Where's My GoodBye Card?

I have not yet been released because the fearless leader for the hospital was unable to speak with me today (she makes the ultimate decision), but it looks as though tomorrow will probably be my discharge day.

The social worker found three potential programs for me to attend on the outside -- programs that are either support groups or a program with a psychiatrist/psychopharmacologist -- which I prefer. But both of which will cost a fair amount of money, even though they are on a sliding scale. Unfortunately, attending one of these programs will be the only way I can maintain my prescriptions, so it looks as though I have no choice in the matter. I am seeking cheap sources for my medications as well as patient assistance programs to help out with the cost of my meds, but even these are not free.

It's very very discouraging to know that I could be spending more money on mood-stabilizing drugs and a psychiatrist/psychopharmacologist than I spend on rent each month. And I am a young, healthy, albeit unemployed, person! Imagine how much worse it would be if I was 20 years older and in this same situation!

Contrary to my previous impression, the institute is not throwing me out without any guidance or assistance (they will give me one week of drugs upon discharge, for example), but I will definitely be on my own. One one hand, this excites me, but on the other hand, it saddens me greatly. I had an excellent rapport with my current shrink, who is a medical resident here, and it fills me with tremendous loss to say goodbye to him. I don't trust easily, so I am filled with trepidation when it comes to finding a new shrink to fill his place. I also made some close friends here among the staff whom I am terribly sad to lose contact with.

So even though I am learning more about the programs that they are setting up for me, I am still very very sad because I wanted things to end differently. I didn't want this to end in a fight, neither a court battle (which, I learned today, I most likely would have won) nor with an unexpectedly early discharge after a financial emergency caused by the person caring for my birds.

Additionally, on my unit, there is a tradition where the patients get together and either make or purchase a goodbye card for the person being discharged. We all sneak around the unit with the card so all of us can surreptitiously write farewell wishes to our soon-to-be-discharged colleagues, all while the intended recipient pretends not to notice what is happening. But because of the sudden nature of my discharge, there is no goodbye card for me, neither purchased nor hand-made (which I far prefer). I badly want a hand-made card, a collage card made by my roommate, who is a collage genius, and I want it filled to overflowing with sentiments from my fellow inmates and the staff and doctors -- a card that I would keep forever.

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And then what happened?

How the heck did this nuthouse story get started in the first place?

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