You guys hit the nail on the head. It was awful getting into this program.
I looked up programs with my insurance company and was directed to a behavioral health wing of the local hospital. The website stated that it provided medical detox.
https://www.bannerhealth.com/services/behavioral-health-mental-health/treatment/hospitalization
My surgeon AND my family doctor called ahead to gt me in but they were told that I had to go through ER.
So, shaking and sick, I watched my son graduate from university last Friday and had my husband drive me to the hospital.
The ER was full. Mostly old people who are either visitors or suspicious of urgent care. There was one empty seat so I sent my husband home at 1pm.
I was triaged 45 minutes later. They asked why I was there and I explained that I need to detox from opiates. They asked if I was in withdrawals. I was 45 minutes late for my oxy so I said "yes". I started to cry. The doctor in the triage unit pulled up my file and saw that i did have surgery in their hospital system two months earlier. He typed some stuff and the nurse said that he put in orders for me and that I would be getting the help that I need. However, I would have to wait my turn because I would need to be medially cleared.
So I waited. Over four hours. I gave in and took the oxy at 3:25. Had I been in w/ds I would have been in shit shape. Finally, they bring me back. But I need to wait in the hall for another hour while they get a room ready.
I called my husband and he sat with me. Finally, five hours after arriving, I am put into a room. I asked the attendant if I would go straight to detox. He said that I would likely be stabilized for w/ds and sent home.
WTF?
They tried to get me a gown and to hook me up to monitors. I declined. They tried and IV. I declined. I said that I wanted to speak to the behavioral health ward before we went any further. I said that the doc in triage had put in orders for me. It meant nothing. An hour later, a social worker slinked in and handed me a sheet of paper with a list of other detox centers with and admonishment to make sure they took my insurance. I went bug eyed.
I refused to accept the paper and to leave. I demanded to speak to someone on that floor. The social worker got pissed and said that she would have to call up there, that there may not even be a bed, and there likely wasn't a doctor available. I was enraged that she was putting the burden on me that I wanted her to do her damn job. During this, my husband's phone was recording everything. She eventually came back and said that I needed to be approved by a crisis counselor interview. Again, like I was asking too much.
It went like this: I am NOT leaving. Your hospital advertises this service. Your hospital takes my insurance. I have a medical need and I am coming to you for help. You have no right to deny me this service. And since not a single doctor has stood up for me when I needed it,I will stand up for myself. I will wait for the counselor.
My husband added: If anything happens to my wife as a result of you turning her away, when it was your surgeon who got her hooked, and your hospital that didn't follow up on her care, I will hold you responsible legally.
Not 15 minutes later, she wheeled in a computer for a Skype call. I was to speak to a crisis counselor. She wanted to know what was going on. Having someone who wanted to listen just broke me wide open. I told her about the surgery and how I wasn't on medication before it, but now I am addicted. I told her how I feared the shaking of withdrawals causing me to fall on my delicate hip replacement. I told her that I was afraid of my kids finding me knocked out because I had double dosed at least once to stop the withdrawals. This wasn't enough.
She wanted to know if I had ever been molested.
I had to dredge up 40 year old memories to satisfy her criteria for emotional instability. I wasn't suicidal or homicidal. But somehow being an abuse victim was sufficient. The worst of it was when my husband said to her something that he hadn't said to me. He said that I had changed and he didn't know me anymore. He said my kids had to take turns watching me because he didn't know what he would come to.
The counselor said that she would speak to the doctor.
They moved me to another area to free up space. I was placed with a nurse who had just been grabbed from the behavioral ward to help with the crowd. In the end, I think she was the pivotal human player in getting me in because she understood my story and ran back and forth to the doctor on the phone to plead my case. More hours passed while I was consumed with anxiety about being sent home. Finally, 14 hours after arriving to ER, I was brought upstairs. I had to go through an invasive exam and all of my belongings but my shirt and panties were bagged. My husband brought me a nightgown which I wore while I walked the halls for hours (with my walker) in panic as the withdrawals came. I was inducted on subs at the 26th hour.
While there I found many people detoxing, but they had been brought in in ambulances or police cars. None had checked themselves in.
I am horrified that asking for help isn't enough. If addiction is a disease, why do they have a right to deny treatment? Addiction has become a CHARACTER issue. They feel comfortable pushing our problems back on us. Our culture won't shame an obese over-eater who faces a myriad of lifestyle diseases that drain our insurance resources, but they will send an addict to suffer alone because somehow being a glutton is more desirable than wanting to escape reality with a pill, or being trapped in dependence.
So that's how I got in. They turned me inside out and made me feel small and worthless before giving me an opportunity to heal. Once in, it was wonderful. I was treated with respect and kindness. But I fought and had to cry, and threaten, and fall into despair.
Finally, but not finally, I give all thanks to God for comforting me in the dark and quiet, and providing a way during this time when I was scared and helpless. I sang to Him for five days and my experience in that unit has changed my life in more ways than I can ever express.
