Concerning My Hospital Stay
Looking back on it all, one of the most interesting days was the day I was brought out of the coma. The events of that day, have, in fact, changed my attitude towards mental illness.
After the decision was made to take me out of the hospital and place me in the hospice program, I was brought out of the coma and taken off the respirator. Some of the doctors didn’t think I would survive at that point, but I did. I don’t know how long it took me to regain full consciousness, but when I did, I was very much aware of everything around me. That happened to be the day that Saddam’s capture was announced, so I was glued to the TV reporting. I was not, however, able to verbalize. To be conscious but not verbally coherent was very frustrating.
Although I was accurately processing what was said and seen around me, I was also hallucinating. And those hallucinations added to my version of reality. My son, for instance, was by my bedside and was communicating with me as best he could. I understood everything he said and tried to respond as best I could. But in between our conversations, I was convinced that he was entering and exiting my room through the window. I watched him do it several times. At least I thought I did. I tried to explain to him that the nurses would soon get on his case for doing that and that he should start using the door like everyone else, but what little of that message he could understand only confused him.
But that wasn’t my only delusion. There was the matter of those self-cleaning walls. Somehow, the hospital had installed a new system of tiles that would clean themselves on a regular, rotating, basis. Whenever I got bored with TV, I could watch those ceiling and wall tiles drip cleaning solution on themselves, turn inside out and back again, and then move on to the next group. I remember thinking about what a great cost reducing invention that was and how excited I was to be one of the first to see it in action. At one point, even the wall clock moved itself out of the way as the wall behind it was cleaning itself. I wasn’t exactly a Flower Child in the 60’s, but I did have a few Height-Ashbury type experiences. But nothing like those walls.
There were other things, too. I complained to the nurse about a lousy meal that I had just eaten when they had given me no food at all. I kept asking my son to push the button above me on the ceiling, when there was no button and not even a reason to push the one I thought was there. But the Grand Champion Hallucination was the one when I was ready to be transported out of the hospital. My leaving the hospital had been delayed two hours (fact). I believed it was because my orderly had locked the transport people out of the hospital (not a fact). To make matters worse, another orderly had accidentally closed and locked my door when she left the room (also not a fact). Then, because I had already been checked out paper-work wise, the hospital’s master computer had changed the security code to my room (so, so much not a fact). So there I thought I was……..locked in my room, with my transportation people locked out of the hospital. At that point computer programming code began to appear on the wall near the door. Clearly, the problem was that their system was an NT system, not a Unix system. I tried to call out using what could only have been the nurse call buttons, but there were not enough buttons to make a phone call. It was very frustrating. Eventually the maintenance crew was able to take off the top of the door. (Presumably so the computer tech people could see that computer code.) And then the door opened and there were the transport people. My rescue was complete.
Life can be very exciting when you supply your own reality.
What was NOT a hallucination, however, was my conversation with the doctor when he came in to give me his CYA speech. He wanted to make sure that I knew that I was going home to die and not to be treated. I understand why he had to give me that speech, but I didn’t appreciate it much then. When he finished, I mumbled as best I could, “suuut uuut”. He couldn’t understand me, so he leaned in closer. I tried again, “suuuuuuuuuut uuuuuuuuut!” I still didn’t get through so I mustered up all my energy and verbal skills and said as best I could, “shuuuuut uuuuuup!” “Oh,” he said, “you want me to shut up.” And he did. Even though I was hallucinating, I was still always able to understand everything that was said TO me, so I really believe that conversation with the doctor happened. At any rate, it’s too precious a memory so I choose to believe it was real.
