9

Day five in the worst public psych ward I’ve encountered; everywhere smells of urine, even the bedroom. The people are mostly scary and I only have escorted leave, which makes the beautiful park with big, old trees across the road inaccessible. Since Friday attempts have been made at getting me into a private hospital, but they have no beds. The hospital I usually go to were unwilling to take me back, but my doctor might have talked them round, I’ll find out this afternoon.

A little backstory:

On Tuesday night, following the tradition of the previous two nights I cut my leg – a lot. I went to see random GP #873 incase I needed sutures and because I was feeling quite suicidal. She was reluctant to let me go home so sent for an ambulance to take me to the local emergency department. There I had my wounds dresses, received a tetanus shot and spoke with the psych triage nurse for a while. At 4am I caught a taxi home with the instructions to arrange a private admission in the morning.

Admission organized, bed available same day, arrived at 5pm. I saw my doctor around 8 and we planned how we would settle me down and prepare me for starting uni on Monday – which I was terrified of. We decided I’d bring my car to the hospital and when Monday came I would go to uni from the hospital and return after my classes. Good plan; until I destroyed it. Thursday came and, having been granted leave I went out for coffee and some shopping, I was very proud to have purchased a medium sized jumper and I bought two pairs of the same shoes for teaching rounds – one in beige, the other black. I can’t find shoes I both like and find comfortable, so leave me alone! As I was out and about my mood slowly dropped dropped dropped until I thought the approaching tram looked like a good end to my pain. I decided the tram was too slow and would seriously injure, but not kill me. I looked at the skyline, noticing plenty of tall buildings I could leap from, none of them accessible. Some flats have recently been built opposite the hospital and I was pretty sure they had balconies. I made my way back to the hospital on the wrong side of the road from what should have been my destination. Timidly I entered the estate and assessed which of the buildings would best meet my needs. I chose one of the new ones towards the back of the estate. Surely though I wouldn’t be able to get up there, there would be a swipe card system or pin so only residents and guests could get up there – no. The lift comes, overcoming my fear of lifts I enter and push “9”, the top level. The doors open onto a windy passage with doors on one side and a drop on the other. I stand leaning on the railing assessing the drop. I am not afraid; I can jump. Something in me thinks there’s a better option that I don’t have to jump. So I call the hospital and ask to speak to my contact nurse, hoping she can tell me what this better option is. She tells me to come down. No. She calls the police. I continue to assess the drop, throwing my new shoes and jumper over the edge just to watch them fall, acknowledging that I would fall much faster but still just wanting to see something go over the edge. They drift to the left and land with a thud. It is very quiet, there is no one around for them to land on.

A police man exits the lift and starts to talk to me. I just look over the rail, I could jump, I’m not afraid I’m not angry I’m not upset. I am nothing. The police man’s partner joins us. After a while we all go down in the lift, I pick up my shoes, which are fine, and we go for a ride in a police car to an interesting hospital. I am put in a grey room with nothing but a bed. A security guard sits by the door with my possessions, I’m allowed my phone, not that there is any reception but the games help pass the five hours. I talk to two friends on a phone given to me by a nurse. Psychiatric assessment by someone. Sent up to the psych ward where I remain.