Mental Health, The Emergency Room and Hospitals: A Little Soul Testimony For The New Year by D.C Copeland

The MRI is a machine that scrambles the brain. I have had two MRIs in the past three weeks. I think it is a delicate form of torture. The emergency room is filled with all sorts of sources that try one’s mental composure. I thought I would write solely about the emergency room but my experience is also unfortunately about the entire hospital rigamarole as well.

First though, a little background: On October 4th I went to the emergency room and was admitted to the hospital with urinary sepsis, a miscarriage, appendicitis and an ileus which is a blockage in the large intestine. I had four IV ports in my arms, a tube up my nose which pumped toxins out of my stomach and a catheter. A few weeks later I was admitted to the hospital again with a perforated appendix and an infected abcess. I have been in the hospital for a total of twenty-two days in the past ten weeks. I have had at least five CAT scans, two MRIs, four ultrasounds and more blood-work than I can count.

The beeping noises that were made from the machines to which I was attached, the constant checking of my vital signs by the nurses, the consistent changing of my IV bags every one and a half to four hours and the lights going on and off without any encouragement from me, all happening twenty-four hours a day was enough to drive me batty. However, one cannot go batty in the hospital. I suppose one can but then they pump you with heavy psychotic drugs and after your body heals they ship you off to the psych ward. I did not want to visit the psych ward. I did my best to keep it together. I think it helped that when I entered the hospital, the infection was so bad that I would have died without medical attention. This fact was enough to keep me quiet and humble and to let the doctors and nurses work their healing magic with little complaint from their patient.

How did I keep it together? I texted with friends and family throughout the day. I called my trusted confidants. The hospital gave each patient an IPAD tablet so I could watch movies. I couldn’t really focus on the plot but it was nice to listen to the sounds of such entertainment in the midst of the beeping noises, patients screaming “help me”, and the doctors and nurses delivering their messages of hope and conversely despair.

How have I not gone insane over the past two months? The sleep deprivation alone was a challenge. The cries for help from other patients made it seem like my gurney was located in the pit of hell….

The human body is an amazing machine. It can endure so much. Heck. I can endure so much. When you are dying, it is an emergency. When you are dying and you want to live, you will tolerate what you once thought would be intolerable.

Where am I now? I haven’t been in an emergency room in over eleven days. I am taking antibiotics to reduce infection and prevent further infection from taking hold. I still have to wrestle with an appendix which just will not cease being problematic. For something which seems to have no real function in my body, it does create a heck of a lot of trouble. However, I met with a surgeon yesterday and he plans to take it out in twenty-four days. Yes. I am counting the days.

I cry sometimes. I cry over the loss of my baby who couldn’t survive the sepsis. I cry because I couldn’t cry in the hospital and there was every reason to do so. I cry because I’m still feeling quite ill sometimes and I want this ordeal to be over. I have also looked up at the sky and screamed. Twice. I was in the woods where hopefully no one could hear me or if they did hear me perhaps they thought the sound came from some bat out of hell. I’m becoming able to tolerate pain in ways I simply couldn’t before. Mentally and emotionally I sometimes fall apart. I lean on my friends and family. I lean on my faith. I have a belief in the still quiet voice of my soul which is writing this to you now: Its own testimony that it can survive…no, scratch that..overcome great difficulty and find the words to share with others this story of trial and triumph.

I don’t have to feel okay to testify to you that on some plane of existence, all of this is, well, okay. I don’t have to think “I’m okay.” I don’t have to be “okay”. I don’t have to be any which way whether I am in the hospital or just feeling slightly saddened by this experience. The fact that you are here with me in this moment in time means we are both not alone on our mortal journey. I find that fact to be quite comforting. Living this truth, I find the mental and emotional duress becomes quelled. Thank you for your listening presence. Happy Holidays and a HEALTHY New Year…

THANK YOU:

Thank you D.C Copeland for sharing this ongoing experience with us here at SeeTheUniverse. It takes a lot to share such a personal part of you; but sharing your story is not only a great personal outlet, but it can also help others who may be in a similar situation. I am so sorry for what you have experienced and the battles you continue to face as we enter a new year. I wish you a speedy recovery and all the best going forward.

Thank you again for guest writing for us! – If you would like to know more about the lovely D.C Copeland, take a look at her bio below! She is a fantastic poet and play writer and I am excited to read her upcoming release ‘Societal Dropout: A Culture Manifesto For The New Millennium.’

Bio

D.C. Copeland received a B.A. in English from Yale University and an M.A. from New York University. Her poems have been published by Flare Journal, The 34 Parallel and aaduna magazine. Her plays have world- premiered in Portland, Oregon and New York City. She is the author of the soon to be published book Societal Dropout: A Culture Manifesto For The New Millennium.