SO, here's how my day went: 1. I got to sleep around 5 AM. My phone started ringing around 7 and didn't stop until 10:30 when I finally gave up on sleeping and checked it. Multiple texts from friends worried about me, multiple phone calls from family members. 2. Returned my father's phone call to see if he'd done the one thing he was asked to do, which simply was stop by the doctor's office and pick up a referral. This, of course, would have costed him $40, which is why I asked him to do it, since I'm low on cash and he just got his Social Security check. He responded that he had samples of antidepressants for me. I said, "Ok, but what did the doctor say? Did you get my referral?" He then informed me that he did not go to the doctor's office, which means not only did he not get my referral, but these antidepressants came from questionable origins. 3. Panic attack #1. 4. Called my mom and told her what happened. She freaked out and threatened my dad. He deserved it. They had a giant argument apparently. I went down to the basement to shower, and before I even got in the shower, my dad was pounding on the door screaming, telling me that I could call the place myself if I wanted things done, and to tell my mother to stop yelling at him, and that the pills he got me were "exactly what the doctor would have given you". 5. Panic attack #2. 6. I got out of the shower to five missed calls from Jackie and my mother, and missed texts from Randy and Tara. I answered my texts and called my mother, telling her about the repeated panic attacks and how getting help was getting so complicated it wasn't even worth it. She suggested I call out of work and she would take me to the hospital today. I agree, get dressed, and head out. 7. Coffee at Quick Chek. Randy keeps me sane through texting for my drive to my mother's. Thanks to Randy for saving my ass from the brink of insanity for, I don't know, the five billionth time over the course of my life. 8. Arrive at mother's, she takes me to hospital. On the way, I realize what's going on, and that I very well might get locked away in that useless psychiatric ward at Overlook again. 9. Panic attack #3. This panic attack lasts well through triage, a painfully long process which results in the registrar telling me that I should consider just paying a primary care doctor rather than going to an emergency room for non-emergencies. I nod complacently, all the while thinking to myself that she is an ignorant bitch. 10. I am asked repeatedly if I am suicidal. I indicate in the affirmative. I am asked repeatedly if I am on drugs. I answer in the negative. I also point out that I am having a panic attack, as should be evident by the fact that I cannot hold my phone with one hand because I am shaking so badly. Despite my requests, I am not offered medication to calm me down. An ER doctor checks my blood pressure and pulse, comments that my pulse is high, and questions me whether I am on drugs. I repeat, AGAIN, that I am not. She tells me a clinical crisis therapist will be with me shortly, and leaves. Total face time: 30 to 60 seconds. 11. A nurse draws my blood for a drug test, telling me it is to "check thyroid levels, and other things". Bullshit. Those "other things" are drugs. You don't care about me or my thyroid. 12. They make me pee in a cup to check for drugs and pregnancy. At least they were honest about this one. I am still shaking badly, and I have still not been given any medication. I cannot keep my hands steady while holding the stupid cup, so I slosh pee all over their restroom. I do not make an attempt to clean it up. They deserve it. 13. My urine specimen is collected, and an hour goes by. No one checks on me. 14. A payment representative comes in. She wants to know how I'm paying. I tell her I have no insurance and need to apply for financial assistance. She gives me her business card and tells me to call her in the morning, she will walk me through the paperwork. I like her. 15. After two hours, a therapist walks in the room and kicks my mother out. He asks me what is wrong, and I tell him. I feel constantly like killing myself, I am bitterly depressed and hopeless, I'm socially paranoid, I have anxiety attacks, and I am having a mental breakdown. He listens patiently, and asks me if I want to be admitted to the psychiatric ward. I say no, because it didn't help me last time. He apologetically informs me that there is no outpatient psychiatric clinic in the hospital network. He can do nothing for me, unless I'm on drugs, in which case he can refer me immediately to the Substance Abuse Program. I tell him I have a Puerto Rican boyfriend from Paterson who smokes a lot of pot; does that count? He smiles and says no. He writes me a referral to Trinitas, a program I tried before and quit because it didn't help. He promises that they've completely overhauled their system and that it's different. I stare blankly at the referral and ask him if I will at least get some medication to last me until they can give me an appointment. He says they will probably not. I ask him at that point if the four hours I've spent in this hospital were a waste of my time. He apologizes profusely. 16. I go bat-shit insane, furious that this hospital wasted my time and money and is not going to help me at all. The therapist promises me that he will see what he can do, and leaves to find the covering ER doctor. 