Editor’s Note: Kayla’s Korner will be a reoccurring column that deals with mental health and teenage issues. This is the third of an eight part story.
It felt like hours before the ambulance finally came and I honestly was terrified. I had never been in an ambulance in my life before.
I did not understand why I even had to take an ambulance to an inpatient facility. Why couldn’t my mom just drive me?
It had to happen, the hospital staff had said. I felt like it was unnecessary, but they did not really care.
About an hour after they said the ambulance was coming, it arrived. I looked outside my door and there were two paramedics with a stretcher waiting for me.
I hesitated, but then went onto the stretcher with both paramedics helping me on and buckling me in.
Then, with me on the stretcher, they rolled me to the exit which was a far distance away. I passed room after room and felt so embarrassed. I was not physically hurt so there was no real reason for me to be on a stretcher.
When we reached the ambulance which was right outside the hospital, they rolled me in and wrapped me in a blanket. The paramedic said it got pretty cold in the ambulance and that it was going to be quite a long drive.
The second paramedic went up front to drive while my mom, the other paramedic, and me were in the back. We were on our way to the inpatient facility where I would be staying for I did not know how long.
The ride there was awkward because the paramedic kept asking me if I was okay and trying to make small talk. It was weird because the ambulance siren or lights were not on because we were not in an emergency. The ambulance was just transporting to the facility.
It took about an hour with all the traffic, but I finally arrived at the inpatient facility.
I kept asking if I could walk into the facility, but they said I had to be rolled in on the stretcher. I hated it.
The facility was what you would expect. It had white walls and long, creepy hallways. Once we got to a certain door, the paramedics had to buzz in to get into the locked room.
Once we were let in, I finally was allowed off of the stretcher allowing me to stretch both my arms and legs that were covered in my old hospital clothes.
I was then brought in by myself to a separate room with a head staff member of the facility. She asked me some questions and we just talked a little bit about everything.
After, I was let into a different room where I walked across a large living room where I saw multiple teenagers and children staring at me.
I walked through a locked door, that again I had to be buzzed into, and was then strip searched, known as “the quiet room.”
After talking about the procedure with the same nurse, I was let back into the living room.
I was scared out of my mind.
Coming next: Kayla explains a day in an inpatient facility.