I’ll get right to the point. My boyfriend has been in a VA psychiatric hospital since the Friday before last. He’s depressed, suicidal, etc., which I do take seriously as he’s tried to kill himself in the past. I’ve been through variations of this many times before with various members of my family and a couple of friends and myself, so I know the drill; no big deal there.
My boyfriend, for reasons not relevant here, has only my family and me to act as his support system now. My family are busy people doing busy things; okay, that’s cool, I can run with the ball, as it were. Again, I know what to do.
However, my experience is limited to private hospitals and not VA facilities (Veterans Administration military hospitals). Man, these places are different. Old, dirty, understaffed, and really just plain grim. No group therapy for the guys, no meds education, no family meetings, no Pictionary or videos to watch in the Day Room, and all the patients of every diagnosis tossed together in one mishmash. Just meds and basic warehousing. No daily assessment with the ward shrink, even.
I was really upset. How awful. How sad.
I met with my boyfriend’s shrink, social worker, et al. We worked together on an actual treatment plan for him. (It helps, I guess, that I volunteer as an advocate for the mentally ill where I live.) I made up daily assessment sheets for the boyfriend to fill out based on what I remembered using in the past, so that he can get the most out of the time he now gets to see the ward shrink each day. I visit every other day for five or six hours at a time. I make sure all of the care providers know who I am and that I know who they are. I bring the man newspapers, mail, snacks, etc. At this point I am also managing his house in Florida, his car repairs, and calls to his insurance agent.
I’m not writing all of this to tell everybody how great and fabulous I am; anybody can do this and I am quite sure many of you have, in far more dire situations than this.
It’s just that I feel like, I don’t know, kind of surreal this time… like I’m watching myself from afar as I do all of this stuff. It’s really weird. For over two weeks I’ve been eating all of my meals at Royal Farm Stores or Seven-Eleven, I drive endlessly up and down Interstate 95 to and from the hospital; I don’t sleep much; I’m losing weight; my shopping compulsion is in overdrive (I bought a fur coat today, and an all-in-one printer last week); and I’m beginning to wonder if I need a break.
The thing is, I actually don’t feel all that bad, just kind of odd. I think it would help if I didn’t have to drive so much, at least. I’m looking into “guest” lodging, which they seem to have, at this facility. I hope that I am eligible, but I am not family, so I don’t know. I will enquire tomorrow. My sister lives about 20 minutes away from this hospital, but I would feel rude imposing on her for a place to stay. If I could get a guest room on the hospital campus, it would be much easier (and cheaper, for sure!) than paying for a hotel over the weekends.
So we’ll see. Anyhow, that’s about it. I did not post this for sympathy or drama or whatever; I think I just needed to get it off of my chest in a relatively anonymous environment.
Thanks for reading if you’ve read this far. I don’t normally do this.