Part 38 (1/2)
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”Yes,” I said. ”It was really scary. Do you know how she is doing?”
”She is doing a lot better. It's thanks to you, Kristen. If you hadn't called for help for her, she could have been seriously injured. Now she's somewhere where she will get the full attention she needs. Bent Creek is not the best place for someone with extremes like Janine has. She has to be somewhere where they can watch her constantly.”
”You mean an inst.i.tution?” I asked him.
Dr. Pelchat nodded softly. ”Janine's not necessarily in an inst.i.tution. She's in a long-term care facility where the doctors and staff are a little less lenient and are more watchful.”
”They won't hurt her, right?”
”No,” Dr. Pelchat a.s.sured me with a strong tone. ”They will see to it that Janine gets the full attention and help that she needs to get her to full recovery. She will get the care that we here at Bent Creek are not fully equipped to handle here. We are just a shortterm, in-patient facility. We only keep patients up to a maximum of four to five weeks, if that. If, at the end of that time, we don't see progress, then we make the necessary arrangements for you to go to a long-term facility, like Janine.”
I thought back to when I had been in the room with Mena. She had said something about people who had gotten out of the hospital and attempted suicide again, and then succeeded. I grew scared thinking about Janine.
I asked, ”Is it true that there are people who become statistics?”
”What kind of a statistic?”
”I heard that forty percent of the people who are hospitalized for attempted suicide get released, and then do it again. But then they succeed and die because of it.”
”Where did you hear that?”
”I just heard some people talking,” I lied.
He shook his head and said, ”I don't think that forty percent is quite the accurate number. It is true that some patients are released from psychiatric care when their condition has not gotten better, even though it may seem that way. Some of them do carry out their original plans and succeed. That's why most doctors do their best to make sure that, if extended care is needed for these patients, they'll get it by staying longer in treatment, or they are sent to a facility that can provide the care they need. In Janine's case, she was sent to a long-term care hospital.”
Scared, I held back my tears the best I could.
”Am I going to have to go there, too?”
Dr. Pelchat leaned forward in his chair and unfolded his hands. He looked deeply into my eyes.
”Kristen, your condition is serious. However, I don't believe that you need to go to a long-term inpatient facility. I do not think that it is so severe that I cannot help you now, or even after you are released from here. You will need long-term treatment, but the kind of treatment that I can provide for you once you are out of here will not require barred windows and padded walls.”
”What are you saying?” I couldn't take it much longer.
”Your test results were very clear. You do have Borderline Personality Disorder.”
I don't know why - it wasn't as if I wasn't expecting it but tears immediately shot out of my eyes. Soft sobs filled my chest. It was like finding out my favorite pet had died. I was realizing that I was losing my mind, and a doctor was confirming it. Everything I'd read in that book he had given me had hit too close to home for it not to be true.
”Kristen, this is not the end. This is not a definitive label. This is the beginning of your healing. This is getting what needs to be out in the open so that we can start your healing process. I want to help you during the time that you have left here and thereafter. Borderline Personality Disorder does not make you who you are. It is just a diagnosis. It's what is causing you to behave the way you do and think the way you do. It's not you. It's a disorder. And we are going to work together to help you cope, deal, and eventually heal with medication, out-patient individual therapy, and even family group therapy. You will not suffer with this forever.”
”I know,” I told him through mumbles and tears. I grabbed a tissue from the Kleenex box on his desk and blew my nose. ”I was just hoping that there was a chance that I didn't have to suffer with this.”
”To be honest,” Dr. Pelchat began, ”I'm relieved.”
”Why?”
”Because it could have been a lot worse. I'm glad that we took the time to get the test done and wait for the results before putting you on any other medications. I didn't want to diagnose you with BPD without being completely sure, and you know that I'm not going to just give you any random medication based off a hunch. I didn't agree to it when Dr. Cuvo first came to me with your case. That's why I wanted to see you myself.”
”Was I that complicated?”
”Not complicated. We wanted to be sure,” he told me sincerely. ”And now you and I are going to get you onto the path of healing, together. Not everyone with BPD suffers forever. It's going to take a lot of work. I will do my part, and I know that you will do yours.”
”Sometimes I don't feel that I'm even strong enough to do anything,” I told him.
”You were not strong when you tried to kill yourself. But you were strong enough to stick it out here in Bent Creek, and you were strong enough to start to open up in group therapy. You were even strong enough to take the test. It wasn't just because you felt you had to, but because somewhere deep down inside, you wanted to know exactly what was going on with you. You want to know if you can heal. You want help. To sit there, listen to all of this, and take it in as well as you are doing, I have to say, makes you even stronger than I am giving you credit for. You are already healing. Kristen, give yourself some credit.”
