Psychotic Breakdown

For privacy reasons, I am leaving out names from this story. Just don’t ask.

Last night while I was at Quinn’s Pub with friends, I got several phone calls from a woman with whom I’ve gone on a couple of dates over the last few weeks. Since Quinn’s was rather loud and I didn’t want to rudely interrupt the dinner party, I let the calls go to voice mail. When I left the restaurant, I checked them. The first came from B asking if I planned to go out dancing at Noc Noc later, as she was considering heading going to Club V. She called a second time about 30 minutes later saying she thought Club V was too expensive and she might go to the Noc Noc instead.

I thought the calls a bit odd, since in my conversation with her the previous night I’d been pretty clear I planned to attend the second night of Fever (a new disco night) at the Noc Noc. Nevertheless, I called her back and offered to drive to her place to give her a ride to Noc Noc if she wished. She said that would be fine, and that a friend of hers would be meeting her at the park and ride near her place to go as well. I said I would be happy to drive her as well so they wouldn’t have to take the bus.

I arrived about 5 minutes later than I expected due to writing up the Quinn’s review, playing with the site’s infrastructure, and not watching the time. Now the first really strange thing of the night happened. I pulled into B’s parking lot and called her to say I’d arrived. She didn’t answer, so I left a short message saying I’d arrived. I would have walked up to her place and knocked, but I didn’t know the unit in which she lived. In retrospect, that now appears deliberate. Five minutes later I called again, as she hadn’t walked out. This time she answered and said she’d be out shortly, and apologized for being weird. Ten minutes later, still no B. I called again, and again she said she’d be out, again apologizing for how weird everything was. I don’t recall the exact conversation. I thought it odd, but still I hadn’t clued in. Ten minutes after that she finally came out. I was actually a bit annoyed at having waited for 25 minutes, though I held my tongue because I’d arrived late and girls sometimes just take a while.

I drove across the street to pick up J at the park and ride, after which the three of us headed toward the freeway and downtown. I had a Pigeon John C.D. playing, and told them to pick something else if they’d like something else. B immediately and curtly stated Can we just not have music? so I quickly hit the power button. Her manner seemed really odd, but getting my knickers in a twist seemed overkill. Heading downtown on the freeway, B started talking about how she had a bad feeling about the night. Then my grandfather called my cell phone. As he’s been in ill health lately, I reached for the phone to take the call. B screeched Don’t answer that! I said that I had to, it was my grandparents. Everything was fine with them and I got off the phone in under 30 seconds. Then B reported that she’d forgot something at home (never specified) and could we go back and get it.

So I got off I-5, crossed the overpass, and drove back the way we came. When we got to B’s parking lot, things got really strange. She started talking about how she couldn’t go back in. She was afraid to go back in. Both J and I offered to walk up with her to make sure there wasn’t someone lurking in the apartment, or a fire had been started or anything. But she just couldn’t bring herself to go back in. By this point I knew something was really wrong, but I didn’t know what. I have friends who really believe in spirits and premonitions and supernatural crap. I don’t. I think it’s 99% hooey, but I’m also not about to get in someone’s face about it either. An illogical premonition that was so bad we couldn’t do anything was just the start.

B got back in the car, but stated she didn’t think we should go dancing now. I’m sorry, but I just can’t. Can we go get some food or something? I had no desire to eat, but I figured if it would calm her down that would not be a bad thing. So I started the car out of the parking lot.

And that’s when I recall things really went strange. Perhaps B had said something earlier, but I don’t recall it. She started talking about numbers. I was a 4 or a 7, and B was a 7 or a 13 and she was just sure that the combination of the three of us was just bad. I know nothing of numerology though. J and I started humoring B to calm her down. B took a phone call from someone, and then hung up.

We started driving around. No particular direction and B quickly lost all memory of restaurant plans. For a while one direction would be fine, but then B would be sure we had to go a different direction. Then something spooked her and we’d turn around. Still only about 30 minutes from when we first left her apartment parking lot, I was thinking anxiety attack. My plan was calm B down, get her home and asleep. But then she started talking about seeing patterns and signs and portents and didn’t want to look at any signs as we were driving. She started asking if we were seeing them. And wondering why only she could see them when we told her we did not. I started thinking schizophrenia. My plan became to get her calm enough to get her to a hospital.

We drove through numerous north Seattle neighborhoods, some more than once: Greenwood, Green Lake, Maple Leaf, Roosevelt, U-District, Ravenna, Wedgewood, Lake City, and Northgate. B almost threw herself on the car floor when she asked me to turn around and then realized we were on a bad street (coincidentally the street where my great-aunt lives). I had been hoping to get closer to the hospital district, but B wouldn’t cross the University Bridge when we were in that area. Once she felt we needed to stop immediately, so I pulled over. Then someone came walking by and B curled up shrieking that we couldn’t talk to him and that she couldn’t see him. So I quickly pulled out. There were instances too numerous to mention when she behaved like this. All the while she was trying to determine our numbers, declaring she had to make a choice, but didn’t know what the choice was, and later that it was a choice between light and dark.

At one point we came within a dozen blocks of her apartment, and I asked if B wanted to go home. She thought so, but a block later changed her mind. Then and there I decided to head to Pill Hill no matter her reaction. I told her I thought we needed to get her to a hospital, because they would know better than we would what was going on. She thought that was a good idea (though she was absolutely sure she didn’t want the U.W. hospital), but as we crossed the Ship Canal she changed her mind. She didn’t argue when I said I still thought it was a good idea. She did say she’d made the wrong choice though.

As we got to Pill Hill, I asked B if she’d prefer Swedish, Harborview, or Virginia Mason. She was absolutely sure not Virginia Mason, but when we pulled up to Swedish she wouldn’t get out of the car. Then she decided Virginia Mason would be better so I drove over there. J and I walked B inside.

The intake person wanted to know what she needed to see a doctor for. I wanted to say we had a girl who was going psychotic on us, but I figured that might not be the best way to put it with B listening. So we said she was freaking out and seemingly having an anxiety attack. After the intake person, we saw a triage nurse. She quickly homed in on psychotic issues. Most of the folks there knew what they were doing, though I think the intake person had been slapped with a stupid stick in the past. Triage nurse called it paranoid ideations which didn’t seem to set off B. Then an orderly took us to an emergency room.

B was much calmer by now, but still not exactl cooperative. She didn’t want to let them draw blood. She wouldn’t sign the intake form. In the middle of questioning by the doctor, she would dial someone on the phone and start talking to them. I was just thinking of you. She talked to one friend who came down to the hospital. Turned out to be just in time, as B was at that moment walking out of the hospital against recommendation. Her friend talked her into going back in. At that point, J and I sat in the lobby as her friend knew hew much better and could pass on thing like relevant family medical history, including mental illness. I talked to another friend of B’s who came down as well. When she got there, we left after saying good bye to B. I didn’t want to gang up on her and I was exhausted and frazzled.

I have now been witness to a psychotic breakdown, whether actual schizophrenia or a severe anxiety attack or a brain tumor. I don’t know the cause. It’s not something they taught me how to handle in high school, so I felt particularly out of my depth for the longest time. If it ever happens again, I’m pretty sure I’m going to head straight for a hospital rather than humor the person and try to calm them down. Because there just seemed no way to calm B down.