looked at it for a long time after they left; it seems like so long ago.  It brought tears to my eyes.Then, the Deacon from St. Joseph’s came by to visit; he brought the new deacon, too.  They joked about the tubes hooked to my arm, and talked about work.  They told me I look better, and that my color is better.  Do I look better?  I feel better.  I never realized how tiring it is to have visitors.  I am very tired when they all have finally left.  A little while later, the psychiatrist from GBMC came by to chat.  She explained to me how the program was set up, and we talked for about an hour.  I asked her questions about how the place was set up, the room, what clothes I would need.  What could I bring with me.  Things like that. She had a lot of forms for me to look at—and sign.  There was a voluntary committal form, and a couple of forms having to do with my health insurance.  The move, I was told, would happen this afternoon.She asked me if I had eaten lunch.  No, I said.  I would order something up from the kitchen after we were finished talking.I noted in my journal that I feel better today than I did yesterday.  I really don’t think that I would have been able to do this journal last week.  I am anxious, though, and thoughts pthrough my mind: Will I be happier?  Will my mind be clearer?  Will I be able to exercise like I used to?  Will my clothes fit me?  Will I get fat?I take some deep breaths, and make some notes about stuff I want to do:I want to go to Tahitu, that Ethiopian place in Frederick.  I want to go to Blue Moon in Finksburg for a beer.  I want to be able to see my family in Rehoboth beach.  I want to walk through Charles village.  I want to go outside for a cigarette.I am overcome by the desire to take a bike ride.I decide to open the window.  My room is in the older part of the hospital, and the cat windows are not fixed shut.  I close my door, and open the window.  The weather outside is nice, and the breeze feels good.  Nurses come in and out, and nobody says anything about the window.  Eventually, though, one of the doctors comes in, and tells me that the window needs to stay shut.  Lunch arrives:  Two bananas, a bowl of soup (en noodle), a milk, and 2 V8 juices.  I have been over-ordering V8 and bananas, which are fresh and wonderful here.  I currently have four bananas and 6 cans of V8 in my overnight bag.  The nurse comes around to weigh me, and take my vitals:  I weigh 113.5 pounds, and my blood pressure is 85/59.  My temperature is 97 degrees.  At 2 pm, another nurse comes in to tell me that I will be leaving shortly.  I have a shower in my room, and I decide to take a quick shower, and change.  I pack my things into the overnight bag, and wait.  Two young guys wearing “Pro-Care Ambulance” uniforms come by, and tell me that it’s time to leave.  It’s crazy.  They tell me that I am going to be moved by stretcher.  I walked into this place, and can certainly walk out.  They tell me that it’s an insurance thing.  They put me on this stretcher, and I feel ridiculous.  They wheel me through the hospital, and outdoors to the ambulance.  It literally takes longer to get through the hospital than it does to get to Sheppard.  I am told that there will be a long wait.I am wheeled into a large white-walled room.  A lady makes small-talk with the guys from the ambulance company.  I ask them if they do this run frequently.  They tell me that they are here, most days, three or four times.  I am wheeled into a “bay”; a large room where the stretcher can sit.  I see other people in similar bays as I am being wheeled in.  There are large signs on the walls having to do with hospital procedures and policies.  I am given a handbook, and told to sign a form indicating that I have received the handbook.About forty minutes have passed.  At his point, I am wheeled upstairs to the main entrance of the eating disorders unit.  The ambulance people unhook me from the stretcher, and they leave.  I am met by a very nice lady who welcomes me to the unit.  We walk down the hall; me with my bag and handbook, and she with a clipboard with a pile of papers.  I am told that the interview/intake process takes about an hour.  We walk down to a room that looks to be a dining room.  She asks me if I would like something to eat.  I am not hungry, but I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot, so to speak.  She gives me a small snack:  a yogurt, a bag of pretzels, and a can of pineapple juice.  As I am sitting there, she goes over some preliminary questions. No, I have never been in the hospital.  No, I am not feeling anxious enough to require medicine.  I won’t need nicotine patches, at least not yet.  What exactly are ‘safety issues’, I ask?  There is a lot to learn.  Someone comes by and takes the remains of the food packaging.  We inventory my valuables, which are placed in a heavy plastic bag.  One leather and fabric wallet containing a Maryland driver’s license, one American Express card, one student ID card, One NAACP membership card, one Cigna insurance card, and a $20 bill.  One silver lighter.  One cigarette case containing 18 cigarettes.  One set of keys.  She gives me a receipt for these things, and takes the bag away.  Then, she returns along with a man.  We walk down the hall and into a small examining room.  He is going to strip search me, he says.  “Why?” I ask.  “To check for tattoos, piercings, scars, and/or cuts.”  Scars and/or cuts, I ask?  Any evidence of self-harm, he says.  I am checked from head to toe, an experience which I am not used to.  He is very sterile and distant.  I wonder when the last time was when another guy saw me unclothed.  I think back to doctor’s appointments and when I had a car accident many years ago and had to go to the hospital.  All of my remaining “non-valuables” like my bag, and clothes are taken.  We will be looking through these items shortly, I am told.The man notes that I have several burn marks on my left wrist, a fact that causes consternation from himself and the nurse.  I explain that these are from a work-related incident about a year prior.  I see him writing, and ask what is being noted.  A note, he says, is made in my chart about this.  Then, we go through the bag.  Half of my clothes are deemed inappropriate.  The sweatshirt has a hood, the shorts have too many pockets.  My purloined bananas must be disposed of (I cannot keep them, and they will perish).  My journal has a wire binding.  I ask how I may be able to keep the journal.  The man tells me that I can keep the journal if I remove the wire binding.  I take the spiral apart, and rubber-band the book together.  I will need to find some string to deal with this.  Ultimately, this becomes a very good thing; because it allows me to insert more pages into the journal easily.  All of my pens are taken, except for one.  All of the stuff that is taken is inventoried and put into a storage closet, along with the bag itself.I am taken down the hall, and given two pairs of pants (scrub bottoms) two long-sleeved shirts (blue), and two pairs of hospital socks. I am shown my room, which I am told I will share with another person.  There is a bookcase with no drawers.  I am told to put my clothes on it.  Then, I am taken to a large, sunny day room, and again I am told to wait.  I am told that someone will meet me there shortly.  I am told not to use the bathroom when the bathroom break is announced. I sit on a comfortable chair, and watch as a young girl of about 12 or 13 probably, assembles a large, colorful puzzle on the floor.  It is of a waterfall and a dolphin and the sea.  There are a lot of aquas and blues and peaches and pinks.  It reminds me of another time, a time when I was younger, and we would go to Saint Petersburg in Florida for Christmas.  I miss these times magnificently at the moment.  A lady comes into the room, and attaches to my wrist a “hang tag” a blue plastic wrist band with my name, date of admission, date of birth, and patient number typed on it.  It is now 4:45, and I am told that I may have 5 minutes to use the bathroom.  Supervised.  Dinner will be at 5:15.  It will be rice, peas, and a piece of unseasoned baked en .  This, unfortunately, is not optional.I am surprised at the fact that I am hungry.

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