I would just like to make an observation. I am AMAZED at all the positive experiences that many of you had in an in-patient psych ward. you are very very lucky.

my last hospitalization (--this past March--i was psychotic and majorly depressed, no sense of reality, dissociating badly, but NOT SI). the crisis hotline i had called sent a supreme a**hole to evaluate me in a lockdown room in ER. he said i was suicidal and i was 1013'd (meaning i would get a police escort if i protested) to an unfamiliar hospital over 200 miles away. somebody could have told me to fly and i would have, i had lost all will to make choices or even speak much, i just did what i was told, could barely see through the tears.

lots of paperwork of course, but then the he** began. the pdoc there put me on meds i TOLD him i couldn't take and i spent 11 days throwing up and diarrhea, semi-seizures on one, and extreme swelling on another. one that i still don't know what it was made me temporarily deaf and staggering. and this was his therapy: he would come in my (shared) simple, uncomfortable bed, room, prop his foot on the chair, ask a couple of questions, make a note, and leave. one time he actually did this to me in the tv area in front of other patients.

i would wake up at night with my roommate standing by my bed, nude. nobody listened when i told them. by this time i was scared sh**less and just wanted to leave.

we had to go get our own meds, which were always handed out late, as much as 2 hours. the only groups (maybe 1 a day if we were lucky) were embarrassing, they must've been written with a 3rd grade mentality in mind, but they were required. the only time in my life i was glad i had diarrhea so i could leave group with a valid excuse.

most of the guinea pigs (other patients) were so doped up they could barely raise their heads from the uncomfortable chairs around the one TV in the day area. forget crafts, laptops, board games, table tennis, pool table, music. that would assume we had interests or could occupy our time constructively. and the only time we were allowed outside to a very small fenced in area was when the smokers got their smoke break.

i couldn't even do my own laundry, the aides did them at night, then we would get them back stuffed unfolded and wrinkled in a paper bag.

no glass, strings or sharp objects of course, nothing we could hurt ourselves with. that was the only thing that made sense.

finally, i was so scared that i faked being well to escape that place. i later wrote the pdoc a long letter telling him what i had been through and i never got a bill from him, not one. the hospital either, i haven't heard from them either after i wrote them too. (their fee was $1,500 a day, and for what, i have no clue--maybe for the lousy meds, room and meals? i should have gone to the Bahamas)

please, i don't mean to scare anybody. i guess i'm just one of those unfortunate people that fell through the cracks my whole life. i've only had two decent pdocs in 42 years. both are in the state facility that i go to now. they are saints, they have saved my life. but inpatient? nope, never again.

guess i needed to vent. may delete this, i don't know. i have also had two other hospitalizations and they were better, but not much. at one in 1996, all i saw was a pdoc for an hour a day, nothing else, but at least that. the other (for 3 months in 1972) i was kept doped up most of the time, but i do have a beautiful tile ashtray i made in the craft room to show for it, and a great prescription for 10mg valium 3x a day. (sarcasm intended)

but thank goodness i know now there are decent hospitals out there. my only advice is to check them out first. make sure they have a good program (groups, social workers, pdocs/nurses, activities, etc.) maybe even check NAMI's web site for your state? i don't know where you would need to look. anyway, i really enjoyed and appreciated hearing positive things about in-patient.