An open letter on what to expect from psychiatric hospitalization
en EspañolHaving to admit your child to an inpatient psychiatric hospital is scary. Knowing what to expect and what you need to do will help make things go as smoothly as possible.
You will be asked about your family’s mental health history. Be 100 percent honest. Someone will go through your child’s belongings and take out anything that could be dangerous to them or others. Ask a lot of questions. Take lots of notes. Find out when and for what reasons the hospital might contact you. You will be able to call the nurse’s station to check on your child. You will be able to visit your child. Know that they will most likely be on a locked ward.
It’s important to understand that the hospital is not going to cure your child of whatever illness has landed them in the hospital. They are there to diagnose your child, possibly start treating them with medication, and get to the point where they can safely go home for outpatient treatment. You will have to make sure you have a plan and a doctor before your child can go home. The hospital can help with that.
Days at the hospital have lots of structure, which is good for your child. There will be group therapy and activities. Chances are, you will get upsetting or angry calls from your child. Tell your child you love them. You understand how hard this is but there is nothing else to do right now.
Take notes during every call and meeting. If your child has a psychiatrist, keep them in the loop. Get a copy of all records from the hospital. And take care of yourself. This is hard on you, too.
Dear Parent,
I am so sorry you need to read this letter. If your child is heading for hospitalization, you are in a tough place, and a scary one. Hopefully, as you read this you will have a better idea of what lies ahead.
Assuming your child has been referred to inpatient from an emergency room, once an inpatient bed is found, your child will be transported by ambulance to the facility. You will be allowed to ride along. There will be another intake assessment upon arrival, at which you will have to re-tell the saga of what led up to the hospitalization. You will be asked about your family’s history of mental illness. Be 100% honest. Genetics play a huge role in mental health, and if you have an aunt withschizophrenia,
a cousin who committed suicide and your spouse’s Grandpa Joe self-treated his depression with alcohol, this is relevant to the kinds of medications that may be appropriate for your child.
Ask under what circumstances the hospital will reach out to you. There are likely to be only three situations that trigger a phone call:
You will be able to call the nurse’s station whenever you want to find out how your child is doing, to ask questions, or to ask to have the doctor or social worker call you. Put the number of the nursing station into your phone immediately so you don’t lose it.
If you have missed a meal in transit, ask for food. Most intake departments will have sandwiches or something on hand, but the actual unit will not.
Someone will sort through your child’s belongings and decide what can and can’t stay on the unit. Anything sharp, made of glass or long enough to tie around the neck (including belts, drawstrings and shoelaces) will not be permitted. Some hospitals do a body check, so that the hospital has an inventory of the patient’s wounds and scars prior to entry. Then your child will be brought over to their room. You will probably be allowed to go along to say goodbye.
Prepare yourself. The psychiatric unit will almost certainly be locked with a two-stage door system. You will later have to show ID to enter, and phones with cameras are usually not allowed (so no one can post pictures of patients online). A nurse on the unit will ask you whose names should be placed on the visitor list. In some cases, only family is permitted. You are not obligated to include relatives who will be critical of you or your child when they visit. Only list people who will be helpful.
You will almost surely cry after you leave your child and the door is locked behind you. You are allowed. But if you are so overwhelmed that you feel numb, that’s normal, also.
The key bit of information you need to swallow up front is that the sole purpose of an inpatient stay is to stabilize your child enough so that they can be discharged to outpatient care. In other words, they aren’t going to cure anything here. At best, your child’s symptoms or behavior will improve by 10%, maybe 20%. That’s a long way from the complete hell you’ve been living in, but it’s almost certainly not what you were hoping for.
As with other hospitals, nothing of substance happens on weekends. If your child enters on a Friday, Saturday, or Sunday, he won’t be evaluated by the regular team on the unit until Monday.
Once the doctors have visited with your child (you won’t be there when this happens), they will come up with a workingdiagnosis.
Your child’s day will be structured on a schedule that includes a daily (brief) check-in by medical staff, school (usually only an hour or two, of limited educational value, but your child will get attendance credit), and various group therapies. These may include classes or groups on coping skills, information on mental health, andfamily therapy.
