So I arrive at the emergency room in Mt. Vernon, arm in arm with my dear friend. I was so grateful he came to help me. I was so proud of my own self for reaching out for help, something I have always had a hard time doing. I sat on the bed after several hours of waiting. In walks a doctor whom I immediately recognized. She had recently been put on a leave of absence due to her own personal mental breakdown. I laughed and said, “I think not”. Back in October of 2007 when I had a major breakdown from grief, she was a doctor on call. D had called her to get the correct medication prescribed for me. He was so harsh and mean to her on the phone, that she stated, “Even if I could help her, I wouldn’t”. Nice mental health care physician, eh?

So another doctor comes in. He asks me things like whether I’m sucicidal etc etc. I said, “No”. He asked me, “If you WERE suicidal, how would you do it?” I couldn’t come up with an answer because… hello… I wasn’t suicidal. My dear friend had to leave to his hotel. His flight would go out in the morning. Darlene, the counselor was there. She stated several times how she had to fly out to spend the 4th of July with her family so she wanted to leave. They give me a big Ativan pill and I lay my head down waiting to go to the upper floor where I would be relaxed, pampered, and receive help and resources over the next 3 days, in time to spend the 4th of July with my precious daughter.

All of a sudden, as I’m groggy from the pill they gave me and basically half passed out, I feel a stack of papers being tossed on my butt. I couldn’t lift my head. I faintly heard someone reading me what sounded like my rights. It was like I was being arrested but it was so hazy, it sounded like they were at the end of a long tunnel or under water. I did hear, “Do you understand?” and I don’t remember what I said. A violation of my rights to be discussed later.

Next thing I know, I hear voices and I’m shivering cold. My legs are trembling and I hear someone saying something about going for a little ride. I drift off again and wake up in an ambulance. Two men were there. They seemed very nice. I was strapped down but oh so comfy from whatever horse like dose of ativan I had. I enjoyed the ride and by the time I got wherever they were taking me, I was coming out of it a little. I looked around and asked where I was. They told me I was in Mukilteo mental “facility”. Uhm… WHAT? Oh great. Looks like I got screwed here.

I go in and they forcefully push me around and make me get completely naked. I got searched. I got all my belongings taken away. They washed all of my 3 outfits I had, including my silk winter coat with a fluffy furry hood that now looks like a ring of shrunken afro. Can we not read “dry clean only” people? Ha, so anyway, they sit me in a room and ask me a bunch of stuff and make me fill out a questionaire. I couldn’t read it hardly cuz my vision was so blurry. I did the best I could, and told the truth. It really seemed like they were going to help me. I thought that this won’t be the end of the world.

I took a look at the papers that were thrown on my butt in Mt. Vernon. It was an affidavat that said so much untrue shit that I just about freaked out. Darlene had written a big long thing about how I tried to kill myself that night by overdosing on wine and xanex. She said I had concrete plans of jumping off Deception pass bridge. She said that I abuse D (hahaha!! now that’s a good one!). She said I repeatedly cut the tips of my fingers. WTF?? ***I think she got that one because I had a kitchen accident back in January of 2008 in which I went to Island hospital in Anacortes to get 3 fingers stitched. I had recently started to notice swelling in one finger that was quite sore from moving boxes etc. This is an important tid bit of info for the craziness that comes later regarding the finger that I could not get any care for. *** She also said I was delusional, paranoid, and dangerous. She said my family was estranged from me because of my bizarre behavior. Actually they were scared to death of D for some of the harsh words he said to them and his actions on several occasions scared both my mother and father. She said I was doing progressively worse throughout the entire year. Funny thing is, that the last time I had seen her, just a week before, she told me that I was doing incredible and that she saw progress that was unbelievable. She said I was a true inspiration.

I think you get the point. Basically she had to say whatever she could to make sure I stayed in there. Well guess what. I found out next, that the 3 days just turned into 6! It was a Tuesday, the 1st. But since I was in the other hospital past midnight because of the long wait, it was now Wednesday the 2nd. Friday was the 4th of July. THEY DON’T COUNT HOLIDAYS OR WEEKENDS!! So now I have to spend Wednesday and Thursday as part of my 3 days. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday were all uncounted days but I had to go through them so I could complete the 3rd day on Monday the 7th!! I was like WTF OMG. I was tricked and lied to. I was not staying in Mt. Vernon. I was not staying 3 days. I was not going to be seeing my daughter the ENTIRE 4TH OF JULY WEEKEND!! How could this happen to me? My God.

