/mental/ - Mental Health, Illnesses and Disorders

I went to the hospital for a drug overdose, thought I was going to die, they treated me like I was insane, the hospital staff kept giving me Ambian they drove me to the city in an ambalamps and I got a room, a blanket and breakfast and more Ambian.

I was an involuntary patient under suicide watch, I told them I just wanted to do drugs and they wouldnt let me leave. When they finally realized I was normal and having withdrawls they said I could leave.

I had nowhere to go so I ate as much food as possible, lied about having someone waiting for me at the bus stop, walked out, bought some McDonalds and hitchhiked home (I lived in a small town outside the city)

Mental hospitals sucks, the food sucks. I live in Canada and they had an Xbox room, but no games and no internet. shit sucks when you don't want to be there.

>>6560
>an Xbox room, but no games
What the fuck is the point of that?

A couple weeks after my 14th birthday I tried to commit suicide by stabbing myself in the stomach multiple times, but my mom came home and tackled me before I could even start. She took me to the ER and I was (I forgot the word) sent into the hospital. They took my blood and tested for drugs and alcohol. I was put under suicide watch for 3 days while they tried to find a bed for me in a mental institution. The hospital stay was nice, they let me read and walk around but I was not allowed to talk to any other patients nor see them.


I then got transported thru amburlanse to a facility like 50 miles away and wasn't allowed to talk for the ~1hour20min drive.


I ended up staying in a small, bare room with a window high up on the wall. There were about 11 other kids there and we were watched at all times, including shower time. There was no game room or anything, just a common room with puzzles and drawing supplies. We were only allowed in our room or in the common room. Room doors had to be open at all times, unless changing, then you could have it closed for no longer than 5 minutes.


We were each assigned a therapist, a psychiatrist, and a psychologist. I only met my psychologist once. He diagnosed me with depression and anxiety. I met my therapist every other day. She wasn't very helpful and I didn't talk to her much. I saw my psychiatrist once a day and she didn't do her job very well. She gave me medications that made my symptoms worse and didn't listen to me when I begged her to change my diagnosis to Bipolar 1.


I just pretended that everything was going fine, and even then I stayed there about two weeks longer than the normal stay. About three weeks after being on SSRIs my mind flipped out on me and I couldn't handle it anymore, so I took myself off them.


This was all about two years ago, I can answer more questions if you want.

>>6577

I hated the strip search. Seconding not going there unless necessary, they did not help at all. If you really really need help, I would suggest booking a psych appointment yourself so that they can't legally "keep" you, only suggest you go to a facility.

>>6583
> I hated the strip search.
The thing that really confused was that I understood them taking away things that could hurt people, and the liability and all… but the result was nothing to "cope" if that is the right word. Like when I'm not doing well I'll listen to music, or tinker on my laptop, or draw. If someone isn't suicidal, maybe at least let them have headphones where it is visible or something. I mean, it made me worse having nothing but a book (my eyes would glaze over and I could barely read). But, maybe it is just too hard to deal with all that…

> Seconding not going there unless necessary, they did not help at all.
I was hoping that it would provide me with a smart doctor that would figure out how to fix my medications, but, unfortunately that wasn't really the case.

I actually won't go to a proper psychiatrist anymore. I've had terrible experiences. Only doctor I see is a pulmonary care doctor (ICU/sleep medicine) who I met at another hospital visit (too many benzos). He's helped me taper off lots of medications correctly and just uses his head, and despite having no psychiatric experience has done way more for me than any psychiatrist. He has a better understanding of how they affect the body and what arises from each, I believe.

A small one with only 7 other people. I was put there because my doctors still couldn't figure out what was wrong…that and I have a collection of bladed weapons in an unstable household.

Anyways, it was about an hour away from my house and I stayed there for about two-three weeks, being sent there three days prior to my 16th birthday(joy.) I had no option to resist, either I went willingly or the police could take me.

The room I was given was massive yet bare. There was a large window that was translucent and you could only barely make out what was outside. I was able to keep my clothes however I had to surrender any strings on them(including shoe laces) for safety reasons, ruining my pajama pants. There was a hard "bed" which was actually just a geo-mat on a concrete bed frame. Luckily I was able to get a second geo-mat to make it more tolerable. We also had a sink with a built-in water fountain. We had really crappy towels, more puffy dish rags because of how small they were. I had to take two of them with me at a time in order to be able to completely dry off.

Absolutely no music was allowed and TV was only used during certain sessions. I was, however, able to keep a couple pencils and my sketchpad thankfully as it was(and is) one of my primary ways of not turning into a complete wreck. It was often looked through though by certain doctors. They never said anything aside from a few "hmm"s when they looked, the other people there seemed to love my drawings, though. I guess it was far better scenery than bright white lights and concrete walls.

Food there was surprisingly tasty. At one point, we had barbecue turkey legs.

The therapy practiced there was usually done in groups. Stupid games and whatnot, kind of pissed me off and I had to excuse myself one time because at how mad I was starting to get at one of them. I do remember crying for three days straight because I was in such a foreign place and had nobody there I knew/trusted. I have always feared prison and this place was about as close to one I have seen.