”No,” I said through my last few tears. ”I'm crying like a baby.”
”Crying is okay,” he said. ”If you weren't crying, and if you were just sitting there with no reaction, then I'd be worried about you. You are handling this very well. Tell me, do you feel that this diagnosis is accurate, based on what you read in the book I gave you, what you understand about BPD, and what you've noticed within yourself?”
I nodded my head in full honesty.
”Based on what you understand about Borderline Personality Disorder, can you tell me what you notice within yourself that makes you feel this is an accurate diagnosis for you?”
I took a deep breath and tried to pull myself together enough to talk about this. It was harder than it seemed. It wasn't easy to pour myself out to Dr. Pelchat, but it was what he wanted from me. He was trying to be my doctor and help me.
”I don't know how to explain it. The way I think about certain situations and the way I feel that I have to handle them, it doesn't seem like it's the right way, but I don't know any other way. Today, my best friend came to see me, and she wanted to tell me about her engagement. All I could think about was how terrible I felt and how angry I was. She tried to be nice to me, and she had come all the way out here to see me. I was angry with her for not answering the phone on the night I had hurt myself. I blamed her for what I had done, but I knew that it wasn't her fault. She didn't know at the time I had called what I had done. I just kept thinking that if I kept pus.h.i.+ng her b.u.t.tons, I could make her upset and hurt her. I thought that if I hurt her I would feel better somehow. I thought that it would relieve my guilt and pain. It only made me feel worse, because now I know she hates me. I'm such a mess. Why do I do this? Every time! Why do I feel that I have to be like this? I push everyone away before anyone can hurt me or leave me. Why do I do this?”
”Kristen, you just said it.”
”There's something rotten inside of me that makes me rotten,” I told him. ”I'm rotten, and I can't see it, like everyone else, but I know I am because of these thoughts and these feelings. They can see it. My mother, my father, Jack, John, and now Lexus--everyone. I was even afraid that Dr. Cuvo would see it.”
”What happens when they see it, Kristen?”
”They hate me. They try to get rid of me. They stop talking to me. They show me what a real burden I am. They all hate me.”
”Do you really think that your mother hates you?”
I stayed silent for a moment and kept my gaze on the snotty tissue in my hand. Did I really think that my mother hated me? She did make sure that I was brought to the hospital. She was there for me when I needed help. I did realize this even before Dr. Pelchat asked me that question. I threw the tissue in the wastebasket beside Dr. Pelchat's desk. Then, I finally shook my head.
”She doesn't hate me,” I said. ”She just wants me to be away from her so that she won't have to deal with me. She can't wait for me to turn eighteen so that she can have a reason to make me leave. It's because of that...”
”That rotten thing that is inside of you,” Dr. Pelchat said. He seemed to understand what I was trying to say.
”Right.” The sharp metal ball turned slowly in my chest. I held back my pathetic tears.
”Now you know what that rotten thing is, Kristen.”
”It is me.”
”It's not you,” he said. ”It's the illness. It's BPD. Now that you know what it is that is causing these thinking errors, you can do whatever it takes to get rid of this rotten disorder. It's very important that you know this and accept that it is not you. BPD is not you! You are not rotten. I know that this is going to be hard for you to get right away, because you are so used to the way your mind is conditioned. Your mom, your family, and your friends do not hate you. They will not leave you. We are going to start getting rid of those thinking errors that cause you to feel otherwise. You are going to get into your mind the right way of thinking. We are going to start with the fact that BPD is a serious disorder, and you will not be ignored or abandoned. It's time to re-shape your mind and get rid of these thoughts that are trying to destroy you.”
I thought back to Mena and what she'd said about how I should open my mind to the fact that there may be nothing wrong with me. That I may be smarter than Lexus, and how the doctors want to use medicine and mind-bending therapy to blind us. I didn't know what to believe. I wanted to be rid of this Borderline Personality Disorder. I really did not want to feel the way I felt and think the way I thought. However, how was I to be sure that that's what the problem was? How was I to be sure that I wasn't the problem?
I was very scared. I was scared to think of what it would be like to be normal, like Lexus, and not have that rotten thing inside of me. I couldn't see myself without seeing and knowing how terrible I was and I couldn't see myself without Mr. Sharp. What would I be like without cutting? I'd be oblivious. I'd be blinded.