Police & EMT

A few years ago, I was at home looking through photos with my mother and sister one late afternoon. We got into a disagreement over whose they were: Were the ones of me mine or the ones of my mother's children hers? I got so upset that I got up and left the room and left the house.

I had tried to call my therapist because I really felt bad, but she didn't answer or call back. I got in the car. Driving, I got even more upset. I called my sister. What I said, I don't know; I just needed a friendly voice; she asked me where I was. "Walgreens", I said, and I was "going to kill myself", as I was driving past, and I pulled in. There I sat in the car, on the phone, oblivious to everything around me. My psychiatrist had called me back. We were talking about how I was feeling and thinking. I don't remember what the consensus was, only that my sister kept calling while I was talking with my doctor. I didn't answer, as I thought this was a more important conversation. Very soon after, I got out of the car, and was surrounded by two police cars and two police officers! They had parked me in. They asked me to get out of my car and took a cursory look with flashlights around my car. There I stood outside in the parking lot with two police officers, each standing sideways to me, guns in their belts and all. They asked me questions, most of which I've forgotten, but they did want to see my big, yellow purse. They asked to see inside it and proceeded to rifle through it, laughing the whole time. One asked if it were part of my camping equipment and I answered back, "Yes, that's my tent," referring to the size of my purse. No handcuffs for the smart remark, but I was locked in the back of the cruiser for a while; through the thick-glassed window, I watched them rifle through my purse some more. I had an extension cord in there - I think it was to charge my phone- which they found particularly odd.

It turns out that if you say you're going to kill yourself to your sister and then don't answer the phone, people get nervous.

Soon, an ambulance showed up. The EMT asked me if I had a mental illness diagnosis. I said that I have bipolar. I was allowed to have my purse back. I was looked over in the ambulance. My sister turned up not long after the ambulance did. She wanted to call the whole thing off- as if she'd never called 911. It was too late, the EMT said. So, off to the hospital we went. My sister said she'd pick me up later. The psych ER just talked with me and I don't remember what was said, but they didn't think that I needed to be admitted. So I was released and called my sister to come pick me up. She seemed to think it was a serious situation and was very loving toward me. We had a lovely conversation on the way home.