I'm going to try real hard to be coherent here, but it's 5 AM and I haven't been to sleep yet.
Tandra's been having a real hard time at Valley Hope. They aren't treating her panic at all, and it's just astronomically bad with her being far away from me and Kai, and feeling confined, and being treated for something that really isn't the source of the problem, etc. etc.
Today I went up to visit her as I have the last 2 days. She told me that last night (Saturday night) she took half a bottle of Atavan (sp?) and hoped she wouldn't wake up. Atavan is the current iteration of anti-anxiety medications which she's been prescribed and which do absolutely no good. They didn't know she'd brought it in with her; the other meds she had were being regulated and administered by the staff there.
Physically she seemed fine. Mentally.. no. She told me she took them because the panic was so bad and she just wanted it to stop. She also at one point said that maybe she wasn't actually trying to kill herself so much as put herself in a state where the staff there would understand that they weren't doing a good job of handling her issues.
I was forced to think about it from a perspective of, if she had been successful, how would I feel? What would I wish I'd done differently? Because that's what I have to do right now, because she could try this again.
When we checked her in there I saw a memo on an office wall that said, in flowery language, "If an admitted patient gets suicidal, they need to be transported by EMS or trusted family to St. Joseph ER." Basically as a chemical dependency place they are not equipped to handle suicidal stuff, so it's a liability for them. I talked Tandra into telling the staff that and boy, you'd be amazed how fast they got her up out of there, with instructions to me to get her to the ER at St. Joseph. (St. Joseph is the hospital in town that leans towards psychiatric care, and they have a psychiatric hospital called Good Shepherd.)
So we went to Gordman's to get her a couple more pieces of clothing that fit her and were appropriate. We went to Taco Shop. We went home and she unpacked and re-packed. My brother came over and took the baby to my parents' house for the night. And at 9:00 PM we went to St. Joseph.
I'd say "long story short" but there's almost nothing to tell, the only thing long about the story is that it took us SIX GODDAMN HOURS to get her medically cleared and get out of there. Tandra was panicking the whole time and they only let her smoke once in that time. They admitted her to Good Shepherd and they wouldn't even let me drive her there, she had to go in a van with EMT people. I followed them out there (for those of you who know, Good Shepherd is where Charter used to be, and is kind of the same thing) but I couldn't go inside so I worked with one of the nurse guys there to figure out what she could and couldn't take inside.
Finally I got home, hungry as hell and tired, at 4:25 AM.
It's now 5:05 and I'm thinking that going to sleep at this point would probably be really a bad idea. So I'm pulling an all-nighter.
Things I have to do tomorrow:
- Figure out how to proceed with the rear driver's side axle. It's so firmly rusted into the hub that mossymonkey's dad's 8-ton press wouldn't get it out. I have to figure out which is cheaper, replacing the hub or taking it to an axle shop to get done.
- Work coherently and productively.
- Not fall asleep or go home early.
- Go immediately to Good Shepherd after work since their visiting hours are only 5-7 PM (STUPID STUPID).
Today is going to be an excruciatingly long, shitty day, and I'm already too tired to be scared or worried or anxious or any of the other things that I probably ought to be.