Day 2 of Badger Gone Mental, "Dance That Crazy Ass Dance"

 As Day 2 comes to a close, yes I am still bat shit nuts but there is some idea of the itinerary on my trip to madnessville. First stop I am no longer committed I am now Volunteer, which in crazy speak means that I am allowed to wander around outside when I want and if I do not return the police will not seek to speak with me.

 Here at Burnaby General there are Levels of freedom given to patients based on the risk of self harm. they are;

• Level 1 : You are dressed head to toe in the classic fashion of the Bonkers, a gown in a lovely shade of light blue ( assless if you are daring and you double up if you are shy), hospital socks and you cannot leave the ward for nothing, not even if you are talking to Jesus which I think a couple of folks are, so I asked them to put in a good word for me. I can use all the help I can get.
• Level 2 : no more sexy blue robes you can wear your own clothes but you still cannot go out and wander the grounds.
• Level 3: You are free to wander the grounds for a hour, go for a smoke buy Tim bits at the Tim Hortons in the cafe.
• Level 4: You can go out all day anywhere you wish but you have to return at night for dreams on your piss proof pillow.
• Level 5:  Over night passes, which can be lots of trouble or fun depending on how sick you are and creative as well.

I have gone right from Level 2 to Level 4 I way always a over achiever now I can go to metrotown and wander around like a octogenarian if I like.

   I will be beginning my ECT tune up on Monday so lets hope I do not forget any of you or my website passwords especially for that midget porn site.  My roommate has severe OCD but is a slob huh that is a new one for me and if you read my tweets from earlier you know  his mum looks like Cher after 6 month binge on Meth. He also bought around 20 pounds of fruit today, I hope he eats it all or our room will be like a fruit fly version of free buffet at a blogger convention.

  My mood still sucks and I still feel helpless, hopeless and crappy, I know and hope it will be changing after monday's plug into the electric grid. Still no Jello thank god lunch was a hospital version of Mac & Cheese, and was actually pretty damn good, I could have done without the turnips, fuck this place loves turnips.

 I ventured into Arts & Crafts today which is so stereo typically psych ward ironic it is almost a hipster activity. I made a plaque for some friends. If you have any requests I can make you a dream catcher or maybe colour you a picture with crayons.

 This place is not all that horrible, it is clean, we are treated with respect and if you need help it can safe or change your life. My writing these daily blurbs about my stay are to breakdown stigma. If you have any questions leave them on my blog, and I will answer them for you. 

"The Badger Goes Mental" or "There Will Be Jello" Day 1 in Hospital

Hello everyone, some of you already know that last night I checked myself into hospital for depression associated with my Bipolar Disorder. The choice to seek help when sick is never an easy or flipant one. it comes with a bucketful of fear, shame, anixty and my hatred of Jello or any Jello based food stuffs.

  I am a very self aware person in regards to my illness and I knew it was the right time to seek some help. I am also blessed to have friends who support me and care for me without judgement and that too makes this much easier to deal with. I really need to thank Airdrie and Derek for all their support and to Airdrie for driving me to hospital and tonight for bringing me bacon cheeseburger therapy. Good friends are to be cherished and they are greatly appreciated.

 I will try and blog every day from here in Holiday Inn for Nuts in order to share and shine light on what a mental health hospital stay is like. So here we go with day one's breakdown;

  I spent the night on a stretcher in the Emerg because there was no room in the Inn for the loopy badger, and was blessed with robes of blue cotton assless gowns and socks with rubber nubs on them. I also recived my hospital jewelery two lovely bracelets. I told my story to no less than 6 different people so much so that I was beginning to feel like "RainMan". The gave me some nice sedatives as I have not been sleeping much of late and I passed out to a family argument over laxatives in Italian.

 This morning I was moved to the IPU ( Inpatient Psych Unit) and settled in my little bed with it's delightful plastic piss proof pillow, eat your hearts out Four Seasons. The food is a kind of gruel so far and no salt or pepper |I may need to sneak in some hot sauce. I had my first visit with my Dr. who ladies and some men would find quiet attractive and went over out plans for my stay at "Spa Du Kookoo".

 Burnaby General in my opinion has the best Mental Health Care around they make you part of the conversation about your care which is so very important and here is a brief breakdown;

• Meds will not change, but I will be taking sedatives to help me sleep and deal with anxiety.
• I will be getting some maintenance ECT (Electro Convulsive Therapy) you can read about my previous ECT experience here. 
• I am currently commited but still am allowed to leave the ward to wander, smoke and blog
• My roommates mum looks like a meth head Cher.
• It seems there was a douchebag special on beds as we have alot of young douchey ed hardy types.
• One spot smells like pee and it is near the food, ewww
• I will probably be here for 3 weeks or so but will get to stay at home some nights

 I am hoping to blog everyday and hope it to be insightful, funny and honest. Thank you everyone for all your suppport it makes this experience so much easier to handle. You can also visit me if you like I am at Burnaby General Hospital in the booby hatchery.

