Posted in Mental Health

A Fist Full of Meds

So I took my bipolar mom to the ER, and they found a bed for her at the same hospital where she was before, and she refused to sign herself in. She had agreed to go to the hospital but had a meltdown once she was assigned a bed. “I refuse to stay in this hospital one more night.”

It’s part of the disease.

People with psychoses are not aware of their mental condition. They live in their own world of delusive ideas and hallucinations in which they strongly believe. They don’t consider themselves as ill persons and that’s why they don’t ask for medical help.

Consider using periods of stability to agree to certain safeguards. This can include hospitalization or withholding credit cards, car keys, or banking privileges. Be aware that during an episode, the patient may not comply with the agreement.

The doctor couldn’t commit her without her consent, because she’s not ‘a danger to self or others.’ She’ll be even less so once I figure out how to unplug her stove. Yesterday, she put butter in a pan and turned on the burner. Luckily I found it before (fill in horrible scenario here).

The great geodon experiment is over—it didn’t make mother’s mania go away. We’re now back to zydis (zyprexa). The nurse practitioner recommended 10 mg at night. The doctor at the hospital yesterday said it was okay to up the dosage to 20 mg. So the trip to the hospital wasn’t entirely in vain.


My mom is also on lamictal (lamotrigene) (mood-stabilizer), seroquel (anti-psychotic) and lorazepam (anti-anxiety).

I gotta tell ya, it was a blow to the solar plexus when my mom refused to enter the hospital yesterday. She needs a couple of days to let the zyprexa start working. Today when I told her that I think she needs to be in the hospital, she said something about how we need to ‘collapse the time frame’ and blah blah blah — it didn’t make any sense. She also insists that she is sleeping 8 hours a night when in fact she slept 5 hours last night and 3 hours the night before.

I’m fried. I’m done. My capacity to help, to be patient with the talkative, restless, agitated patient, is gone. I’m going home and praying that somehow the right thing will happen. My brother will be checking on my mom from time to time.

It’s the disease.

Readers and commenters: Thank you again for your love, support and good wishes. It helps more than you a simple ‘thank you’ can convey.

Previously on this topic:

Blogging in Absentia


Getting Back to the Garden

Mother’s Mania


This is a personal blog. Expect a potpourri of stuff.

11 thoughts on “A Fist Full of Meds

  1. Yes, you’ve done what you can. You’re a wonderful daughter… your mom’s lucky to have you. It’s gotta be hard to leave without your mom well yet, I would imagine. But it’s not your job to make her well. It’s your job to love her, and you’ve done that in spades. Come home and get loved on by your peeps here!

  2. @Susan C – I’ve been waking up when my mom is up and making noise. So it’s been over a week of interrupted sleep.

    @Mme. G – Music always helps. Dancing helps even more. Thank you.

    @KP, AE & Pa K – You’re right. Something snapped in me when she refused to go to the hospital. I know it’s the disease, but it’s also that she’s stubborn. She knows she’s not well enough to take care of herself, but she refuses to go to the hospital. I don’t have to go along for that ride.

  3. @Mme. G – We always called it ‘soul’ music, not disco (maybe it was a British thing…I’m not sure). Everything from Parliament, Brothers Johnson, EWF and early Kool and the Gang to the more fluffy stuff like Love Train and Float On (by the Floaters, of course). And I do loves me some Dire Straits. Dire Straits—ha ha ha ha ha ha. Most appropriate. I’m not sure that Thelma’s “Don’t Leave Me This Way” is what I need right now!

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