17. He returns after 15 minutes, and informs my mom and I that the doctor will give me a prescription for a five-day supply of Xanax to keep my anxiety down. I cannot believe what I am hearing. I could have spent $10 and five minutes, and gotten a five-day supply of Xanax on any streetcorner. He hands me papers giving me his office number and the number to the therapist he recommends at Trinitas. He says the nurse will be in any minute with my discharge papers and prescription. He is really nice. I like him. I just wish the hospital didn't suck so goddamn much. 18. An hour and a half later, I have not received my prescription and discharge papers. At this point I am both furious and despondent. I begin screaming at the top of my lungs, informing everyone within a 50 foot radius that I have been in this hospital for five hours and have spent a total of five minutes with medical personnel. I shout that I could have hung myself with the fucking bedsheets and no one would have noticed. I also scream that I came in here for help because I wanted to kill myself, and now all I want to do is kill myself and take everyone in this fucking hospital with me, because all they did was waste my time and make my anxiety worse. 19. The therapist walks past the room post-tirade, and my mom pulls him in and informs him that we have not been seen by a nurse yet. I also inform the therapist in no uncertain terms that my decision to seek help has been the worst decision I have ever made. I have not been more anxiety-ridden, discouraged, or stressed out in my life than I have since I have tried to get help. The therapist says he will find someone right away, and we will be out shortly. 20. A nurse comes in a few moments later with discharge papers and my prescription. At this time, I am informed that my drug tests all came back negative. NO SHIT. She asks me to sign the papers, and tells me that I should come back to the ER if my symptoms get any worse. I ask her if she is fucking kidding me, and tell her that the next time I feel suicidal, I am just going to save myself the time and money and kill myself, because death is preferable to spending five hours in this shitty excuse for a farm animal hospital. I take my shit and leave, and as soon as I walk out the door, I light up a cigarette right in front of their No Smoking sign. Fuck them. They're lucky I didn't blow through my entire pack of Newports in the hospital room and ash on their stupid broken hospital bed. 21. My mom drives me to ShopRite. The pharmacist is very kind. He fills my prescription in about two minutes, and only charges me $8. I love him. ShopRite is giving out free cans of Coke for some reason. I take one and guzzle it with a Twix. I feel alive again. 22. I decide I am calm enough to drive, so I drive my mother home. I call Jay and fill him in on the whole day's events. He is in disbelief at first, then laughs hysterically. He says because it seemed to get results, I should act like a raging crazy lunatic bitch more often. Just not around him. 23. Tara has saved some dinner for me, so I sit and eat. I inform Tara and my dad of the day's events. He acts like a prick. As usual. I text Brian and Chris, who have inquired, that I am ok. I read Alton Brown while eating barbecued chicken and inspecting my prescription. 24. I hop on Tara's laptop to Google the supposedly new Trinitas program. I find little information about it. I hope it's okay. I decide there's not much else to do but check my email. While emptying my spam folder of the various penis-enlargement solicitations, I receive an IM. It's Rigo. 25. Panic attack #4. 26. I question whether or not to respond, and then decide I have to. I make cool small talk for a while, keeping a comfortable distance. This is really the last thing I need right now: Rigo sweeping in, being my knight in shining armor for a week, and then disappearing and leaving me empty and cold. Fucking wonderful. 27. Rigo shocks the shit out of me by suddenly apologizing for doing exactly what I was thinking I didn't need. He tells me that I made a huge difference in his days back then, and that he feels like a jerk for throwing me aside once he found someone else to occupy his time. He says it wasn't the right thing to do, and he apologizes profusely. He tells me I was his favorite person to come home and talk to, that I was his best friend when he was 16, that he thinks about me a lot and is really sorry for the disappearing acts. 28. My heart is wrenched and the coolness disappears. We have a conversation oddly reminiscent of old times, yet with a refreshing difference: I am brutally honest with him. I'm not a teenager anymore, I'm not intimidated, and I don't feel like I have to be impressive. 29. I don't know what to think. I'm confused by this, because everytime he comes back, there's always a touch of "I missed you so much, let's never stop speaking again", and then it always inevitably happens that way. Although we've never had a conversation quite as serious and emotional as what he said to me tonight. I almost cried reading it, because what I've been thinking lately is that what I need right now is an old friend, someone who's known me for a long time and who's close to me. Especially after everything I went through today. 30. That brings me to this moment. I am exhausted, cold, and the laptop battery is almost dead. I would like to go upstairs and maybe read for a little while, and then call Jay. I'm wondering if I'll hear from Rigo at all after tonight is over. I wonder if I really want to. I don't know what to think, although I admit, I am incredibly happy he IM'ed me; his timing couldn't have been more perfect. All I know for sure, is that this day has been one of the craziest I've had in a very, very long time. ~Kittie | 