The Hospital

** As a reminder, this occurred last year. March 2011. 

The doors closed and my eyes filled with tears.  And then it was all over.  I was a puddle. 

My mom and I embraced and cried.  For, I have no idea how long.  We were outside the locked door on the floor that kept Ellie safe. 

We decided to meet at my house.  I had no desire to talk to anyone.  I wanted to crawl under the covers of my bed and stay there until I could have my daughter back.  This was not what our lives were suppose to be like.

I knew I had to let some people know.  I had several messages.  I hadn’t realized how long we had been in the hospital – but it had been several hours. 

I sent a pretty blanket email to several a group of friends and then called my lawyer.  I knew she had to know.  She wasn’t available, so I called her assistant.  Immediately, I broke into tears retelling the events of the past few days. 

“So, Ellie is in the psychiatric ward?” he asked again, trying to wrap his head around it.

“Yes.” I confirmed.

He said he would have DR call me, but I didn’t want to talk to anyone.  He said he was sorry and we hung up.  The rest of the drive home is a blur.  Once there, my mom insisted I take a shower and then lay down.  My phone was ringing off the hook as news spread among my friends, but again, I was not interested in talking. What was there to say?

I wanted to pick up a few things for Ellie now that I knew a little better what she was facing and so we made a trip to Walgreens before we headed back to see her.  We had really just left.  But, the only visiting times were lunch and dinner so, we were heading back.  I wondered what she would look like and how her day had been.  She was the youngest there at the moment. She was also the only female.  Knowing my Ellie, she was holding her own. 

The routine was you went to a special elevator, went to a special floor which contained 2 locked doors.  One was for the older kids, one the younger.  Each had a phone.   You picked it up and automatically someone at the desk answered.  You identified yourself and if you were on the list of approved visitors, you were let in.  Each time, it was gut-wrenching. Each time, I was reminded that DP was not allowed.  I was reminded at the peace of mind that gave Ellie. 

The first night, I thought would be the hardest.  Afterall, the only time she had been away was with family and once or twice at friends.  This was HUGE.  They talked to me about possibly putting her on some medication to help her sleep.  I had fought medication all this time.  Her therapist had mentioned it before, but I wanted to try not to use it, if at all possible.  And yet, here we were. 

Ellie had had an okay afternoon.  She was okay.  I can’t say she was much better.  She reminded us several times that DP was not allowed on the floor.  That was the saving grace right now.  If that is what was holding her together, then I was all for it.  I would use that too.  We put some things around her room to make it a little brighter.   And watched her eat dinner.  She was happy she was able to order anything she wanted; that was pretty cool.  She introduced us to the boys, in so much as just telling us about them.  They had been nice to her and welcomed her.  There was a nurse she especially loved and who I believed had taken a special liking to Ellie as well.  She felt okay about spending the night. 

I was introduced to a watchman, of sorts, who told me he would be outside Ellie’s room and make sure she was okay and I could call him every hour if I needed to.  I told him to be ready. 

The visiting hour was up too quickly.  I hid a special chocolate bunny for Ellie to find after we left and we hugged and kissed her good night.  She was locked safely behind us. 

My parents left soon after we got home. 

Then it was just me.  I should say, me and Bell. 

It had been awhile since I hadn’t had Ellie around and the house was quiet.  Too quiet.

I called to check on her and she was taking a bath. 

That night I believe I called 3 times.  She was fast asleep each time.  They had given her something to help her sleep. Just some Melatonin at this point.  I think she would have slept, regardless.  It was probably the first time in a long time she truly felt safe.  Like the man who had hurt her so badly could not get her.  She was protected by a locked door and security.  This is where she needed to be.

The following day, Saturday, after no sleep, I was so anxious to see her.  My mom came up to meet her for lunch and we headed over.  She was happy to see us.  She was excited about the small things – once again that she could order pretty much anything, that she had found the chocolate rabbit.  And the big things – DP could not get her.  We checked out the itinerary for the day.  And she seemed okay with everything.  They had art therapy, music therapy, small groups, one-on-ones.  Her therapist happened to be the doctor on call that weekend and she came as well to meet us and talk to me about medication.  At this point, it might be prudent to put Ellie on a low dose anti-depressant.  After talks with a nurse yesterday, she was diagnosed with Suicidal Ideation and Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.  As much as I was against it initially, I caved.

After visiting with her, my mom headed home. 

I tried to get on with something in my days, but had nothing.  I wanted to curl up and watch the clock until it was time to see her for dinner.  I checked in with my lawyer.  She had sent an email to DP saying that visitation was off (it was suppose to start Sunday) and gave him the reason.  She said that Ellie was in a hospital and had suicidal ideations and needed to be there.  She further asked that he not try to see her and even if he did, he would be turned away.  Monday we would have more information on the legal side. 

I felt good about that.

I decided I needed to get some things for Ellie so I told my close neighbors about what had happened.  Ever lovely and supportive, they listened and let me cry.  They made lovely cards for her so I could take them to her.  It started what would be great colorful things keepsakes for Ellie to enjoy at the hospital and look back on after.

I started to think about my week ahead.  I wanted to be at every single lunch and dinner.  I didn’t want to miss any of them.  This happened to coincide with one of the busiest weeks of work.  I had been scheduled to be out of town two days and didn’t know how to handle it. I also wanted to, of course, be there when she got out and home probably several days after.  By my mom’s advice, I held off on anything because at that point, we didn’t know how long she would be there.  I could make it to most days, missing one lunch and still get to where I needed to be. 

********

Sunday, early, there was a knock on the door. 

It was L and DP.  They were there to get Ellie for the visit.  I had not slept in several days now and I could not believe who was at my door.  This was the last thing I wanted/needed to face.  I don’t remember the last time I had a conversation with DP.  I can’t remember the last time we were face to face. 

I opened the door and L said, “we are here to get Ellie.”

“DP, haven’t you read your email?” I asked, ignoring L.

“Um… have I?” he turned to L.

What the fuck? That was just weird.  Did he just ask her if he checked his email?

“Why?” L asked.

“Is he not capable of having a conversation on his own?” I asked L, now raising my voice.

DP just stood there.  As if he literally weren’t .  Really. 

I wasn’t sure what to make of what I was watching, but I was in no mood. 

“Ellie is in the hospital.  She is not here. Check your email. You have one from Friday.”

“Why is she in the hospital? Which one?” L asked

What the fuck was going on?

“I am not telling you which one.  Neither of you.  She is in there because she is suicidal.”

“She is too young to be suicidal.” L said, obviously having studied child psychology sometime in her past. Who the hell was she telling me this bullshit on my front step?

I became irate.  I was done with this conversation.

“Well, she is not too young. And I am done with this. It is all in the email.  DO NOT try to find her.” I put way too much emphasize on the last part and slammed the door.

I called my lawyer, relayed the story and she said she would need to fix it. She understood, though.  I had apparently stepped over a line.  I should have not yelled, nor should I have told him the last part.  He should have known it from the previous paperwork.  At that point, I didn’t care.  I could have and wanted to say so many other things.  Truth is, she was in there because of him.  I could have and wanted to say that.  I wanted to have him understand that.  But, truth is, he either wasn’t capable or didn’t care.