Flourescent Lights

Thursday 10th April

Today was a good day. Hubby took the Bean home for the night and I managed to sleep for a solid 9 hours. Remarkable.

I managed to shower, and then give Bean breakfast when hubby brought her in. I gave her lunch and we played, sang and read a book. I even kept it together when she screamed her way to sleep, and felt like I'd really achieved something.

I didn't consider ways to kill myself even once.

Until I suddenly had a funny feeling in my tummy, and now I am in isolation for at least 24 hours since the last gastric episode. Oh wait, make that 48 hours. Apparently hospital isolation rules are stricter than for those of you on the outside. 

I am not allowed to leave my room. Unless it's to go to the bathroom. There is a not inconspicuous hazard sign on my door.

People are being encouraged to use hand sanitiser, masks and even to gown up upon entering my room. My lovely nurse actually threw my afternoon tea to me from the doorway, this afternoon.

I've never been made to feel more of a freak in my adult life. (And yes, that does include my time as a teacher of teenagers!)

My own Toilet. Just for me!

My Psychologist came to see me this afternoon, and sat of the other side of the room. Way to build patient rapport.

Bean started screaming while she was here, and all the things collided in my head. I started frantically twisting my lovely woollen blanket between my fingers and toes, and Mrs Psychy started trying to get me to be mindful, and to focus on the feeling of the blanket on my skin and "was I wearing socks?", but all I could hear was Bean's overwhelmingly piercing whining, the smacking of her hand against the floor, and (he who had just returned) Hubby's in-vain attempts to distract her. And all I could feel was my head spinning and the thoughts gathering and the tension growing and growing until I thought I would literally snap.

Then my tummy betrayed me again and just like that, my sentence just increased by another three hours. I'm considering not telling them about any new episodes, just so this hell can end faster. I'm not even able to watch Ellen, because the TV is on the other side of the ward. To hell with my treatment plan!

So, tomorrow I am supposed to stay in this room all day with the Beany Bub. They are bringing in a high chair so that I can feed her in here. I have a horrible feeling that it isn't going to end with my sanity intact...if I could even dare to call it that now.

I'm starting to consider ways of escaping. But every route is blocked by a nurses station. I'm pretty sure the fire exit will set off an alarm, and the windows only open a few centimetres, if that. Plus, I didn't pack a rain coat. Besides, I think that considering it is a half hour drive from here to my house, I might be noticed as missing by one of the hourly overnight patient checks, before I get very far.

Better De-Germ yourself. And look, the fire exit
so close, and yet so far.

But still, it might be worth it. Just to get outside. Because I just watched Anchor man 2, and the fluorescent light in my room is suddenly looking far more appealing.