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I was brought to the hospital by the ambulance. Very thin and exhausted on all levels. I looked like if someone had sucked out all the life out of me. My cheeks were sunk in, my skin was very pail and I had the look of death on my face. I must have been relieved to be where I was. This last six months were about to shape my next 10 years.
It was very much the turning point of my life. All I owned was the clothes I was in. A pair of blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a leather jacket. To be fair on myself I wasn't aware of a lot that was happening. Hallucinations were happening a lot. There was no regular sleep, a lot of vomiting and starvation diets, everything was random with the occasional moments of clarity.
Knowing something was terribly wrong. I remember late one night thinking to myself that i had to do something about my problem which became an obsession. I was always tired, a tiredness no sleep could fix. The weight of the world was on my shoulders and it wasn't going to go away. The moments of clarity were more frightening than any hallucinations. My parents came to visit which helped me be strong.
What a quick turn around. Six months earlier I had told them about the new job offering I received and sent them copies my housing contract. I felt very grown up. Successful. Now I was on a death bed, drugged, weak and depressed.
I was admitted a few days before they arrived. They went into "what can we do mode. " They brought me some shirts, an extra pair of pants, socks and underwear. Much later Dad told me how I made him laugh when they asked if I wanted anything. I replied "Yes, food and lots of it!" My friend Karen came on that visit as well.
Apparently they had to wait around for ages to get in. As they walked through the door I felt this incredible pain in my spine which arched my back and made it hard for me to call out. Fortunately the pain only lasted a few seconds. My new world was a lot of mixed emotions.
I was in a room which seemed to me, more like prison cell. The door had a tiny window that looked into another door. A courtyard with high walls, a few plants here and there. There were doctors roaming the halls 24 / 7. And a nurse came in to change my ivy and check my pulse every hour. After a while I was moved to a more moderate and comfortable room.
You could work out where you were in relation to the rest of the hospital and world. So good to have a regular routine in my world again. Hot showers, plenty of food to eat and best of all HBO. I still took some medication, but I was getting better. I was on the road to recovery. I slept most of the time, I guess I was making up for lost time.
There were some activities during the day; I remember painting and exercise classes. Sitting in groups and talking about our problems. Mine was depression and bulimia. I dont know what caused me to become bulimic and depressed all the time. As far as I knew I had everything I ever wanted, I was happy. I guess I was wrong, there was something missing in my life...
Talking to the other patients my perceptions of hospitals changed. It didnt actually change but it gave me a way to rebuild my life. Routine, activity, food, the care of my friends and family. It made me realize what was truly important. I remember one afternoon this little boy was playing with blocks in the room across the hall.
He just all of a sudden stopped and started laughing saying I remember, I remember, I'm so happy. Something about the blocks must have sparked a memory of a special moment. Another patient I recall was Mr. Kirkpatrick, he let me call him Tom.
We use to sit out in the hall and hed tell me about the olden days and how he fought in the war. Up until then I'd never seen anyone inhale an entire cigarette in one drag. He brought me so much insight and wisdom. After a while I went out for walks and admired all the nature and world around me. Funny to see that life still went on. The seriousness of what had happened to me finally sunk in.
I got better and recuperated within three weeks. When I left the hospital I stayed with my parents until I was fully prepared to face the world once again. I remember walking down my childhood streets and taking a good look at Ms. Andersons little ice-cream parlor.
It brought back great memories. I than felt shame for what had happened but i felt a strong need to continue. Dr. Smith suggested to start working again but at that point i wasnt sure i was ready. He also told me I may have to see a psychiatrist to help me just incase I happen to fall back on my depression.
From this experience I learned that your friends and family will always be there for u in a time of need. It felt great to be me again. Its true what they say: "Life does goes on. "
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Research essay sample on Friends And Family Six Months
