I had no choice but to go to the hospital I once worked in and where I still have many friends. It was embarrassing to have them see me in such a bad way, waiting in the "suicide room" and looking like something the dog dug up under the house. But I probably felt more awkward than they did. Thankfully I was transferred to the psych unit in a neighboring town where I knew only one person---a nurse who worked the gero-psych ward---and she visited me on her lunch break. It meant the world to me.