Once we get on the highway we will start to make some headway. But I’ll be driving faster, and we’ll talk about different things. I just want to make sure you remember everything about me. That I suffered an acute form of postpartum depression. I know I almost left you, but you have been a great passenger, always letting me change my tune. You were a real trooper in the motel, and we agreed on the itinerary at once. You listened so well to how it happened, too. What really happened, what happened the night before, and what happened next. What happened in the hospital surprised you, too, and I haven’t even explained all of that.
I spent nine days in the hospital in total. Those nine days were full of more “tests” and delusional thoughts. They made me eat, but, like I explained to them, I would not eat without my children. Other patients and the nurses made sure I complied, however, and though it was like jail I did receive medical attention that I was needing. I haven’t heard from the hospital since discharge (except for calls from the billing department) and finding a psychiatrist has been difficult. We all know that healthcare in America is lacking. Well, I could write a book. But I’m not writing an expose on mental healthcare in America. I’m just cruising through my emotions, stories, and experiences. And you’ve just happened to come along for the ride. Thanks for your company so far.