I go with a lady to where my room is. There is a long corridor of many rooms. There are a couple restrooms (with no locks!) and outside my door is a huge guy with his wrists shacked to his waist. His ankles were also chained together by a fairly short chain. I look up across from my room and I see a small closet like room. There was some sort of contraption with huge velcro straps. It was clear that when you’re strapped to it you’re facing the ground and in complete blackness until they feel you can come out. Like a punishment room. I’m thinking holy shit. This isn’t what I agreed to.

The lady directed me to go get something to eat in the other room. A man in the window hands me a tray with some cereal, bread, fruit, milk, etc. I ate almost all of it. And I notice he’s writing down stuff while observing me. Other “patients” are trying to talk to me in jibber jabber. Some are glaring. Some are looking at me in what I could clearly tell was a sexual manner. Next to the tables where we eat was a living room type area. Before finishing my first meal, a fight broke out. Not a fist fight but a verbal screaming match. It was the first of hundreds of these. A result of people being locked up and treated like animals, I would soon find out.

There was a time for everything. A time for vitals to be checked, “quiet time” in our rooms alone, kinda like kindergarten nap times, and meal times. We had a one hour span of time twice a day in which you could use the phone. You had to wait to use the phone during that designated hour because there were 20 other people waiting to use it. Try waiting to use the phone and a psychotic Turkish woman who physically attacks people wants to use it before you. I did alot of sitting in the corner just trying not to get injured. The staff consisted of just a few people, most of whom hung out in a big plexiglass office. They rarely could control the violence and rarely tried to control the screaming and cursing that was going on virtually around the clock. I know I was missing a good chunk of hair from the experience along with a few small flying food tray injuries. For the most part I was lucky.

I came to find out some very disturbing things about the system while there. I can’t go into them ALL or it would take me all day. For one, there was not ONE SINGLE mental health professional on site the entire time! There was also not an interpreter for a mexican man named Fransisco, even upon discharge when he needed to understand the meds they gave him which could kill an elephant. There was to be no talk about suicide or grieving from me to anyone. I thought that was the reason I was put there. There was also no one to watch the unlocked doors when showering, a daily requirement, and you guessed it… NO SHOWER CURTAINS. Wide assed open. My privacy in that area was violated so many times I can’t even count. Sure there’s a “knock first” sign but remember, these are mental patients with deep psychological issues. One guy even arrived there because he was “too dangerous and disruptive” for the local JAIL. Sure why not? Toss him in here with me, a grieving mother. And expect him to respect my shower or bathroom use time.

Back to the staff, they were ALL CNAs! They went to school for 3 months and are now in charge of my safety. They can check a mean heartrate and blood pressure but as far as anything that these people needed, they were completely inept. There are supposed to be checks done all night long and there were few if not any. They gathered in the office during the graveyard shift complaining about their pay and tired of being verbally abused non stop on whatever day shifts they had. I guess this is why they medicate so heavily certain days more than others. If a small few were out of control, they knocked everyone out.

Once in a while there was a doctor there. I never saw what they really did other than hang out in the office and be known of. They do have to be there every now and then to prescribe the unbelievable amounts of meds they give out. Regarding the meds, I found it crazy that every single person was prescribed the same exact thing no matter what the reason. Whether the patient suffered head trauma, psychotic outbursts, grieving like me, or a history of crime, or a victim on ongoing abuse, it seemed like Seraquyl was the answer. It make me so sick and jittery. It made my vision blurry. But they know best! I can say though, that the nutrition part of everything, I did learn alot from. I ate so much and so often that my body got very used to it and that made me feel better when I got out. I learned the benefit of snacks and never letting the body go hungry longer than two hours.

I’m surprised how well I did with the cold turkey quitting smoking. I also quit coffee after being used to it every day. There was no caffine allowed but they did allow a cigarette a few times here and there. It didn’t help me much as I smoke quite a bit. I suppose that was another caring tactic on Darlenes part. What could be more relaxing than being manipulated, in physical harms way day and night, quitting smoking cold turkey, meds that did nothing but make me sick and blind, cold turkey caffine withdrawls and spending the 4th of july listening to screaming, yelling, and howling all night? Shit this was just like club med! I think I got to call Jazmin that day and talk to her for the 5 minutes I was allowed without any incidents breaking out.