Some hospitals also use experiential therapies that incorporate animals, music, art, or horticulture. There is unlikely to be any individual counseling. Remember, the goal isn’t to get to the bottom of anything. The goal is to get your child stable enough to move to outpatient treatment, where long-term work takes place.
The TV in the day room will blare during free time, and much of the day will be very low-key. This can make it seem that the hospital isn’t doing much of anything. What they do is provide structure, medication, and monitoring. (If you stop to think about it, this is pretty much what a medical hospital does, too, minus the structure). The group therapies do tend to force depressed kids to get up and do something and tend to tone down the pace of the over-activated kids.
Most psychiatric hospitals use some kind of level system in which the kids earn privileges if they comply with behavioral expectations. You don’t need to know the details; your child will gripe about them. Your job is to nod and empathize.
You may be shocked by the limited visiting hours. Then again, you’re likely to have some ambivalence about visiting or are unable to get to the hospital easily. You don’t need to come every day; the most important time to visit is on the weekends when there’s less structure and less for the kids to do. If you bring food (which your child will probably beg you to do), ask in advance about what’s allowed. Bring it in a paper bag; plastic won’t be allowed.
There will be a ton of rules. The ridiculous nature of many of them will be the topic of your conversation with your child over the next several days. That’s okay. Expect complaints.
The doctor is usually required to discuss medication changes with you prior to implementing anything. If your child already has a psychiatrist, make sure the inpatient doctor is in contact throughout the stay. Besides knowing your child better than the inpatient doctor, your child’s psychiatrist will also be responsible for monitoring the effects of any medication changes over the long haul, so communication is important.
Things you will want to ask about medications (and take notes about):
Keep good records of what medications your child is on, when dosages change, and any notable changes in behavior.
You are likely to have many intense feelings about having a child in a psychiatric hospital. Please, allow yourself to feel them all. All of them are real — including shame, guilt, fear, anger, sadness, and relief — and you will be better able to help your child if you process your own emotions. Your partner’s mix of feelings will undoubtedly be different than yours. You’re both allowed to feel what you feel. With whatever shred of emotional margin you have, be kind to each other, for you are each hurting in your own way.
No matter what thoughts and feelings are bumbling their way through your mind, there is one thing you will need to tell yourself over and over again: your child is SAFE. This, at least, is good.
Now that your child is safe, it’s time to take care of yourself. By all means, take a day or two to fall apart and give vent to your feelings, but after you’ve gotten your sea legs back on, you must, must, must make use of this time to replenish yourself.
It is not disrespectful of your child’s pain to do something that nourishes your heart and soul. You matter, too. You have been through a horrific ordeal. And here’s a fact: your kid is coming back. You need to use this time to breathe and grow stronger because it ain’t over yet. Call your own therapist, consult with your pastor, and get a pedicure. Do whatever makes you more resilient and adds energy or perspective to your life. Give yourself permission to go out with a friend, laugh, get your hair cut, or shoot pool with a buddy. Go for that long run, have a glass of wine with your bestie, or take a long walk in the woods. Whatever gives you oxygen.
Note that what rejuvenates you may be different than what you normally do to relax. Often what we do to wind down is numb ourselves with entertainment. That is anesthesia, not oxygen. Oxygen is the stuff that makes us stronger and gets our blood pumping again. Whatever makes that happen for you, do it.
Any guilt or worries you have about having your child in the hospital may be compounded by how they react to being there. Kids often feel ashamed, confused, and scared about being in a mental health facility. Because they are kids, they are likely to take their feelings out on the person they love the most, the person who is safest: you.
You will not be the first parent to be called the worst mother in the world, nor the last to be on the receiving end of a blistering “How could you do this to me?” Don’t take it personally, even if it’s addressed to you. Regardless of your fear (and your child’s assertion) that they’ll hate you for the rest of their life, they probably won’t. In fact, they probably won’t even remember the details of this stay any more than you have a clear memory of being in labor. They will remember that they suffered, and that’s about it. So when you receive that tenth venomous phone call or hear yet another heart-wrenching plea to get them out of there, breathe.
You can try to reason with your child, but don’t expect to get far. Remember, they’re not entirely themselves right now. And logic is rarely effective at de-fanging emotion, anyway. You’ll probably make the most progress by acknowledging and empathizing with their underlying feelings:
“It sounds like you’re really scared.”
