It’s going to be a very quiet weekend on 7NE-S, with one of the two other patients away. I will try not to get too depressed about the fact that I’m locked up on a psych ward for Xmas. It’s my own damn fault, and I did it for research purposes (both mine and theirs), so I really can’t complain.
I suppose it’s no worse than spending Xmas eve and morn alone in a Swedish hotel, as I did in 1971. In fact, it’s arguably better, as I will have all my meals provided and a few people to be social with in a language I can speak. And I have devices for communication and entertainment that we could only have dreamed of back then, even if I must watch them being recharged through the glass of a locked door.
But it’s frustrating that I must spend the weekend here at all, because I am allegedly being discharged next week. Again, that’s a matter of choice. They say that if I hung around for at least another four weeks they could get me into a study, which would begin with a 2-week period of taking no drugs (even though I already am virtually drug-free). I don’t think I want to spend another 6 weeks here before actually participating in research.
In fact, I would love to leave tomorrow, but they won’t let me go until they’ve identified people to provide the care I need “in the community.” A social worker is working on that. I talked to her today and learned that she will basically use the same techniques I’ve used to identify the many providers I’ve tried (I listed all of them for her so that she doesn’t waste time contacting them). I’m happy to leave the identifying in her hands, but I’d be happier if they’d just let me go.
It really doesn’t seem right that after I volunteered my body and brain for research, they can now hold me hostage. Maybe tomorrow I’ll tell them that it’s my way and the highway. I have a suspicion that they’re hoping I’ll decide not to stay, because I’ve been a troublemaker, and that meanwhile they will make my life as miserable as possible, to punish me. Perhaps I’m sicker than any of us thought.