Anyways, they did come in my room for personal therapy and such. I remember taking the Rorschach test(doctor slides me a blotchy image on a tile and asks what do I see and whatnot) as well as a few tests similar to those online mental quizzes. Also remember having to take off my socks. I know this sounds really weird but I absolutely do NOT take off my socks unless I am taking a shower. I don't know what it is, but I simply hate the way the human body looks, especially the feet which is one of the reasons why I always where long sleeves/short sleeve and hoodie and pants. Never shorts, never sandals. You get the deal.

I also had just had a cyst removed from my rear a few weeks prior which require me to poke a saline solution soaked rag in the wound every day. Had to have an old lady come in the room and do it…ugh.

Parental visits were allowed every tuesday. I was supposed to only stay one week but I ended up staying a good bit longer because they needed time. This obviously wasn't received well by me.

Most of the time I spent in my room drawing or out in the sort of lobby drawing. I was halfway through my 100 page sketchpad by the time I got out. I hardly ever interacted with the others. Most of the other kids there were for depression or just really bad behavior(like this one 8 year old little shit.) We each were given a set of goals to accomplish that unlocked more privileges. I just pretty much disregarded the whole thing as it was a conglomerate of "feel good be nice to other people" things. I just wanted to get results and get out of there. I didn't care for their silly therapy games, I wanted to cut to the chase.

It wasn't quite an asylum or psych ward as it was designed for kids and adolescents, but it wasn't fun nonetheless. I do think it was necessary, though, as otherwise I would be in the dark about what my real problems were.

>>6586
The boredom was the worst, I think. I stole a cookie from the cafeteria and traded it for a deck of cards and just played solitaire when I could.


I was //really// disappointed with the doctors. I was obviously showing symptoms of bipolar, yet they ignored me and just focused on making me admit I had what they diagnosed me with.

That's good you have help! Mental illness sucks to go through alone, y'know? As long as you're safe, you should stick with him.

>>6588
I sort of got the feeling that the "good" ones go into private practice, and the shit-tier ones end up in psychiatric hospitals.

Yeah, it does suck to go through alone. Especially since I end up isolating myself when I'm at my worst, and therefore the least likely to get help (I have a lot of paranoid traits with my personality disorder)

You ever find a good doctor once you got out?

>>6591
I would say that for SURE. There is no way that the people who worked there would ever make money going private.


I, too, isolate myself when it gets rough. Paranoia is one of the worst things I've experienced, how do you deal with it?


Once I was out, I found one that sucked; basically telling me that I was faking all my issues and making everything worse for the people who "actually had real problems in their lives" so I swore off help until a three months ago. Now I'm seeing a great set of people who are extremely supportive and listen to me when I tell them something is going on. I truly feel blessed.

>>6592
> I, too, isolate myself when it gets rough. Paranoia is one of the worst things I've experienced, how do you deal with it?
It's a bit of a battle. Finding people I have enough trust in to get help is hard. Hence, seeing a pulmonary care doctor I met in the ICU rather than a psychiatrist. He saved me in the hospital after a psychiatrist drugged me up too much, so, earned my trust. I think the main reason he treats me is because he knows if he didn't, I wouldn't go to another doctor and therefore would be worse off (although that has never been discussed, he has seen my medical records - which spell it out pretty clear).

It's on the spectrum of a personality disorder, and there isn't much research for it because it isn't as common as Borderline or something. Wikipedia has a pretty good article on it, and you'll see how bare treatment is due to the nature of it: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paranoid_personality_disorder

I have found staying clear of drugs is important for any personality disorder, at least as much as possible depending on other mental illness you might have. I think doctors lack of experience with schizophrenic paranoid types really keeps them at a loss for what to do so they end up writing the wrong drugs. For example paranoid types might have ADD symptoms, but writing a stimulant makes paranoia much worse.

One thing I have found helps is really being careful not to get into "emotional mind" (goes back to staying off of drugs), and doing your thinking with the neocortex (logic center) as much as possible. Deal with facts, not emotions, when around people. Choose work that doesn't require you to trust others so much, accept who you are… Good jobs of paranoid people are things like detective work, security work, etc. I work in Internet security.

Can't give much advice on psychologists, can't open up to them. I've been through a few, eventually I either get mad at them or just quit.

>>6597
Thank you for the advice on the paranoia, as well as showing me more about the disorder. Drugs are something I can no longer due, thanks for my inability to stay grounded which results in me completely losing myself and/or blacking out. I'll try and stay logical in my moments of insanity.


I hope everything works out for you, really. You seem like you've got most of it covered but that could just be me misinterpreting hah.

>>6560
>they had an Xbox room, but no games
Are you sure it wasn't a PS3 room?

Reading about these prison "hospitals" is fucking terrifying. No wonder people are wary of seeking help if this is the kind of "help" they can expect. I've had a psychologist straight up tell me "Do you have thoughts of harming yourself or others? If you say 'yes', I'll have to place you under involuntary hold for 72 hours."

Well shit, let me think about it.

I'm schizotypal, possibly developing schizophrenia (I'm 20 and noticing worsening effects), and this thread terrifies me. I'm so afraid of anyone finding out about my problems on the off chance I end up in one of these fucking places.

