Chapter 14
When Peter woke up the next morning, he thought he was still in a dream. He certainly wasn’t in his own room and it wasn’t the Medbay either. He was in a strange place and didn’t know how he ended up here. He sat himself up in bed which caused a shooting pain in his left arm and when he looked down, he saw it was bandaged but didn’t know how he got hurt. The room was empty and he had no idea where or why he was there and he started to feel very anxious. He wanted his dad. Where was he?
On the right side of room there were a set of windows the length of the wall. He could see people he assumed were nurses, doctors and orderlies on the other side going about their day so obviously he figured he was in some sort of hospital but why? He was just about to get out of bed to ask someone when Casey, his social worker came in through the door which confused the hell out of him. He couldn’t be at his treatment center because nothing looked familiar so what was she doing here?
“Casey?” he asked puzzled like he was staring at a mirage.
She smiled as she walked into the room and over to his bed. “Good morning, Peter. I came in as soon as I saw you were up,” she said pointing to the windows. She raised his bed so he could sit up more comfortably and then she took a seat in a chair. “How are you feeling?”
How was he feeling? That was a loaded question! “Confused. Where am I? Why are you here? What happened to my arm?” he asked raising it towards her. “Where’s my parents?” he asked one after another.
“I’m sure you are confused. What was the last thing you remember?" she asked in a soft tone. Lately that seems like the ongoing question on everybody’s mind. Everyone is always asking him what was the last thing he remembered these past couple of days!
He thought back and recalled waking up in the Medbay and talking to his dad who knew everything. With that one thought he felt the humiliation wash over him all over again. He remembers going home from the Medbay, seeing Ned who got him upset and then being forced to eat a bowl of soup. Then he took his pain meds for his headache and went to sleep. He reached up to touch his forehead and the bandage was still there. It was still a bit tender but the only thing that was painful was his arm and he doesn’t know how he hurt it.
“The last thing I remember was taking my pain meds and going to sleep. What happened and why am I here? And where is here? I’m really starting to freak out,” he told her. The one thing he hated the most was NOT KNOWING which was a common pattern with him waking up in different places not knowing how he got there. Casey nodded along and then put a hand on his arm to comfort him but it only made him more nervous. She had that look like she was about to tell him something awful happened. “Casey?” he said in a begging tone so she could tell him where he was and what happened! The suspense was killing him!
“I have a lot to tell you and most of it will be hard to hear so bear with me, ok?” she said and waited until their eyes met and he nodded so she continued. “You’re back at the treatment center – “ and he cut her off already.
“But none of this looks familiar, though! Why am I back here?” he asked with a slightly raised voice.
“Sweetie, it doesn’t look familiar to you because this isn’t your usual room or even a part of the facility you’ve seen before. You see, this ward is where we keep our patients that need 24/7 monitoring for a 72-hour hold. It’s our policy when someone comes in that has…tried to take their own life,” she said so matter of fact that he was surprised by her bluntness. It wasn’t until she nodded towards his arm that it hit him what she was saying!
He was in total disbelief. “WHAT?! Me? What do you mean? This?” he said pointing to his arm. “No, I didn’t try to…why would you think that? What are you even talking about! I shouldn’t be here! I want my dad!” He knew he was acting childish but he was scared, confused and started really freaking out. That’s all he knows is that he went to sleep and woke up here so how on earth could he have done anything to hurt himself and not know!
“Peter, try to take a couple deep breaths for me, ok? I don’t want you to have a panic attack,” she told him and then he realized he was breathing hard and gripping the sheets in a death grip. He took some deep breaths and she waited until he was finished. “I’m sure you’re wondering about the bandage on your arm and what happened. I’ll try to explain the best I can, ok sweetheart.”
He needed to take a few more deep breaths. Whatever she had to tell him he knew he wasn’t going to like and he already knew the answer before he asked. “D-did I do this?” he asked as he held up his arm. He wanted to tear the bandages off to see the damage and how bad it was but instead just ran his fingers over it. When she nodded, he felt nauseous. Oh my god, he did this to himself. “But how, why, when? How come I don’t remember anything?”
“You were brought in late yesterday evening after you had a manic episode. We were told by Dr. Cho last night –“ and he cut her off again and she sighed looking annoyed.
