Sunday, October 17, 2010

It's the Final Countdown

Since I'm still dealing with my usual insomnia issues, I may as well post.I am still getting credit in one of my courses for doing this, so it seems efficacious to wisely use time when I should be sleeping but am unable to do so. My parents and I will head off to the airport to travel to our central coast location in just over twelve hours. We'll spend the night in a hotel. My mom assures me it's a 4-star hotel with premium channels and wireles access. My last night of relative freedom for at least three weeks should be comfortable.

I presented my list of demands to my parents. They were fine with all of them, except that they said the doctor, as long as they were confident of his or her competence, still had the final say regarding my medication, if medication is even needed. They agreed that the doctor would have to listen to my concerns if the effects of any medications were bothersome to me, and they agreed that they would make sure the doctor listened to my concerns even if one of them had to make an extra trip to the facility to ensure that it happened. They also said that once my mother left the facility one week from today, each of them would call and talk to me twice each day unless I personally told them that their contact was excessive and requested fewer phone calls. Also, I'm still required to have at least two visits from close relatives each week. Those relatives have been designated as my parents, my godparents (who are also my aunt and uncle), and my Aunt Heather and Uncle Steve. If pseudo- aunt and uncle Jillian and Scott are in the area, they will be allowed to visit as well, but they're not designated as among the twice-weekly visitors because they live so far away. If any of my friends travel near my area and want to visit, they can as long as both my parents and I OK them.

Security in this place is fairly tight, so it would be next to impossible for the bad people, even if they got out of juvey and found away to disable their ankle monitors, to actually get inside, and even if they did, security guards are present twenty-four hours a day.

I'm nervous mainly because I don't know what to expect. I have a list of what I'm allowed to bring. I can have my own bedding from home, and I'm required to provide my own toiletries. They check out razors to female patients for approximately four minutes when they're showering, but I'm not yet in need of razors, so it's just conditioner, shampoo, deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste,comb, brush, lotion, and cosmetics, which I don't actually wear yet because my father thinks it would make me look like a pre-adolescent painted-up hussy. (I can wear colorless or very light lip glass, and if I look really pale before a choir performance for which I'm accompanying, the director usually puts a slight amount of blush on my cheeks so I don't look ill.) I may have up to ten books at a time, but because I have to bring some textbooks, I'm allowed fifteen. There's also a library there, but I wouldn't count on its being very well-stocked. I can bring a stuffed animal if the staff ckecks it out and determines that it neither contains contraband nor can be used to strangle oneself. Funny. Without reading that, it never would have occurred to me to use a stuffed anumal to strangle myself.

If some of the things I'm writing don't make sense, it may be because of sleep deprivation. My father says I'm showing signs of it. He would like to give me Lunesta or a similar sleep aid, but my mom says that it would take so much to be effective, and since I'm checking into the facility so soon, it would be better just to wait and let the doctors at the clinic deal with the problem. She also says they will get a better total picture of things if I have no traces of drugs in my system. I've been off Vicodin from my surgery for over a week, so I'm drug free except for beta blockers if my thyroid makes my heart beat too rapidly.

Tomorrow evening I hope to be enjoying myself at the hotel. I wish they would've sprung for a 5-star. but then, they could've found a Motel 6. so I will count my blessings.


  1. I obviously don't know any more than you know about what your treatment is going to involve, but I do know my niece was treated for bipolar disorder, very possibly in the place you're going, and she didn't find her stay unpleasant at all. Go, make the most of it, allow yourself to have some much-needed sleep, and be well.

  2. Alexis, what you said made perfect sense.

    By the way, you can look upon this as a research opportunity. There was someone (very famous in later life) who spent time in such a hospital when he was young for depression. I am darned if I can remember who it was...

    Anyhow, if they allow you to blog, that'd be wonderful. If not, well, see you in a couple of weeks time!

    By the way, the stuff that has happened to you is very real. That's clearly why they call it PTSD! DOH!

    Incidentally, if what had happened to you (the accident, the plagiarism (with the whole thing created by that damn fool principal) and the other bad stuff that followed on because the principal was playing a rather weird game (WHY? What was happening there, in the background, I wonder?) had NOT caused you to be very upset, that would have been a sign that something was not right. Your reaction to the events seems to me (a layman) to be perfectly normal and totally proportionate.

    Have a good time. Well, have as good a time as you can, under the circumstance.

    Catch up with you later.

  3. Matt,
    My flight is delayed. I'm online briefly while my dad is having me delete the city name of the facility's location for safety purposes. He said it's unlikely ever to be an issue with the security of the place, but that he doesn't want to chance anything. I'm hoping they allow me to blog. It will be interesting.

    Thank you for your kind support and for your validation of my feelings.


  4. Good luck, Alexis!! I, too hope you'll be able to blog from the facility. I can't see how it'd be a problem... but you never know… especially after that bit about strangulation by teddy bear.

    Also, I do recall that James Taylor spent time in a facility after his girlfriend (or, it may have just been his friend) died in a plane crash on her way to visit him. His friends had planned on surprising him with Suzanne's visit... but obviously, they had more horrific news than they originally planned to share with him. He wrote the song "Fire and Rain" as a grief testimony. I'm assuming this all to be true, or it could be something that someone thought up to explain Suzanne's part in the song. Either way, he did spend some time recovering from some sort of problem.

    Cat Stevens also wrote a lot of his hit songs while in the hospital recovering from TB.

    I wonder who Matt was thinking of...

    Maybe your recovery will encourage you to write a bestselling novel?

    Take care, and know that I am thinking of you! :)