Hospitalization for mental illness was kind of like summer camp

December of 2009 was my first time in a mental hospital. I've seen therapists before, but never been admitted to a hospital.

Sleep deprivation was a big factor putting me into the hospital.

Part of the reason why I'm in the slow lane is an inability to take the fast lane with it's hectic pace. It's not just "low carbon footprint," there are some medical reasons why I choose the slow lane as well.

Rather than just preaching at others about their fast lane living, I also marvel at it. "How can they juggle so much and not literally go into the nut house?"

I couldn't do the "long term commute, double job and take classes at the same time" routine.

Often, the inside of my mind feels like a fast lane.

The mind can be a microcosm of the nation.

Yes, it seems like there's a country in my head. Decisions made by committees of "voices," different interests jockeying for influence, an internal dialog.

There's even a stock market in my head. Am I having an up day?

Sometimes it feels like radio talk shows are jabbering inside me. Discussing how things in the real world will "play in the Peoria" of my inner world.

Remember that phrase, "how will it play in Peoria?"

Try driving with this going on in your head. Could be worse than a cellphone.

No wonder I don't try driving. Bicycling is slow enough for me.

What put me in the hospital

Early December 2009, the radio show in my mind sounded very real. Audio voices rather than just thoughts.

Normally, I realize that all this morass of thinking is just thoughts, but in December, the voices sounded more real.

Hallucinations.

It sounded like Click and Clack from the Tappet Brothers were having a discussion in my ear. Yes, the Tappet Brothers from "Car Talk" on NPR Radio.

Instead of joking about car repair, they were discussing my life; or voices that sounded like them were.

Strange.

I was worrying a bit more about work and other things. So called normal folks might not react the same way, but worry is fairly common for me.

For most of a week, my life remained fairly normal, but voices and other odd things would come and go.

Then, as I awoke on December 12, I couldn't tell if it was a dream or reality.

Last time I remember such a daze was after a marijuana brownie in the early 1980s. That's why I don't use pot much, it was a paranoid trip, but that was back then.

This was something else and there were no drugs in my system.

Most of December 12, I was in a confused state. My mind was spinning with thoughts about possibly entering something like a parallel universe.

Eventually, I was wondering the streets of downtown Bellingham in a daze.

Soon a friend found me.

Good thing a lot of folks around town know me.

He ask, "are you OK?" and my answer was inconclusive.

He detected something wrong and his wife started dialing 911.

Next thing I knew, the ambulance was there.

It was surrealistic.

Then I thought I might be making a movie about randomness in the universe as I rode in the ambulance.

They rushed me to Saint Joe's Hospital, North Campus.

In the emergency room, they were trying to figure out what was wrong.

I wasn't much help talking a mile a minute about random parabolas and wondering if I was in Quito Ecuador, for some reason. One of my correspondents on Skype, lives in Quito.

Eventually I got a small shot in the leg and started to relax as they wheeled me down some hall.

Down this hall, round these corners, past, maybe the cafeteria?

I remember thinking of the cafeteria as being symbolic of being in the hospital without really being in the hospital. Without being sick, one can visit Saint Joe's Cafeteria; like being on the edge of the obis.

Then I was out. Out like a gentle sleep.

When I came to, a few hours later, I felt good. My normal state of mind was back; like waking up from a bad dream. It was next day and I was in a quiet hospital room in North Campus. It felt good to be back to normal thinking again.

Maybe all I needed was a good sleep.

Involuntary confinement to the psychiatric ward wasn't bad

Next, I ventured into the hall from my room, feeling pretty good. "Yes, this is the hospital." "There's a nursing station to the right."

As I wondered what would happen next, a kind man approached me and said the hospital had decided to help me out. I think, in part for funding reasons, they decided to get a 72 hour court order to put me in the psychiatric ward. This is located at Saint Joe's South Campus. That meant another ambulance trip down to South Campus, but I probably wouldn't have to pay for the intra-hospital trip. As far as I know, cost of that South Campus stay is covered by government.

I called in sick from work and someone assured me that others could cover my shift.

South Campus was kind of like summer camp. I had my own room. There was meal time, group time and art class. There was various appointments with a public defender, social worker, psychiatrist and plenty to keep one occupied.

Photo: Saint Joe's Hospital South Campus.

Everyone seemed quite nice including the patients. The social worker was especially good.

Really, it was like a summer camp. Structured interaction.

There were quite a few rules, but not enforced harshly.

With no Internet access on the ward, I figured out how to put my Wednesday Dinner announcement out. Problem solving is one way toward mental health. I used the phone to call one of my newsletter readers and talk him through the process of putting out the newsletter. He checked his email and confirmed, by phone, that the newsletter had come out. Then the office staff at the hospital offered to get a print out for me.

Two confirmations that the "work around" worked.

Art time was most interesting. People used coloring pens and then shared the meaning of their creations. Folks on the "outside" should do this more often.

I got out of South Campus early. They released me before the full 72 hour confinement order was up. No need for a detention hearing. That would have been scheduled if they had wanted to keep me over 72 hours.

Several folks gave me the "high five handshake" for getting out early. They said, "we're so happy for you."

It was a bit sad leaving as there were some good folks at the "camp," both staff and patients. On the other hand, I was glad to get out and start putting my life back together.

Did I leave my heater on when I left my home that strange day? Could I get my desk top computer running again? For some strange coincidence, my computer gave out that day.

A good excuse for Christmas Vacation, my recovery.

Photo: Sign for things at South Campus. I don't see "psych ward" listed. "Behavioral Health Services" must be a more politically correct title.