Here I am in
hospital again; I arrived on Saturday following three days of panicked medical
practitioners and a visit from the CAT team (really it should just be CAT,
because the T stands for team, but it sounds incomplete without adding team on
the end). I am very fortunate to be here, after the incident in my last private
admission I should be black-listed, but they agreed to take me on the condition
that I have no leave - which I am fine with as I don’t trust myself out and
about anyway. Precipitating my admission was an overwhelming sense of
hopelessness, which is still present, a very detailed and certain to work
suicide plan and severe social phobia. The suicide plan still exists, the only
reason I’m not bent on carrying it out is that my mother has already lost her
husband this year, and perhaps losing her daughter so soon would be unpleasant.
I can’t win with the social phobia, I get extremely lonely, but the idea of
being around people is terrifying. One-on-ones are fine, but only my mother has
been to visit. The dining room is hard, so many people talking at once, and I
can’t always get a table to myself. Unlike Vic Clinic – which I’m now banned
from – this hospital is mostly private rooms, and they’re quite nice, so
staying in my room is not the grim experience it is at Vic Clinic.
Medication-wise;
I’m withdrawing from Zoloft, which sucks; re-introduced to Valium, which takes
the edge off the terror of venturing into the dining room and therapy groups.
My psychiatrist hasn’t yet decided whether to start me on a new anti-depressant
or to see how I go without, since historically they tend to make me worse, but
do improve my anxiety. ECT is unlikely because of the damage it has inflicted
on my memory, I’m willing to have it though because I figure the damage is
done, so why not ruin it some more. (Plus I really like the anesthetic).
That’s all for
this update.
