The Last Few Days on PICU

I thought things may improve as in they may give me some freedom back or I may be allowed a bra. Having big boobs and not being allowed to wear a bra is awful. It just stripped me of my dignity so I spent the days in massive thick hoodies. But you could still tell I wasn’t wearing a bra. I was due on my period a couple of days in to this new regime. I was told I would be allowed my pants back. But everything else would remain the same. I was still not allowed a bra. I had never self-harmed with a bra, or my glasses so didn’t really get why I wasn’t allowed one. I could understand not being allowed pants as I was ripping the elastic from them. But why give me back the thing, the one thing, that I self harmed with and not anything else. What difference does having 2 duvets make? Why was I not allowed any pillow? Why no sheet for the mattress? Questions I didn’t bother asking as I knew all I would get was “this is no one’s fault other than your own”. Yes, true, but not helpful, and just served to make me pissed off so what’s the point in doing something if you know it’s going to piss you off?


They had told me they were waiting for a bed in MCH and they would not be transferring me to their acute ward so I just had to wait. I had nearly a week of these strict rules I had to follow with the only loosening was being allowed pants while I was on my period, being in the ladies lounge on the bean bag (seriously, these bean bags were amazing, they were huge and so comfortable) and being able to wear my glasses all the time.

On the Tuesday I had a bad feeling. Something was in the air. I overheard a phone call which nice HCA who was playing Black Jack with me took. I heard him say that I was the only patient on the ward who was waiting for a My City bed. That got me in a bit of a tiz. I kept asking him why they had called and had they now got a bed. I had said numerous times how I didn’t want to go and that it wasn’t right as I knew staff and patients. He said it didn’t mean I was moving that day but the wards often ring each other to see how the bed situation is. Which, from working on the wards I knew this to be true. But, I could not shake these really uneasy feelings. I kept asking and asking him and he had said he hadn’t been told anything but I should prepare myself anyway as sooner or later I was going to be moving as the community team had said they wanted me back in the city. But still something was not right.

My Mum came to visit me that afternoon and I said to her how I was feeling about it and she just said deal with it when it comes and it will be better for her as she won’t have to make the 40mile round trip to come see me. This annoyed me a little as no one seemed to get how I was feeling about going back.

After the visit ended I was at the airlock door showing my Mum out when a HCA walks out of my room carrying my lap top and a load of stuff in carrier bags. I asked what was going on and got a bit upset as people wouldn’t answer me. They asked me to move away from the door and kind of pulled me down the corridor. Not in a restraint way but a “”come with us and if you don’t we’ll be a little less friendly” kind of way. The nurse in charge of the shift came and talked to me and said I had probably gathered that a bed had been found. I asked where. There are 2 hospitals in my city. One is in the main medical hospital which is spitting distance from my house and the other is only psychiatric and mental health. Luckily I was going to main hospital. From a patients point of view if you had never worked here this would be the unluckiest choice as it’s dirty and big. The other hospital is much nicer, only about 14 beds on each ward, private beds with ensuite, newer and nicer setting. But, I know more staff there. I know staff here also. But not as well. I didn’t consider when worrying about being transferred back to my city that I would be coming here as I thought it was assessment only. But I have since been told it is assessment and treatment. So in theory, I could be here up to 6 months.

I had to wait about an hour before the taxi arrived to take me between the two places. It’s about 20miles between the 2 hospitals but they are in the same trust. In the trust there are 2 hospitals which are based in the city limits, one based in a satellite town about 20 miles away (where I was and was on the 136) and one based about 30 miles in the north, not actually in the same county but still part of the same trust. Can’t quite work that one out. Before I knew I was going, I had it all planned out on how I was going to make a run for it. I had day dreamed about it so much that I had it down to a tee. However, this was not to be. First off I was told I would be escorted by 3 staff in a mini bus. So no sitting next to the door for me. And, I thought I would be going to the other hospital and had a very good local knowledge. I planned to try and out run them and if not I knew there was a railway bridge that I could climb over to stop them coming anywhere near me. I had it all planned. But I knew I would be stuck between 2 members of staff, nowhere near the door and not on my planned route. Every time I as much looked at the door he put his arm out on the chair in front. I was going nowhere. I knew there was no chance of being able to outrun any of the 3 staff that I was with. Even when we got to the hospital and I had the benefit of area knowledge there was still no way I could have managed it.

So, in to MCH.

It was awful. I recognised so many of the staff. I tried to keep thinking to myself that I knew them but they probably only vaguely recognised me and probably just thought that I was someone who had been in before. Until handover of course when people were told I had worked on the wards less than a year previously. I have had a couple of people mention it to me. One person has said it’s interesting as she can see it from the other side and it’s kinda scary how easy it can happen. I just wanted to stay in my room. The nurse who initiated me to the ward (if that’s the right word) was lovely. He is lovely. He has such a caring demeanour. It took a while and then a female came to go through all my possessions with me. There were a few things I wasn’t allowed to keep such as nail varnish remover but they let me have everything else. It was like Christmas. Being allowed to have all my belongings again. I was asked if I felt safe enough to have them but I wasn’t going to say no. I wasn’t going to let them know that not that night but the one following I planned on self harming and attempting again. I wasn’t going to let them know my plan.

The ward is horrible though. It smells. It’s big and the people in some way are just so different from the out of town hospital. It’s a bit rougher round the edges. Everyone carries their hand bag with them. I haven’t really worked out why. Is it because they are worried of things going missing, or is it because they have somewhere to be? Since being here I have struggled to read again and my mood has taken a dip again. Nothing major like the depression I can now recognise I had when I came in. Just a bit lower. I think it’s because I am here.

Also, they (I am not sure who they is either out of city or my city) seem to have lost my phone, phone charger and iPod charger. I am trying not to get angry about it. But, I blame out of city as that is the last time I had it. It’s odd how it’s the charger also. The two things that were kept together. I am not bothered about the phone; it’s the numbers in them which I am bothered about. I have lost all my numbers again. It was only in June when my other phone broke that I lost all my numbers. I haven’t got them all back since then. Also, I have kind of got used to not having a phone so not having it doesn’t really bother me that much. It’s the point that it has gone missing which has bothered me!