Psych ward

Only because my lawyer got my court date upheld (which I did not want) was I going to rehab. On my way down there I had to check into the hospital of the local base, then get driven to Providence. On the ride there I talked with the driver who pretty fun to tease and joke with. I waited at the airport for the airplane which was the first reverse seated plane I had ever been on, just a rough indication of the upcomming trip. We did a bunch of small flights and eventually I was brought to another hospital. From there I was driven to another hospital with another guy sharing my fate, he also was going to a psych ward. He had got in a wreck during a blackout and left the scene where his bumper fell off. We checked into Walter Reed Army Medical Center as we were told we were just going to stay until the rest of our travel. We were brought to this ward where we were not allowed to have sharp objects. I was brought to a psych ward for the weekend. I am not immediately going to say this was unnecessary because in some cases I understand it is. I did think it to be a little odd though. The night that got me in trouble happened over 4 months before I arrived at the psych ward, and 2 years after I drank until I stopped breathing. I wonder if my problem was so bad that I needed to go to a psych ward, then why did my treatment wait so long. Obviously they knew I did not need to go to detox or psych ward when they sentenced me to a couple months jail before this or they were trying to kill me. I thought my existence at a psych ward was funny and I came there a day after extreme amounts of exercise so I was all giggly happy. I had to be interviewed by around a half dozen doctors, and one psychiatrist even offered me drugs to help me go to sleep on the first day. I refused, because I did not need them and did not want to become part of the get a patient and keep a patient program.

The first doctor to talk to me was a psychologist who was training another. He asked most of the questions to me and then asked her to give me my physical. On one side I was happy, but on the other I saw trouble coming. The night before I bought black silk boxers with holographic spiders on them, which obviously made me look like I needed the psych ward. It was the first time I had worn boxers in months. I remembered back to earlier that day when I was randomly becoming excited in a localized area for no reason at all. She started to feel my midsection, which almost felt like a massage. Out of nowhere she slid a hand down my boxers and I promptly said, "this is not good." She said what and I said, " well this is the first time I have worn silk boxers in a long time, your hands are in them and I feel like I am being set up to look like a jerk." Luckily I was able to control my breathing and nothing bad happened.

While there the doctors came to a conclusion that I have a great understanding of myself, but not of my substance abuse. They also came to the conclusion that they thought I stood a good chance of being bipolar type 1. This would only indicate how little they paid attention to what I said as I usually talked about the extreme depression associated with underway. One lady was really funny. She went through a scenario with me asking what usually happens when I go out. I told her and then at the end she added, " and then you get stoned." I said I don't know where in the hell you got that one but it is wrong. If I were to do stuff like that, why would I wait until that point to say something and still actually say something? I guess it was the psych ward and there is no need to use logic because a lack of it is what lands people there.

Please visit your local psych ward!

My existence there also reminded me of when another one of my roommates wound up in one in Charleston, SC. He was in prototype where there are 12 hour rotating shift work days. The people there are sometimes too lazy to correctly add your points toward qualification and if you fall behind the workday gets extended (the general philosophy is "we got screwed and so should you.) Many kids work 14 or 16 hour days studying because the standards are so low that people who should not make it through are forced through, which ends up forcing many people to the psych ward. One of my roommates applied for an officer package to go to ROTC. He was accepted, but the navy couldn't let him go until his time came. He had some bad things happen in his family and work was consuming him. He ended up shooting a gun in the house and told the chaplain of how he wanted to kill a large number of people. Within one week of getting his officer package accepted he was in a psych ward. My other roommates were scared of him, but I was not. I visited him at the psych ward and saw he had a brown psych suit on. I brought him a cake which he well appreciated, and as I saw him I think I said my favorite line of my life. Officers where khaki clothing and that was the color of his psych ward outfit, so I said, "Looks like you got those khakis after all."

Some people perform their jobs with a passion, and some do not. Some people feel they are infallible as that is all they are taught. Many less than normal things occur in the military, and for this reason I was afraid of being in the psych ward. I saw how some people were so drugged that they could not complete a single thought. People began to chant how they were doing better. They believed they were better because it was all they were told and some of the minds were not firing on one cylinder. I believe that these places have a purpose and some serve and are served good by that system, but I usually get horribly depressed when isolated from society and I understand that exercise is what makes me feel good. I do not need anyone to tell me this.

I had a few big complaints with my stay. My stuff was hard to access as it was all locked up for my stay. I forgot contact lens holders and they didn't have any to offer me (in a hospital.) They diagnosed me as probably being bipolar type 1, which is a person who is usually in a manic state after I wanted to be dead for all but about 3 months of the last 3.5 years of my life. I was usually feeling horrible due to the lack of life that is the life of a submariner which would be better characterized as bipolar type 2. They also did not even sign the 5 page diagnosis they wrote on me. Also they would not let me order One Flew Over the Coo Coos Nest for our movie party -- just joking. I never bothered to ask... though One Flew Over the Coo Coos nest would have been a great show.

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