“What?! Manic episode? What does that mean? Wait, you guys talked to Dr. Helen Cho? How do you know her? Why did you need to talk to her?” he asked. His head was spinning because nothing was making any sense and he just wanted to go home!
“Peter, please stop interrupting me so I can tell you everything,” she asked politely.
He felt his cheeks burn a little because he didn’t mean to be annoying but everything was so confusing. “S-sorry. I just don’t understand anything,” he said even though deep down he didn’t want to hear any of it but knew he needed to. His throat was becoming tight and was trying hard not to start crying.
“So, as I was saying, we spoke with Dr. Cho after she ran another blood test, and unbeknownst to her, you still had traces of Rohypnol, the roofies, in your system that she thought would have burned off by the time you were discharged yesterday morning. That mixed with the pain medication you took caused a serious drug interaction that led to psychosis.”
Peter sat there dumbstruck with his mouth open wide. “Psychosis? Oh god, what does that even mean? What did I do? What happened?” he asked again rambling one after another. “Did I hurt anyone else?” She shook her head no and he was relieved that he only hurt himself and not anyone else even though he doesn’t remember doing it.
“When you woke up from your nap, let’s just say you weren’t yourself. The side effects of mixing those two drugs can cause memory lapses, blackouts and amnesiac episodes which is why you can’t remember anything. According to Mr. Stark, he found you pacing your room, talking to yourself and…had a razor blade. You were cutting your arm right in front of him,” she said but stopped talking to let Peter take all that in after he gasped out loud and covered his mouth.
It was bad enough getting caught that he was cutting again but doing it in front of his father?! He couldn’t imagine any situation where he’d be so out of control that he’d let himself do that! He was frantically shaking his head back and forth. “No, I wouldn’t do that! And where would I get the blade from, huh? They took them all and I didn’t have any!” He was trying so hard to find any loophole so the lie would collapse in on itself because there’s just no way he would do that! They had to be wrong!
“Apparently you broke a pencil sharpener to get to the blade, which is a desperate act, Peter. You kept shouting that you had to ‘get it out’ over and over again and according to your father, you were pleading with him to let you hurt yourself even more. You said, you wanted out…”
Shit. His stomach sank thinking about the pencil sharpener that he was keeping in his desk drawer in ‘case of emergencies’. And he knew exactly what ‘get it out’ meant but not in a million years he would think he’d ever say those words out loud, let alone repeating it to his father! He just sat in disbelief as everything unfolded in front of him and he hated not remembering any of it. It felt like a story they were making up because he just couldn’t do any of that!
“So, I did this to myself? In front of my father?” Then it hit him hard. “Oh my god, how is he? Is he ok? I can’t believe I did that to him! He must be so worried about me!” He couldn’t wrap his head around anything. He couldn’t hold it in any longer and started crying thinking about what he put his dad through. He actually asked him to let him cut himself more? And in front of him? Jesus, he was such a horrible son! His father doesn’t deserve this, he deserves a stable normal kid.
She reached over and put a hand on his arm again. “Of course it impacted him profoundly but he’ll be ok. And yes, he’s worried about you and he’s the one that brought you here. Peter, the cuts on your arm are…vertical and typically that would mean you tried to take your own life, do you understand how serious this is?” she said with a softer tone.
He shook his head again in denial. “No, I didn’t! I wouldn’t! I don’t think like that anymore! I got better the last time I was here, you know I did! I wouldn’t try that again, I just know it,” he said with a raised voice. But something within him knew he’s had dark thoughts lately but he never thought he’d act on it...again, not after the last time. More for his dad’s sake than his own because he saw what it did to him and he wouldn’t put him through that again …or he thought he wouldn’t do that again. God, how could he do that to him! The guilt was coming on strong on top of every other emotion and it was hard to keep them at bay.
She handed him the tissue box that was on the nightstand because he was sobbing at this point. “I’ll try to explain the best I can, ok? I’m not a medical doctor but from what I understand and from what Dr. Cho told us is that a major side effect of those drug interactions causes lower inhibitions meaning you weren’t in control of your own actions. I think subconsciously you’ve been feeling that way but didn’t have the ability to stop yourself this time. Think of it almost like a truth serum if you will. Even though you don’t want to admit it to yourself, it’s clear you have suicidal ideation. Peter, you admitted it to your father after he confronted you last night. You told him you think about it and I quote, ‘all the time’. You can’t hide anymore, you’re sick dear,” she said with a sympathetic voice and he hated how she looked at him with pity.
