Documenting my journey through the mental health system

I will just lay here and die. That is the last thing I thought as I was put into my suicide blanket after being forced to put on the suicide smock. I will just lay here and wait to die.

“Five minute room checks while awake, 15 minute room checks while asleep, and we sweep the room each hour for any dangerous objects,” the nurse who had condemned me to my suicide smock was talking while standing over me, telling another nurse what was going on, what I had said, what they had done in response. I laid there…my eyes were open, I could see, I could hear…but I could not move.

She went on. “His labs showed testosterone levels that are through the roof. I’ve never seen it that high. It might explain some of his feeling and behavior.” She looked down at me. ‘Angel, do you understand what I’m saying?”

I was unable to look at her or otherwise respond in some way. My whole body was shut down. I was seeing stars and black holes in the ceiling. I thought the black hole was going to suck me in. I waited for it.

“He hasn’t slept more than a few hours each night, in addition to nightly sleepwalking, in a few days. I think he’s having some symptoms of psychosis.”

“Angel? Angel?” The second nurse tapped my shoulder, shaking me a little. I didn’t even blink. “How long has he been nonresponsive?”

“Since we medicated him for significant distress and agitation and laid him down a couple hours ago,” the first nurse replied. “He hasn’t moved or spoken since then.”

“I’ll tell the doctor. He’s going into catatonia.”

They took my vital signs. They shined lights in my eyes. They talked to me, looking into my eyes imploringly. I looked right through them. I could not do anything as I laid there. More people coming in and out of my room. The doctor talking with a couple nurses standing over me, wrapped up in my smock and blanket. Saying for now I’d be left alone, the next day would reassess and use medication to wake me up if necessary.

Constant room checks. Checks to see if I was responsive. At some point I stop remembering, I believe I fell asleep or lost consciousness at some point in the day. My eyes opened in the evening and I stared at the black hole in the ceiling, waiting for it to swallow me up.

Staff came in again. Lowered the blanket and opened the smock – I had wet the bed and urinated on myself. I didn’t remember this and there was nothing I could do while I was stripped, cleaned, and wrapped up in the spot-cleaned suicide smock again. I didn’t even care, I could not move, my body would not respond.

A long day and night ensued. Shift change occurred and a small crowd hovered at my door. Valentino, the incredibly good looking MHT, roughly my age, peered down at me. The day shift MHT and nurse was telling him what had happened.

“They had to put him on increased suicide precautions for suicidal intent. He’s in the smock, as you can see. He has not been responsive most of the day and was incontinent earlier. He just stares. Five minute room checks.”

“He’s catatonic but the doctor wants him to try to come out of it on his own before using pharmacologic interventions.”

I remember everything. Every sound, every slamming door, every room check, every face that hovered over mine, the wet sponge they put in my mouth when it dried out, while I laid there, unable to move.