I've been meaning to write in my blog all week...but I haven't been able to find the time to actually sit and write. Seems like I'm always distracted by something. Or I'll write a few paragraphs and get bored with it and just delete it. So hopefully it works out this time.
I definitely wanted to touch on last Sunday...although every time I want to think about it and write about it I just feel like it would be better to forget it and move on. But I have this blog for a reason, to talk about these things, so I'm going to write about it anyway.
I know some of you follow Mike's blog, but for those of you who don't...I had to take Mike to the hospital last Sunday. There's a lot of back story to get into, but that would be a lot of writing and explaining. Suffice it to say that Mike was not in a great state of mind, and was terribly frustrated about a situation in the house involving our room mate. Nothing big or important, but something that bothered him enough to stress him out. He felt so bad about it that, to him, the only option to help him feel better was to cut himself.
I want to make it clear that Mike isn't suicidal. He has no desire to die, I can tell you that with absolute certainty. I also don't want people to think that I make excuses for him or aid him in hurting himself in any way. But I also do my best to educate myself about his situation, to TRY to understand how he's feeling. To some people his actions may not make sense...and well, they don't always make sense to me. However, I know enough to know that he sees things differently than I do. So I do my best not to judge him when he does something others may deem crazy.
After getting frustrated and upset, he went into the room like he always does. I made an attempt to calm him down, talk him through the situation that I had pretty much remedied. I thought I had gotten good at reading him in his various moods, and to me it seemed like a minor thing that would blow over if I gave him some time to himself. So, I went outside to talk to Aaron while he smoked a cigarette. We talked for a little bit about the situation and I tried to smooth things over with him. (sometimes I feel like I'm a go-between for him, I really really do my best to help others see him in a better light) When I came back in the house he was sitting at the computer loading pictures onto it. He then told me he was sorry. At first I thought he was apologizing for the situation, but then he showed me his arm. He had cut his forearm from his wrist to almost his elbow. He had apparently uploaded a picture to his own blog as I was coming in. (picture here)
While I was certainly shocked, I got right into taking care of it. I'm glad that I can handle myself in those types of situations, because lord knows it wouldn't be helpful if I behaved any other way. I took him to the bathroom and cleaned his wounds with soap and water and then alcohol. Then I covered them with antibiotic ointment. Unfortunately we didn't have any tape for the gauze, so he had to leave the cuts exposed.
We went back in the bedroom while I tried to decide what to do. My first instinct of course was to take him to the hospital. When he cut himself several months ago we had taken him to UofL, which was really horrible for him and really not helpful at all. But on the other hand, how could I just leave it alone? I went back and forth with myself for a while, trying to find something to help me make a definitive choice. I asked him what he thought I should do, which in hindsight was pretty silly. He didn't want to go of course, but he had told me a while back that he wanted me to take him to the hospital if he ever gets in a situation like this. He knows that it's going to be uncomfortable, but that it's for his own good.
Eventually I made the choice to take him and decided on Clark Memorial instead of UL. He had such a bad time at UL that I wouldn't dream of taking him back there again. I have to say, this experience was much better. I mean, a hospital visit is never pleasant, especially under these circumstances, but in the grand scope of things it was certainly not as bad as it could have been. Everyone was a lot nicer and seemed more willing to help.
Mike was really uncomfortable with all the people in the ER lobby and I know he was really embarrassed about the cuts on his arm. Luckily we didn't have to wait too long before they triaged him and took him back to the psych department. At UL they take your belongings (or you can give them to whoever took you in) and then have a police officer escort you alone to another waiting room. At Clark they allowed me to go back with him and he immediately got his own room. (which consisted of a low plastic bed with no railings that is bolted to the floor, a chair and a camera in the corner)
He changed into a too-large gown and laid on the bed while we waited for a doctor to come back. In the mean time they made him take a breathalyzer test to make sure he wasn't drunk, plus a pee test I guess to check for other drugs. And of course gave him a tetanus shot to be safe. (apparently UL should have given him one when he was there, but they didn't)
By the time a doctor came in to see him he was already feeling better, probably because he took his xanax while we were in the waiting room. She asked him some basic questions about the situation, asked him if he was suicidal, etc. They talked some about his medications and his past, about his doctors and things like that. Like I figured, the doctor didn't think he needed to be admitted, but certainly thought he needed to see his doctors immediately to perhaps have his medication adjusted.
So we left, grabbed some food, and went home.
A part of me felt bad for taking him. Like I was wasting everyone's time. But what else could I do? The last time he was feeling really bad he actually asked him to take him to the hospital and I decided against it. He ended up being okay, but I didn't want to chance it this time around. Having said that, I don't really know if I'll take him back if he does something like this again (depending on the severity of course) Not because I don't care to get him help, but I just feel like they aren't doing anything more than what I could do at home. Let him just lay down, talk to him, let him sleep and suggest he see his own doctor as soon as possible. They didn't even treat his wounds.
As it stands he's feeling much better. We had a nice relaxing weekend and he's got a doctor's appointment on tuesday. He also has a mental evaluation with a doctor in Louisville on wednesday, which is required for his social security application. What else can I do? He takes his medications like he's supposed to, sees his doctors every few weeks and at least tries to write in his blog when he's feeling down. So why is he having these problems? With medication, shouldn't he be better? He is better than before, of course, but why does he still feel the need to do these things? I'm learning as I go I guess, but I don't feel like I understand it enough. I need someone to sit me down and explain it all to me, tell me what I need to do to make it better.
I know that I can't fix him, that would be silly to think. But I know that he needs my support and my understanding. So I'm just taking it one day at a time.
now that I've gotten that all out, I certainly feel better....but I'm starting to lose my train of thought, so I'll wrap it up. I'll update more after his doc's appointment.
<3
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