Ugh, yesterday sucked. What should have been a happy fun day was not. It was my one year anniversary. I spent it in a hospital.
Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I did. Hopefully my husband can get the help he needs for a problem he doesn't want to admit he has. Hell, I didn't want to admit it. He's never acted this way in the three years that I've known him. I'm hoping that he starts talking to the doctors soon. I had him convinced to last night. The paranoia that is haunting him is downright scary. He has accused me of everything from being a cop to faking this pregnancy. He almost got us killed in a car accident.
I am pretty convinced that he's in a manic phase of bipolar disorder. Only time, and doctors will tell. I wish I had seen it for what it was earlier, maybe it wouldn't have taken such drastic measures, but I didn't know. I am very lucky. He knew something was wrong, and he knew he needed to go to the hospital. He went willingly, although by the time we went, he could barely move under his own power. He acted as though he were in physical pain. I had to leave him there. That was, by far, the hardest thing I've ever done. I left in tears and headed to my parents' house. I wasn't ready to come home yet. From there, I spoke with the psych nurse several times. Kyle wouldn't talk to anyone, she told him that he was the worst case they had seen in a while. He was lying on a bed crying, nothing he said was discernible. She thought it would be wise for me to go ahead and fill out a petition, just in case he tried to leave. I agreed. There was no way I thought he should be anywhere but where he was.
I drove back to fill out the paperwork, and the psych nurse surprised me. She told me that if I was ok with it, I should talk to Kyle, and I should try to talk him into being cooperative and accepting treatment. Of course I was agreeable. I want to see my husband get better. I went in to see him, he saw me and started sobbing. We got him into a small private room, and all he would say is, "I want to go home." I told him he couldn't, that I thought he was going to hurt himself. We talked for a while and I was able to get him to stop crying. The nurse came in and asked him if he wanted treatment. He consented, and I sighed relief. The other nurse came in a few minutes later and offered him Zyprexa for the psychotic effects he was having. About 20 minutes later, I saw my husband for the first time in 5 days. We had a good conversation. I was even able to make him smile. I thought it was going to be hard to leave him again, and I dreaded it from the start. The Zyprexa made him very sleepy though, and I asked him if he was ready for bed. He was. I walked him over to the bed and tucked him in, kissed him goodnight and left.
This next few days is going to be hard. Luckily we have a great support system. My mom stayed with me last night, his mom will be here tonight. This is a long, rough road, but we are a strong couple, and I know we will get through it. As I told Kyle last night, it's a big bump, but we need to get in the truck and run it the fuck over.