Peter sat there hiding his face with his hands and cried. He didn’t know what else to do with himself. This was all too much and it felt like he was trapped in a bad dream. He knows deep down that what she said was true because he has been thinking about it all the time but to say it out loud and do actually go through with it? Fuck! How could he do something like that and not know? He can’t believe he was here again.
“How long do I have to stay?” he asked quietly through tears. The last time it was six weeks!
“So, in this room, you’ll be here for 72 hours to be monitored then after that we’ll transfer you to your room if we feel you aren’t a danger to yourself or anyone else. From there, I would say at least two weeks minimum depending on your progress. The same rules apply. No visitors or phone calls for the first week and then after that you can lose those privileges if you don’t follow the program. Your first appointment with your therapist is at 10:00 this morning. I know it’s all overwhelming right now, especially because you don’t remember anything but we’re here to help you.”
Peter looked over at her with wide eyes. “Two weeks? Oh my god, what about school? I can’t miss that much school!” School was the last thing on his mind so he doesn’t even know what made him blurt that out. Maybe he was trying to get out of staying.
“Peter, your mental health is more important right now. I’ll talk to your father about that but I’m sure we can arrange for your schoolwork to get emailed here so you don’t fall behind. We get students of all ages year round and one of our priorities is that they keep up with their education.”
This is the last place he wanted to be, especially in a psych ward within a psych ward! He hated the idea of being watched the entire time because now that the drugs have worn off, he knew he wasn’t a danger to himself – so he thinks.
He hated feeling trapped, then he had a thought. “Hey, if I did what I did was because of the drug’s side effects then it wasn’t really me, right? Then why can’t I leave after the 72 hours? Why do I have to stay for at least two weeks!?” he asked trying to bargain his way out of it because to him, it was a clear case that it was the drug’s fault and not his if he was so called under the influence!
“Because Peter, you’re sicker than you realize. You confessed you think about having suicidal thoughts all the time and that’s dangerous, especially with your history. That’s the main reason you are here but you’ve also relapsed. Your eating disorder, depression and self-harm have returned and you need help again sweetheart. I know you know deep down you do too.”
Peter was crying harder because he couldn’t believe he put himself in this predicament again. He knew he was back sliding but didn’t care at the time. Everything he was doing was helping him through all that stress when he had to keep the blackmail a secret, even though he knew it was wrong but it served a purpose. He just did not care. He did what he had to do to get through another horrible day. He doesn’t even really care right now and feels scared they will take it all away again. He needs those coping mechanisms like he needs air to breathe. He feels them fighting to stay. That is the hardest part to overcome and he doesn’t know if he has the strength to do it again or even wants to this time.
Casey spoke up and got him out of his spiraling thoughts. “Ok, so first order of business is your meds. We need to get you back on your antidepressants again. We know you stopped taking them and that’s something you will have to talk to your doctor about on why you did that.”
She turned and grabbed a little cup with pills and a little cup with water that he didn’t notice on the side table and she handed them to him. He took them from her without any fuss. He knew he shouldn’t have stopped taking the meds on his own but he felt like he didn’t deserve to feel better about himself. Does he really have to explain that to his doctor though? It’s all going to be too much!
“Thank you.” She said and put the cups back on the table. “After you get changed, I’ll take you to the infirmary so they can replace the bandage on your arm and examine the stitches. They need to make sure the cuts aren’t infected because the blade was dirty from the pencil sharpener.” He felt ashamed of himself and couldn’t look her in the eye. “Then it’s breakfast. I’m sure you must be hungry since I’ve been told you’ve barely eaten these past two days and I know you have a fast metabolism.”
Great, on top of everything else they have to throw food into the mix again but as soon as she mentioned it his stomach growled because he was hungry though. He knew the first day he could try to get away with eating as little as possible. He realized that was the eating disorder talking but couldn’t stop those intrusive thoughts and really didn’t want them to go away either. Deep down he missed them in some weird way.
