(Disclaimer: Picture was not taken at a place of patient care)
I walked through the gates to the inpatient psychiatric hospital and then waited alongside my classmates for the professor to let us in through the main door. We met in the conference room to receive our keys and unit assignments before setting off through the maze of locked doors and pastel hallways. After unlocking, relocking, and double-checking at least half a dozen doors, we made it to the unit.
The final door opened into a massive courtyard with a sidewalk lacing the perimeter. Some of the patients meandered around the block while others lined the brick walls. Yells hung in the air from around the facility. Stares came from all directions. I felt like I didn't belong here. At this point, my anxiety had begun to set in. The only encounters I previously had with inpatient psychiatric units were through television, media, and haunted houses- all of which were grossly inaccurate. Many of the patients we saw were filtered in through the criminal justice system, so they were court-mandated to stay for an allotted amount of time. I had this picture of danger and fear painted in my mind, but that quickly changed.
I began to interview my first patient, and I realized that these people really are no different than you and me. They have families and friends. They have hopes and aspirations. They have parts of their cultures and beliefs that they hold near and dear. We laughed about some trivial things and really connected. Honestly, these were some of the sweetest, most down to earth people I have ever met.
After conducting a few interviews, it was time to go to the daily scheduled activities. Most of the time, the morning options consisted of either yoga or music class. Then in the afternoon, the classes focused on the specific DSM-5 diagnoses. It was so amazing to me that from day one, the patients were being equipped with a toolbox of knowledge and positive coping skills to take with them throughout their healing journey.
After the final class session of the day, we had a brief amount of time to just take in the atmosphere and talk more with the patients. I remember sitting at a picnic table next to a group of men that were strumming away on their guitars and singing their souls out. Another group across the courtyard was energetically playing a game of pickup basketball. There was so much life and hope. I was in the presence of healing. I found myself wanting to hold onto this moment for as long as possible. Although this clinical rotation wasn't always easy or peaceful, there were truly such beautiful moments of human expression.
Throughout the whole semester, I really learned to assess my biases. There are so many misconceptions about mental illness, and I still find myself learning more about how I can become a more competent practitioner. We all have blind spots in our judgment and perceptions, but this is a place for growth. The first step is just acknowledging it. I am so grateful for every patient interaction I had throughout my short few months at the hospital and can't wait to continue serving this population in the future.
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