“You must be really angry that you have to be there.”
“You sound miserable. I’m so sorry it’s so rough.”
You’ll know you’re on the right track when you get a skin-removing response like, “OF COURSE I’m miserable! Do you actually expect me to be happy here?”
Breathe. Respond to your child’s feelings instead of reacting to the words. Keep going with the validation: “Aww, I’m sorry it sucks so much. I sure wish there were a better way, but there isn’t.”
If you’re too fragile to manage this approach (or the calls simply get to be too much for you), talk to nursing staff about limiting phone access. Alternatively, don’t pick up every call. You don’t have to “be there” for your kid every single hour of the day. It’s okay to set limits. Healthy, even.
If you’ve had experience with other types of hospitals, you know that even in good facilities, it’s possible to encounter an overbearing nurse, a doctor who doesn’t listen well, or some sort of aggravating glitch in care. To get the best care possible, you will have to advocate for your child.
There are three obstacles to advocating well.
As with any other type of hospital visit, you will find it easier to figure out what is going on if you take good notes during each meeting or after every conversation.
It will happen at just about the time you’re starting to get the hang of this inpatient thing: They’ll start talking discharge. Be forewarned that the key determinant of when your child is released is what your insurance company will pay for. You may or may not agree that your child is ready to come home. Usually, the discharge discussion takes place several days or even a week before the actual discharge.
If your initial reaction to the news is a screaming, “Nooooo!” you will want to pause and examine what’s going on in your head. You may suddenly remember how bad things were before the hospitalization and feel insecure because you don’t know what life will be like in the next phase. Take a bit of time to process that.
Then again, some of your reactions to discharge planning may be spot-on intuition that your child truly isn’t ready. This, too, merits examination. Make sure you articulate any specific concerns to the doctor, especially if, in your private conversations with your child, they have indicated that they still want to kill themselves or you suspect your child is lying in order to get out.
Some parents become upset because the hospital wants a longer stay than feels strictly necessary. Ask why they want this. Common reasons are that a follow-up plan of care isn’t in place yet or that the doctors feel it isn’t safe to discharge your child until they have met certain conditions.
If your child was suicidal or made an attempt, you will want to ask how much of his new medication constitutes an overdose. Yes… ouch. But this is better to know than not know. Ask this several days before discharge because you may need to buy a lockbox or safe in which to store medication. You’ll also need a medication dispensing tray (available in any pharmacy) to set up a week’s worth of medication at a time. You don’t want to retrieve bottles multiple times a day because the more you open and close a lockbox, the greater the odds are that you’ll leave the key somewhere, or your child will see the combination.
Ask if it’s safe to leave a tray with a week’s worth of medications out and accessible. Believe it or not, the doctor probably won’t know the answer off the top of their head unless the medication is particularly potent. If it’s dangerous to leave a week’s worth of medication out, buy a tray with detachable compartments that allow you to take a day’s worth out at a time. That way, you can organize the whole week, keep the bulk of it in the lockbox, and take out only a single day’s medication.
If your child has been suicidal or made an attempt, while your child is still hospitalized, do a clean sweep of your home, and especially his room. Hopefully, the doctors have told you what method of a suicide your child was contemplating. This will help you prioritize what to remove or look for. Lock up high-risk items like firearms, all prescriptions (including your own), and over-the-counter medications like Tylenol and aspirin. Remove poisons (including toxic cleaning products), sharp objects like razors and knives, and large plastic bags. You will also need to wrestle with how to make sure that for the next few weeks, your child is not left alone for more than very short periods of time at home.
If you suspect your child has hidden something dangerous (sharps, medications, illicit drugs) but you still can’t find it, Google “best places to hide ____ in your bedroom.” Chances are your kid has visited that page ahead of you.
For a more comprehensive list of steps to take to “sanitize” your home, check the Grief Speaks website.
Get the discharge instructions that tell you what to do, and be sure to sign a release saying you’d like the discharge summary when it is ready and to whom you want the discharge summary sent. If your child was given any kind of psychological or ed-psych testing while on the unit, make sure to get a copy of those results before leaving, too.
Important:
If you or someone you know needs help now, call 988 to reach the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline.
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