She got up and walked over to the table where his suitcase was. “Ok, Peter. Come here and pick out your clothes for the day. Same rule, for now you are only allowed to wear short sleeves for checks. When we’re in the infirmary they’ll provide you with a plastic wrap to cover your bandages so you can shower later. They’ll also look at the stitches on your forehead to see if they can come out.”
God, just thinking about what happened to him at the party brought back the shame and he had to know how much she knew, which hopefully wasn’t all of it so he had to ask. “Um, I was just wondering, were you told how this happened?” he asked sniffling and pointing to his head.
She gave him another sympathetic look which answered his question. “Yes, I was told everything, Peter. I know the whole story and I’m so sorry that happened to you. That wasn’t fair to you.”
The humiliation immediately turned into frustration and he pounded his fist on the bed which didn’t do a damn thing. “Ugh, I can’t believe you know! It was bad enough my family found out, my best friend and Dr. Cho, now you and everyone else here will know all of my secrets, too? They were secrets for a reason!” he snarled. He was so mad he could spit! “I didn’t want anyone to know and now everyone knows! How the hell am I supposed to get better if every time a new person finds out what happened to me all that shame just builds up more and more and comes back even stronger?! It never goes away, EVER and just it makes me want to…” and he took a deep breath because caught himself before he finished but they both knew what he was about to say.
Casey looked very concerned and walked back over to Peter. “And that’s why you’re here sweetheart, so you don’t give in and finish that sentence. Now, let’s get you out of bed and changed so we can start our day. It’s getting late already.”
He started panicking. “I didn’t mean it! It just slipped out!” he said trying to take it back but he knew it was too late and she just gave him a sad look which he hated. He felt awful for yelling at her. “I’m sorry Casey, I didn’t mean to shout at you. I’m just so done with everything,” he said deflated. He wiped some tears and then he swung his legs over to get out of bed and when he stood up, he felt dizzy and swayed. Shit! His legs felt like jelly!
“Woah Peter, sit back down before you fall down!” She grabbed his arm to help him sit back on the bed. “You’re white a sheet! Ok, new plan. You are not going anywhere until you eat. I’ll call down and have someone bring a tray up and then we’ll see how you feel afterwards. Hopefully getting something in your stomach will help. How do you feel right now?” she asked bending over staring into his eyes as she grabbed his chin.
Peter took a moment until the room stopped spinning a little. If he didn’t sit down right then and there he would have ended up on the floor! He felt shaky, too and could tell his blood sugar was tanking and he felt nauseous but didn’t want to admit it. He was hoping he wasn’t going to pass out so he took some controlled breaths. “I’m fine,” he lied to her but he knew she saw right through it.
She gave him a doubtful look but didn’t call him out on it. She looked very worried. “You sit tight, ok? I’ll be right back. I’m just going over to the nurse’s station to order your food even though you’re technically not supposed to eat in your room. But I’ll bend the rules in favor of you not fainting on me. Will you be ok by yourself for a few minutes?”
He started nodding but that made him feel worse so he stopped. “I’ll be fine,” he said holding his head.
“How about we have you lay back down on the bed, ok?” she said as more of a request and started helping him lay down which he didn’t protest. “There, I’m sure you’ll feel less dizzy this way.”
“That helps, thank you,” he told her because sitting up made it so much worse.
“I’ll be right back,” and then left the room leaving him laying there trying to get his bearings back.
When she left the room, he cried even harder. He forgot just how awful not eating could make you feel as he laid there feeling sick to his stomach trying to stop the room from spinning. Sure, he’s been getting away with skipping lunches but this is the longest he’s not eaten anything in a long time. He didn’t want to eat but he also didn’t want to feel this sick either. He was going to see how much he could eat to make himself feel better and hoping it wouldn’t be too much.
He was once again ashamed and embarrassed of himself. He can’t believe how he acted with his father and what he said under the influence of the drug interaction. It wasn’t fair! Nobody had the right to get inside his head with his most inner deepest (and disturbing) thoughts when he was that vulnerable all because he had no control over himself! If he had any sort of control, all of it would still be a secret and he wouldn’t have ended up here. He wouldn’t have put his father through that. God, he cut his wrist – vertically - in front of him and then told him he wanted to die? Jesus Christ! If his dad wasn’t there, how far would he have gone? That thought gave him a chill because he honestly didn’t know.