"Diagnosis Bingo! and How I was eventually Bipolar"

  My journey through my own personal crazy made a lot of stops as if my brain did not want to take the psychiatric express train but instead preferred buying a Eur-Rail pass to Fruit Cake Land instead.

  For many people the path to mental health diagnosis comes after they discover they are suffering and or are so ill that there is no denying they have something going on upstairs. It may be depression, or paranoia, simple traits for a professional to see and diagnose. In some cases and in mine it was not so easy.

 I always knew that I was different from a early age, a sense of just not quite being right but how was I to know it was a harbinger of things to come. When I was young and I know this will come to shock to whoever knows me, I was painfully shy. I avoided talking to strangers or meeting new people, and would have full on panic attacks if pushed into social situations. I also acted out and was unable to focus on things at one moment and obsessed on things as well. I was unpredictable and frankly and pain in the ass for my parents, family and teachers.  Not knowing what was going on in my own head my parents sent me to child shrink when I was 12. This shrink just watched me play games, draw, and listened to me talk and here was his diagnosis which was the first square in my diagnosis bingo.
 "Steven shows an above average intelligence but also shows impulse control issues, I think in my bearded opinion he is mildly autistic"


 Ah now my folks had a label and ran with it, reading every book on autism they could find. Along with lots more money spend for me to play with lego in creepy beard kid shrink's office.

 Soon I was a teen and along with my acne, fear of girls, hours of self touching to dirty magazines came my first depression. But no one knew it was a depression and my brains bingo card was played once again this time by a team of players. I was first called into my guidance counselor's office because I was not going to school much if at all. He was concerned what a Jr. HS kid was doing when not in grade 8 typing class.  So what was I doing you ask? Shoplifting like a madman is what, I was stealing everything including a bike I stole from a store and used said bike to steal and getaway from other merchants. But to my parents, school officials and others I was a shy, clean cut preppy kid, not a urban version of a Somali pirate. They never knew how bad I really was but my new shrink said I had depression and gave me depressants, now that is really fucked up.

 A few years later in when I was 15 I really went off the mental health rails when I had my first manic episode. That year I was 78 days illegally absent from HS, ran away from home 6 times once stealing my dads Mercedes, credit card and drove from NYC to Disneyland in California. this went on for 2 years until I was given a proper diagnosis. One doc hit it on the head and said it looked like I was bipolar but was vetoed by others who said, "teens do not get bipolar" and diagnosed me with the most socially destructive diagnosis ever, I was now a borderline personality disorder.  A diagnosis that to this day hangs like some horrible scarlet letter of "Stay Clear".

  I was a BPD til in june of my 17th year I locked myself in my room and took 40 valium. I almost died and to this day a lot of people do not know that story.  Enter the professional Diagnosis Bingo Hall the psych ward. There a good doctor diagnosed me bipolar and put me on lithium and soon I knew what it was like to be healthy or should I say healthier.

 In the years since I have been downgraded to "Depressed" was told I was a "Alcoholic" ( which if you really know me is kinda funny. I may drink heavy when I drink but I do not drink that often.) Upgraded to "Bipolar 2" again then back to "depression with social anxiety disorder". This went on for years and years til I went off the reservation again when I was married, tried to off myself again , bought two 80 grand cars in one day and was generally fucking nuts. Once again into the Professional Bingo Hall of brain shrinkery and was diagnosed "Bipolar 1 with C-PTSD and general anxiety disorder". This is the one that has stuck and with it treatment that have been for the most part very successful.

 Still when you come into contact with a new shrink, who does not know you he or she may have different ideas of what you are. They may attempt to play bingo with your mind. In all forms of healthcare we are entitled to a second opinion, if you need surgery you have the right to ask another physician if said surgery is what you need. But in crazy care not so much, we are expected to take our diagnosis like a good boy or girl and never question a psychiatrist, like they are some brain deity.

 Mis diagnosis is a common fact in Mental Healthcare, as it is a subjective field there are no biological tests to say what kind of nuts we have. So we must question our doctors, if you are not sure of your diagnosis ask for and demand a second opinion, it is your mind and your life at stake, and that is too valuable for a game of bingo...................