Saturday. On weekends the patients of the psych-unit are allowed to sleep as long as they want, or can. For me that meant 8 a.m.. Five hours of sleep was definitely more than I had gotten the nights before. I took a shower and made myself ready because I was allowed to stay at home on Saturday and Sunday. You know, before they let you leave the psych unit altogether, they let you test a night at home and see if you can handle being in the outside world amongst healthy people again. So even though I wasn't sent home on Friday as planned, I was supposed to spend two days and one night at home.
I had a long chat with one of the nurses before I left. I had met that guy at another unit before and he is quite funny and loud. He gave me my meds for the day and we had a little argument because he didn't give me all the sedatives that are on my list. But it really didn't matter because I have all those meds at home as well anyway.
My husband came to fetch me and we went home. It always feels a bit weird to come home when you have been at the hospital. I was afraid that all my old feelings and impulses would catch up with me but they fortunately didn't. We wrote a grocery list for Christmas and my husband was really happy when I told him that I would follow with him to the supermarket. I can't stand shopping, my social anxiety always acts up in supermarkets. But it went well, we did A LOT of shopping and when we got home I was totally exhausted. I cuddled with my cats for some time and then took a nap.
The rest of the day was spent in front of the TV, watching movies and trying to feel safe at home. I actually got a good night's sleep in my own bed. When I woke up in the morning I knew that I wanted to be at home and not at the psych unit. That was kind of the moment when it turned for me, when I realized what I wanted something again, when I realized that I'm better and don't need to be at the hospital anymore. And then my legs started acting up and I was a total mess. I cried so much, I didn't know what to do. So I came back to the psych unit crying and told them that I needed to see a neurologist now! But nope, the nurse (no clue who she was, never had seen her before and she wasn't even wearing a name-tag) told me she could contact the on call psychiatrist but that's all. I took a sedative and waited. It only took an hour this time and a young doctor arrived. He, of course, couldn't help me. I had known that before but the nurse has insisted on calling him. All he could do was to write down a note in my file that I once again had been cryng out for help because of my restless legs.
I just took another sedative and got a bit fuzzy in my head. My legs were still terrible but at least I wasn't as anxious. I even talked a bit with the other patients. You know, they had put up a plastic Christmas-tree at the unit and the tree was in silver. And about everyone was complaining about the colour of the tree. Yeah, Christmas at a psych-unit, can you imagine that? Poor souls!
The rest of the evening I spent studying Russian and chatting with my room-mate. I tend to get quite chatty from benzodiazipines. I think they make me let my guard down. So I might have just babbeled on and on and my room-mate was irritated. But in my head we were both chatting. Haha. I took my Zoplicone, watched some Dexter and fell asleep around 2 a.m..
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