It was one bad nightmare after another and now he’s stuck in this place and will have to talk about everything he doesn’t want to talk about. He’s sick of talking about that stuff! He’s had therapy for as long as he could remember and no matter how much he has he seems to always end up at rock bottom every single time. He’s starting to think – what’s the point in any of it? If he stays at the bottom then nobody would expect anything from him and he wouldn’t disappoint anyone again. But at the same time, he knew it was those negative voices intruding and trying to keep him sick. He knew it was up to him if he wanted to get better – or let them win this time.
He was such in deep thought he didn’t notice Casey came back into the room until she startled him by touching his arm and calling his name. “ter? Hey, Peter? Are you ok? I can see your wheels spinning.”
He cleared his throat and wiped his tears. “That’s what my dad says to me all the time.” And with that thought, it made him miss his dad so much more. “Um, yea, sorry. Just lost in thought. I’m not feeling that dizzy anymore.”
“Well, that’s because you’re laying down sweetie,” she said with a smile. “Someone will be here in a few minutes with your tray. I ordered you a bunch of everything so you have choices since you couldn’t go down and choose yourself,” and he knew she saw how big his eyes got. “Just eat what you can, ok? But I want you to eat enough so you can walk without getting dizzy, deal? You’ve got places to be today,” she said winking at him.
He was quiet but nodded. He knew if he talked again he’d start crying more and he wanted the fresh tears to stop already. He can’t believe he’s back at crying over food anxiety again. He honestly didn’t think it was getting all that bad but being confronted with it was a huge wake up call for him. But he hates feeling dizzy so he’ll try to eat as much as he can or will allow himself to.
A few minutes later, right on cue, an orderly came in with his tray and his anxiety spiked. He took some deep breaths as he walked it over to him not taking his eyes off it for a second. Casey wheeled the over bed tray so the orderly can set it down in front of him. For some reason he couldn’t stop staring at it because it became the enemy again. He heard Casey thank him and then he left the room and she took the cover off. When the smell hit him, it made him nauseous but yet – hungry at the same time.
It seemed like if he ate, he’d be sick and if he didn’t eat – he’d be sick. He figured the food wasn’t going anywhere until he ate at least some of it so he picked up the fork and started playing with the scrambled eggs and poking at the pancakes. He didn’t know which one he wanted to try first. Then he picked up a piece of toast and put it back down. He picked up the little carton of orange juice, shook it and then put it back down without opening it. He used the fork again to move the bacon and sausage around the plate. Then he poured some cereal from the tiny box into the bowl and poured some milk on it but didn’t touch it.
This feeling he had was all too familiar but he hasn’t felt like this in a very long time. He was afraid to eat.
“Peter, stop playing with your food and start eating, please,” Casey said and he finally took his eyes off the tray to look at her staring back at him with her arms crossed. “Listen, I know you don’t like being watched so I’m going leave you to eat on your own while I do some work. But I’ll be watching through that window to make sure you’re eating and not disposing the food somewhere, got it? And I don’t want you out of this bed until I come back for you. I don’t want to come in here to find you face down on the floor, ok?” Peter nodded and sighed but remained quiet, still playing with his food. “Good, I know you can do it, you got this!” she said trying to encourage him before she left the room.
He stared back down at the tray of food. How the hell did he relapse this far in such a short amount of time? He was looking at it like it was the enemy again and he didn’t want it to win. He wanted to win, to be in control and not eat it.
Suddenly he saw a few tears hit the table and felt ashamed that he was crying – over food – again! He wiped them away and took a few deep breaths and tried to shake those thoughts off. No, winning meant eating, not not eating! If he wanted to be in control then he has to eat and not let it take the wheel and steer. If he let it, then it wins. He knew if he did then the eating disorder would definitely just take over and he’d be back at square one. He tried to think of everything he was taught over the years to try to overcome moments like this but it was so hard because all these voices in his head were so loud it was giving him a migraine.
They were fighting for control over him but when it came down to it, it was up to him who he lets win and right now he didn’t know.