Ok, so I make it through 6 days. I wait for my discharge papers. I still have yet to talk to anyone at all regarding where I could go, what resources there were for me, or anything about the horrible trauma I’d been through. I just wanted out. I asked to talk with the staff member who would discuss with the doctor my arrangements. The guy sits me down, finally, and all he has to say is that D called there!!!!! I was like, “WHAT?” He had left a message there for them to call him back. Darlene was not supposed to break our confidentiality agreement like that! She knew I was in fear, and she told him where I was???? You’ve got to be kidding me at this point. She never called me to see how I was. She never called Todds house to find out how poor jaz was. She was not receiving her $180.00 per week she was getting off me and Jazmin so I guess that was that. At least D and his son were income compensation for her with their continued support and counseling visits.

So the main staff guy calls D back. I’m actually thinking he might have had a heart and wanted to know if I was ok. Well that wasn’t the motive for the call. It was to make sure I don’t get out. He probably thought by the amount of hell he’d already put us through, that I might go to him and rip his head off and shit down his neck. Believe me, I thought about many retaliation tactics. I have not acted on ANY. For that, I’m glad I went through all this. It has strengthened me tremendously. D told the staff member that I was a drug addict and I had panic attacks all the time. Well, yeah I had panic attacks at times during the sick encounters with HIM. I had none even in the scary mental hospital. I didn’t cry. I was paralyzed so to speak. In fact, to this day, not one panic attack. No shortness of breath. Nothing of the sort. It’s amazing what being free from terror will do for a persons health.

So back to my discharge, after he got done with D and the ridiculously uncaring phone call which should have never happened since no one knew where I was except Darlene, his shift was OVER!! It was time to add on another day to my hell so he could go home and sit his fat rear down and eat dinner with his family. After all he was still so very exhausted from spending 4th of July weekend with his children, having fun and watching them do fireworks. This sort of thing went on for the following 2 days!! I got lost in the system. I learned while in there, that since I was on the states assistance, they made $1100.00 per DAY off of me. They came up with excuses constantly. They kept putting me off to deal with a violent episode from other unruly patients. I was their prize student. I was quite. I was sane. I was helpful, and I was not demanding or out of line in any way at all. My guess is, that the state had a maximum of $10,000.00 that they would pay for me. The let me go, finally, because “The state won’t pay for you to be here anymore. Plus you seem to be fine. You shouldn’t have been here in the first place.”

It’s been 9 days!!! And they tell me that I didn’t need to be there in the first place?? They just enjoyed my company I guess. I received no help at all. Just fear and pain. Silent pain. They made $9900.00 off of me. I, now, am free to go. They did attempt to talk me into going into drug treatment. Another INPATIENT program that the state would pay for! They said at least I’d have somewhere to live for a while. Wow that’s sure tempting! NOT! I had a drug test taken from there and it was CLEAN… it was 100% CLEAN! Why would I need drug treatment when I don’t use drugs?? More money for them I guess. The system is so corrupt.

I never had a visitor, not even one of my parents. Wait, my birth brother, Quinn came and saw me on his day off. He was allowed a half hour or so and I was so happy to see him. He’s the only person who reached out to me. He wanted to see for himself what I was going through. He was horrified by my surroundings. I thank God every day for him. He’s been like my only true support system. Other than him, I received no visitors and no incoming phone calls. I fought back tears every time I saw the others receive visitors and phone calls daily… Me? Nada. Todd couldn’t drive cuz of his surgery so there was no seeing the one person who I know cared… Jazmin

Thank God that my dad agreed to come get me. I was discharged, they came, and I ran the hell outta there. The ride home was not so fun. There was alot of insults slung at me. Afterall, I was just in a mental facility. I must be messed up and need some “tough love”. I get out of the car and grab my keys, get in my own car, get Jaz, and get a hotel in Everett. I was so happy to see her. I was so happy we got to be together. We went over some of the things that happened to us both. We snuggled close and watched a movie. It was one of the happiest days of my life. We thought the worst was over. We had never been away from each other for nine whole days. What happens next, again, is just unbelievable… Darlene strikes again!

To be continued…..