November 10, 2011
We waited together in the ER at Huntington. On their intake log under the heading “reason for visit,” I wrote: “reaction to anti-seizure medication – psychosis.” I felt that was an adequate medical reason and I was pretty sure my durable powers would cover it. We waited. Gabriela was doing what I had asked of her, being compliant, waiting for her blood test.
It didn’t take long before she was called back. I was relieved when they showed us into a “special” room with one block–style bed, permanently bolted to the floor and with a thin plastic mattress. The whole room was approximately 6 by 8 feet. It had one metal door with a large wire mesh glass window. Outside that door was a small entry area for medical equipment and nurses, then yet another door. Outside of both doors was Gabriela’s own personal guard whose sole job was to make sure she stayed in that room.
Gabriela and I sat next to each other on the bed and talked as we waited. First the medical nurse came in to collect information about medications and doses. She had told us that someone would be in shortly to draw blood for Gabriela’s blood tests. I asked if it was possible to include the anti-seizure–diet blood tests, as well. The nurse agreed after quickly glancing over the lab request.
Gabriela was hungry; I told her that I would get breakfast for us as soon as the blood test was finished. I was starting to relax because Gabriela was in the hospital. It was obvious to me that she was having issues, just not to the extremes that had brought her to this hospital less than two weeks earlier.
While we waited together, Gabriela was in a very loving, almost childlike mood. She held my hand and told me she loved me, and that I was a great mom. My biggest concern was that the staff would, just like they had at UCLA, declare that Gabriela wasn’t bad enough, that she didn’t meet the criteria, and send us away again.
Gabriela did a great job while they drew tube after tube of blood. When the blood drawing was finished I went to get her breakfast. It was a nice break for me to get out in the damp morning for a short walk to the cafeteria, even if it was just up the plaza.
When I returned to the ER, Gabriela ate her breakfast of eggs, potatoes, orange juice, cinnamon roll, and cereal. For me, breakfast was just a large black coffee.
The behavioral nurse and social worker arrived as we finished our breakfast. The first thing they did was ask to talk with me out of Gabriela’s line of vision. I explained to them the first break, the lack of response from Gabriela’s neurologist, Dr. Wreck; last evening’s up and down moods, and the accompanying signs of auditory hallucinations.
The two of them looked at each other and simultaneously said, “Bipolar.”
The head Behavioral Health nurse then went into the room to talk with Gabriela. I stood outside with the social worker watching, and occasionally talked with her. She assured me they would help, and that the psychiatrist on duty for the day, Dr. Duncan, was great. According to her, we were lucky; he really cared about his patients.
The nurse came out of my daughter’s room to ask me just a few more questions:
“Do you fear she will harm herself?”
“No.”
“Do you fear she will harm you?”
“No.”
He settled back and tried a slightly different phraseology. “Were you afraid on the drive over that she would try to exit the car while you were driving?”
“Don’t say that!” I grabbed his arm. “Gabriela can hear us, don’t give her the idea; I was horrified that she would open the car door all the way here!”
He continued. “Are you afraid that she will leave the house in the middle of the night?”
“No, we set the house alarm to alert us.”
“Are you afraid of what she is doing in the middle of the night while you’re sleeping?”
“No, I slept with her to keep an eye on her.”
He had heard enough. He looked at the social worker and the other nurses on duty, and me. “It’s 10:42 AM, I’m calling a 5150.”
Gabriela screamed. “Mom! What did you tell them, Mom?!” She no longer remembered the plan.
The guard was up and blocking Gabriela’s attempts to leave her room.
I hugged the nurse and cried and then I hugged the social worker. I thanked them both.
It had worked, Gabriela and I had put the plan together and it worked. She would get help.