Documenting my journey through the mental health system

Well that didn’t take long.

At first I was a rock star. I came on the floor and it was a madhouse. There were several call lights at once and an incoming admit. I answered the lights and attempted to seek out the person I was relieving to get a report. The admit came, alcoholic encephalopathy, and he was combative and confused. But I had him, I took care of him…he had an incontinent BM episode and everyone was looking at me to take charge. So I did…I instructed everyone on getting him moved to the room’s bed from the gurney. I told one person to go get the bed pads and wipes. We moved him, and I proceeded to quickly prepare the old sheets and pads for removal, wiped him down, and prepared the new sheets and bed pads. I wanted it all done in one roll. I talked to him, held his hand…he didn’t open his eyes much and was moaning, grabbing, and putting two IV placements at risk. We got him cleaned up and put up the side rails. He was curled on his side, still moaning and clearly in pain. I talked to him, said his name, comforted him. He was calming down. Then security came and forced him on his back and tied him down with locking violent restraints.

I was both triggered and pissed. I immediately left the room when security came in. I had him calm…he was restless, but he wasn’t grabbing at his IVs. Then they come in and get him all agitated again.

And I am so badly triggered. My heart is racing, and my skin is flushed, and my breath is short. They are the same locking restraints in which I’ve spent so much time myself. My mind keeps taking me back in time with every cry he yells out. I still remember the night I spent strapped down in a psychiatric unit, psychotic, paranoid, and suicidal. Still very fresh in my mind is last summer, in which I was brought into the hospital by the police. I tried to run and security at the hospital wrestled me onto a bed and restrained me to it. I struggled, screamed, cried, begged. They left me like that, telling me it wasn’t a punishment, it was to keep me safe. I still sobbed regardless, struggling and angry.

I don’t know what’s going to happen with my reasonable accommodation request now. I’ve already worked with the patient; I’ve just cleaned him up again from incontinence. The nurse didn’t know how to close the metal flap that only opens with a key. I felt sick that I knew it, and had to help them close the metal pieces down. I still feel sick, absolutely sick to my stomach. I went to my car at lunch and cried.