A Silent Ambulance Ride

Another day in paradise

I’m strapped down to a gurney, riding in an ambulance. The only sirens blaring were those in my mind. Moments earlier I sat in the ER waiting for a bed at the psychiatry ward to open up. A dead-pan expression crosses the overworked doctor’s face as she bluntly tells me I’ll spend anywhere from three hours to three days here. No books, no phone, no friendly nurse to pass the time. Severe depression makes the idea of a long wait in an ICU bed without the medication I’ve taken for the last 15 years only feed my anxiety more. A security guard watches me as if I’m some high-profile criminal. Eerily, I hang there, waiting for an available bed.

Twelve hours earlier, around 7am, the day starts with heightened anxiety and deep mental fatigue. The world continues revolving around me: therapy groups, meals, phone conversations. But I can’t stop pacing. By noon— four hours before my ER admission, that necessary stop before getting a psych bed—I’ve walked 22,000 steps. My mind muddled, my body exhausted.

Momentary relief sets in when I begin to take action: I quietly gather clothes for the psych stay, get in the van, and ride to the ER. Taking action to heal feels good.

I fill in my wife, Kia. And then I remember what the future holds: bad food, white walls, and extreme boredom while battling depression and anxiety.

I’m running out of phone time as I’ve returned back to the residential treatment center. Successfully out of the hospital. Just because the ambulance was quiet from the ER to the psych ward, it doesn’t mean the trip was not serious.

---

*I would’ve like to explain in further detail but I have limited phone time here and had to write on my phone. Hopefully more to come soon!