When we arrived at the hospital, the triage nurse sent P to a room - read that cell - and security came running and locked him in his room. The triage nurse called security to escort P to a locked room when he was clearly not violent. They let me go in with him after a few minutes, and he was still manic but not in any way violent. An ER doc, not a psychiatrist, came to see him for about 3 minutes.
A little later, when p was very animated, and loud, NOT violent, the nit wit of a nurse called security! Five - yes - five uniforms stormed into the room and kicked me out. I begged them to let me back in, but they surrounded his bed and interrogated him. They later admitted that he was not violent.
I tried to go back in the room but they had him locked in again and would not let me in. I tried to sneak around them and they shoved me out into the hall and threatened to kick me out of the hospital. I did not make this up. I pleaded with them to back off, saying five officers was overkill and P was already manic enough. I tried to explain his illness but no one would listen. When I tried to go back into the room, an extremely hostile if she put her hands on me and physically pushed me out the door. Then she said she would ARREST me if I tried to go back in the room! I wish I had put out my hands and told her to go ahead and take me to jail. The other officers would have laughed her off the force. Picture it. A 6’2” officer and me, all 5’3” and 140 pounds of me, cuffed and taken to jail for disturbing the peace. Jesus.
I walked up and down the hall and went back to see him. Not allowed in. They started speaking to me in a condescending and patronizing tone. It was absolutely infuriated. The charge nurse took me down the hall for coffee. It was 45 minutes before she let me go back. Because I was weeping, she decided that I needed to come home and get some sleep. I assured her that I would not sleep.
When I got back to see P, THREE cops escorted me to the security office. They made me go on the other side of a desk, closed the swinging door between us and stood on the other side of the desk like a tribunal. There were four of them including the charge nurse. I felt as though I were on trial. They told me to go home and I said I wanted to stay with P.
The nurse called the ER doc and HE said I had to either go home, taking P with me or let them "place him in a hospital" without me there. Either take him home with me or leave him alone.
“That is totally a Hobson’s Choice!” I guess I assumed too much in thinking they would know what a Hobson’s Choice is.
Of course I couldn't take him home. He was already somewhat sedated. I knew P needed hospitalization but wanted to stay with him until they sent him away to God-knows-where. It was GHASTLY the way they treated me.
I asked again to stay with him for a while. Denied and told to go home. I finally convinced them to let me sit with him for a bit. When I arrived back at the cell, P was so heavily sedated that I could not even tell him I was leaving. Thanks for listening. I am at my wit's end.
© 2013 cjschlottman