Thursday, 26 March 2015

Overdosing, Running & Struggling

On Sunday, I had the best intentions. I thought, 'I'll take myself to A&E, I'll sit and have the treatment, and I'll come home the next day."
I think that the admissions when I have these good intentions, tend to be the ones that end up being the worst! Irony.
In all honesty, this is another overdose and admission that I can't properly remember; partly due to the fact I disassociated for a lot of it, and party due to all of the medication they gave me in hospital!
Basics are that I took lots of paracetamol over about 24-26 hours, and took the bus to one of our local A&Es. I booked myself in, waited to be triaged and waited to be called through to majors. I was put into a room as there were no beds and they attempted to take blood tests but once again, my veins weren't playing ball. And this is where it gets hazy; for some reason I cut myself and then for some other reason I ran off. I remember telling a Doctor that I was really struggling to it there and showed him the cuts and he said 'oh shit!' And then I remember standing at the bus stop and two security from hospital coming and I was praying and praying that the bus would hurry up because they were telling me that they'd called the Police but I knew they couldn't physically do anything as I was outside of the Hospital grounds, and then my bus came! I was on it for a little while and it occurred to me that the security would tell the police what bus I'd got on and they'd likely assume I was going to it's final destination; so I got off early. I didn't know where I was or where I was going or what I was going to do. I decided to just begin walking and to stay off the main roads and out of the street lights. I remember coming across a bush and thinking that I could have a lie down in it (it was now stupid o'clock in the morning) and keep a watch on the roads for passing police cars. Something that helped me process my thoughts and come to the conclusion that I'd ring the non-emergency number and tell them where I was, was vlogging. I like to think that my blog AND vlogs gives others some insight into areas in which they may have none e.g. I filmed inside the psychiatric hospital when I was last sectioned. So, I vlogged as I was walking about. 
The Police took me back to A&E and the rest is pretty blurry other than me refusing to have the necessary life-saving treatment, a Doctor being sent in with cookies and juice to convince me to accept it, the police changing three times until I had disgraceful stigma-holding officers sat with me and me trying to make a run for it. In the end, I found out that the horrible police would leave if I had the treatment so I told a nurse that I would accept it and oh my gosh they couldn't have acted any quicker! I found out that they'd just gotten permission from my Mum to put me to sleep so lucky escape, I guess. AND, once the officers has scrounged some food and brews from the ward, (now who's the waste of services and time?!) they left.
From the time when the Police returned me to A&E until my next memory, I was give several doses of Diazepam so it's all a bit hazy but I remember that the line in my arm that they were using for the treatment was hurting but they were adamant it was working and refused to take it out, so I took it out. And then the anaesthetists came along with hospital security but I told them that I'd let them put another line in so security left and I was given more diazepam. I remember lying there and feeling them lying sheets over my arm and when I looked I saw a tray with their equipment in and a pair of scissors and I asked what the scissors were four and was told they were going to stitch the line in place. Then I got upset that they'd been sneaky about it and weren't going to tell me they were doing that. I agreed to co-operate if they agreed not to put stitches in. I later found out that the line they'd put in was an arterial one but they'd put it in a vein and that they were usually stitched into place.
I spent the rest of the day sleeping and distracting myself to make the time away from Dolly bearable. When it got to night-time, I was struggling again and I took myself for a little wander around the Hospital before coming back to the ward in tears and being given yet more sedatives. 
My treatment finally finished at 1pm on Tuesday and after a quick mental health assessment and blood tests I was free to go! 
Looking back, I regret overdosing and I regret running off. I didn't benefit from it in any way. In the past overdosing silenced the voices temporarily but there was no real rationale behind this overdose. It just... Happened. It was horrible being treat like shit by the Police. It was horrible being stabbed at with needles by Doctors. It was horrible barely being able to stay awake on Wednesday with the culmative affect of all of the Diazepam. It was horrible being away from Dolly and my home for so long. It was horrible upsetting the people I love by what I did.
Since being discharged, I've used the time to think about why I'm struggling so much at the minute and I think it's the trauma. That being back in the area where it happened, and discussing it so much has brought it back to the surface and made it raw again. 

I've uploaded my vlogs from this overdose and admission, you can watch it here: 

P.S. I have also filmed my first proper sit-down and talk video (TW) for my YouTube channel: