What's It Like in a Mental Health Unit?

I was hospitalized for severe depression in 2004. I didn't know what to expect. I had visited a friend in a mental health unit at a local hospital. It seemed like a very nice place, but I was still afraid they'd tie me to a bed or something. The unknown can be scary, especially if you're emotionally rung out like I was.

So, for those contemplating medical treatment, those with friends or loved-ones in care or for the morbidly curious, here goes.

Some units are "Lock Down" units. this one was not like that. There are hospital rooms, minus all the ports and outlets that world accommodate machinery and electronic IVs and so forth. In the place where I was hospitalized, there was a large lounge area bordered in a circle by the hospital rooms. The lounge was carpeted and nicely furnished with comfortable couches and chairs. There was an aquarium with tropical fish.  There was a dining area and hot meals were brought up to us as they would be on any other floor, the difference being that they don't deliver them to your room. There was also a refrigerator stocked with juice, milk and fruit. There was a cupboard with dry cereals and a coffee pot. No caffeine in the coffee as it counteracts many medications.

At first glance, the thing that strikes people is that just about everyone is wearing street clothes, although they might sleep in hospital gowns. They gave us these little footies with rubber on the bottom, quite comfortable, especially if you didn't have slippers. People generally don't go to the emergency room with 4 or 5 changes of clothes packed for the occasion, so some patients have to rely on donated clothing. There's laundry facilities and a couple classroom-type setups. There was a small lounge with a TV and a piano. Board games and foosball were also available.

Like any other nurse's station, there's a reception desk. No one is wearing uniforms. There are male and female nurses and aides and 1 or 2 attending doctors. The unit I was in housed a maximum of 15 patients. When a patient arrives, they are usually ushered into another small lounge that's more private. A nurse and Psychiatrist meet with the patient there and do an intake, including asking the patient if there was some recent event that triggered the symptoms they're experiencing. 

Patients spend about 20 minutes there. Then they are shown to a room. In my case, it was late in the day by the time I arrived. I had been in the ER for 5 or 6 hours. I was exhausted as I hadn't had much sleep in the past week. I was cold, no matter how many blankets I piled on. It had been that way all day. The nurse had someone bring me a bowl of cereal and a carton of milk. 

The patient's purse or other hand baggage is searched and anything glass or electric is removed. Anything in the way of meds, even over-the-counter meds--are taken and locked up until the patient is discharged. There are people who will get desperately depressed and try to down pills or cut themselves. They took a bottle of cologne I had, but always brought it out when I wanted to use it. Things like curling irons or just about anything else with an electric cord were locked up, though one could use them on request. That was so with all our belongings.

The unit I was in majored on education--education about each person's specific disorder, what the various meds given were for. They also covered issues like grief and loss and stress-management.

The first group of the day was what they called "Goal Group" where everyone was asked to set some kind of goal for the day. It could be anything even if it was something like, "My goal today is to shave." A lot of people who come into such a unit have been beyond setting goals for some time. Goals were a structured, small step in the right direction. 

At the end of the day, we'd check back into the goal group to find out who achieved their daily goal. Most people succeeded. I had goals like, "Today, I am going to have a good laugh," or "I'm going to knit a dish rag. (Of course, I had to request my knitting needles, but could hang onto them all day as long as I had them in hand.) I was so physically weak when I arrived that this was truly a challenge, but I made it.

There were several other group sessions throughout the day. Various nurses were assigned to each patient. They'd come along and ask if I wanted to talk or just to find out how I was doing. On Sundays, they had a rather nice continental breakfast with fresh donuts and other breakfast cakes, fruit and cereals. 

I saw my doctor every morning around 7:30. He'd ask how I was doing and make a lot of notes. The days of the Psychiatrist counseling the patient are generally over. Mainly, he asks me how I think I'm doing and if need be, alters the treatment.

I was in the hospital 5 days. I went home feeling pretty good. Then I overdid it. I had a rather high-maintenance friend come to visit. I collapsed again and was readmitted. When my doctor asked if I was ready to go home on about the 4th day, I said no. "How long do you think you need?" he asked. I said I just needed one more day. I wanted to be sure the new meds were going to work before I was released again.

Like myself, it's common for newly admitted patients to be emotionally fragile and physically exhausted. For the first day or so, they just gave me a lot of space and didn't ask me to attend groups other than the goal group as I desperately needed sleep. In fact, one of the first things they did when I arrived was give me a sleep aid. Was I ever grateful!

visiting hours were established to be during the dinner hour. They did this so the various group meetings wouldn't be interrupted by the arrival of visitors. However, they never declined anyone who came to see us during the day. 

The average stay in such a unit is 5 to 7 days, though some people might stay up to 3 weeks. Before checking out of the hospital, sessions with a counselor outside the hospital were scheduled. The nurses had us write out any personal red flags that would indicate they need medical attention and phone numbers of friends or loved ones who could be with me if a crisis arose.

One thing I appreciated was that they also had a group meeting for family-members and friends, describing what experiencing various disorders was like for the individual, what to do when a loved-one is in trouble, what the purpose of medications were and how to best support a loved-one who is struggling.

The grief and loss group was really beneficial to me as well. The event that put me over the edge psychotically was our Pastor suffering a massive stroke. We had been quite close to him as it was a small church. I think the worst part was that they wouldn't let anyone see him or even tell us where he was. 

This was a Catholic hospital, so they had a Sister who ran some of the groups and counseled us or just gave a listening ear. It was common for staff people to offer a loving hug when needed.  They also had a very nice chaplain who was especially attentive to anyone in need of a little encouraging fellowship and prayer. He came and prayed with me several times and we talked about God in the context of my illness. Staff people would routinely ask if I wanted to meet with the chaplain and would notify him accordingly. I really appreciated that.

I think one of the best things was that I was a normal person in the hospital with a lot of other normal people who were battling an illness most of the world still doesn't understand. One guy there was actually a mental health counselor himself. He told us rather sheepishly that he felt a little guilty as he knew what the pitfalls were, worked too hard too many hours and burned himself out. I said, "If it's good enough for the counselor, it's good enough for me."

My husband brought me my guitar. The counselor played guitar so I lent him mine. He sang a wonderful succession of folk songs. He thanked me profusely, saying the chance to just sit and play was really therapeutic. One guy heard me playing Carol King's song, "You've Got A Friend" on the piano. I couldn't play much at first because I just didn't have the strength. Finally after pleading with me several times, I sat down and sang it again. Then, I went to my room and crashed for two hours. 

If any reader is struggling with symptoms of depression or other conditions and losing the battle, I would encourage you to go and see if this kind of medical treatment might benefit you. If you're wondering if you should get care, you probably need to. I wish I hadn't waited so long. I had waited partly because I was afraid, but there was nothing to be afraid of. The staff and other patients were friendly and sincerely caring. 

The "mental hospital" stigma just wasn't there. Now, this is a private hospital. I don't know what state hospitals are like, though I have heard some horror stories, mostly about some of the other patients. sometimes, the only way to tell the difference between the patients and staff was that the staff had name badges. There were 1 or 2 people there one might call "weird", but for the most part it was just normal people who understood and accepted one-another, warts and all.

There were 1 or 2 patients there who clearly had issues with anger. These were the people who didn't want to take meds, participate in the groups and would snap at anyone who asked how they were doing. I can't understand this, checking one's self in, then not cooperating. My disease needs medical attention yes, but a great deal still depends on me and if I bite the hand that feeds me, I'm likely going to starve.

One lady was there because of a difficult marriage to a man with an obsession disorder that made life at home unbearable. Another lady was there because she had recently lost a son to a motorcycle accident. One guy was there to get a handle on his alcoholism. Another lady was there because she ran herself ragged caring for everyone but herself. 

I was glad to be released and go home, but now, I wouldn't hesitate getting help if I ever have such difficulties again. Now that I am under the regular care of a Psychiatrist, I am doing a lot better. Unfortunately, sometimes the only way to get a Psychiatrist is to be admitted to the hospital. That's how it seems anyway.

Typically, a unit like the one I stayed on doesn't handle people with severe conditions that make them volatile or otherwise unsafe to be around. It's just a bunch of folks in the hospital to get better.