>>6615
Is it original Xbox or 360?

The boredom is the worst aspect of being in any of these places. That, and the fact that the doctors and therapy are harmful, instead of just useless. Judging from personal experience, the best thing to do when you're in crisis is to lock yourself in your room, and do anything to distract yourself until the mental crisis state passes. Avoid medications like benzos or amphetamines, which only make problems worse. Never relinquish control to someone else, or you'll suffer. You have to learn to ride out the suicidal or psychotic episodes. 72 hours in your own apartment, or even the woods is way better than any institution. Institutions are a scam to make money for people in administrative and bureaucratic positions, they don't actually help people. The same way that schools don't actually teach anything. they just generate income and cause harm.

>>6652
Isolation rarely does any good for troubled mind.
Many people, including me, have been in a position where they have isolated them selves, and everything in their heads escalates to a point where only two things they can do is either kill them selves or call an ambulance.

It's not right to say that all mental hospitals are bad. I know from experience that they are not.
If you are psychotic and suicidal, not able to take care of your self, then outside intervention is necessary to keep you alive. But if you are in that state there probably isn't a place on earth that would make you feel good.

Sure there are better and worse hospitals and staff, but many people require medical help to survive.

And it's still better than what they did to crazy people 100 years a go, or even 50.

>>6654
>>6654
>Isolation rarely does any good for troubled mind.

theres a good song about that

I ended up in a ward because I had sleeping problems, and depression because of those sleeping problems. Sleeping problems were caused by ptsd. It was more or less trying to find right drugs for me, in a quickened phase.

It was fucking boring. I was lucky in a way that there was some fa/tg/uys there. We kept talking about shit and laughing wholeheartedly into the late night. Some no-fun-allowed nurse would usually come and put an end to it when we had too much fun.

After that I was put into a day unit, where I did fucking nothing. During the first few days I went into those group therapy things and was either annoyed or bored out of my mind. After that, I did report to the clinic as ordered, but did my best to keep quiet and stay out of sight. I did manage to find this one quiet place that had one semi-comfy chair in it. I just stayed there, read a book, read news through the phone, and took some naps. Occasionally some nurse would come and start bothering me. This continued for a few weeks and then I was let out of that unit as well.

I went to one when I was 12 for a suicide attempt.

It was fucking terrible, holy shit. When I got there I had to strip off all my clothes, the guy let me keep my underwear on though, and he checked for scars, bumps, cuts, all that. I stayed in a room with another kid about my age who did nothing but sit in his bed and read the bible. We had a window that had a nice view of the street below, but it was barred and made it depressing to look through. I don't remember talking to the staff at all, they were pretty in the background constantly watching us. The food was pretty ok though, we got a menu every morning where we would get to choose what we want for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

When I got there I was able to wear my regular clothes, but one lunch I was bored so I started breaking off the little prongs on the fork and was then stripped of my clothes and given a pair of scrubs and put on suicide watch. The common room was pretty ok. We got TV privileges, but it was usually under control of these group of girls or this 18 year old. We also got to listen to the radio. I don't remember a lot of group therapy sessions. Thinking about it now, a lot of it seemed to just preoccupy us, we weren't ever given goals or anything like that to do. We did have to do schoolwork though, and it was absolute bullshit. They have you start from kindergarten so I spent a week doing simple addition for an hour everyday. The psychiatrist I had was fucking terrible. Every minute I spent in a room with him was a complete waste of time. For several sessions he wanted to focus on my relationship with my father, which is great, because he lived in another state. He also immediately diagnosed me with anxiety just from our first conversation. The entire experience was absolute bullshit.

The second time I was submitted was for another suicide attempt about a couple months later. I stayed in the hospital for about a week. I remember having to drink this disgusting black sludge out of this cup through a straw. The worst thing I have ever had, I have no idea what it was because I was so drugged up. I also didn't get to shower at all. I smelled terrible. I remember going to an office, I think it was the first floor of the facility, I'm not sure. After waiting for my mom to get done talking to him he led us upstairs where I would be staying. And I remember the feeling of my heart sinking. I did not want to go through all of this again. I started crying and begging my mom to not leave me here, it was embarrassing as hell. After she left I was sent to my room with who I shared a roomate with. It was just two beds and two sets of cubbies to put our clothes in. Since we were sharing a room we got our own private bathroom which could only be accessed through calling a staff person with a key. When taking a shower the other roommate could not be in the room. It was about 2-3 days after I was there when I was finally allowed to shower and put some new clothes on. Everyday was pretty much the same. You got up, got your breakfast which was a muffin, fruit, cereal, tea, coffee, whatever. Got the nurse to check your pulse. Got your meds. And then you would either go to a therapy session, to the gym, or stay in the common room and do a bunch of boring paper work. Lunch. More boring stuff. Bed. I was constantly being put on different meds, I stopped caring what I was taking about a week in. The meetings with my psychiatrist were terrible. She kept telling me to work on my coping skills. She probably said that a thousand fucking times. We also had family meetings where my mom and sister came in, which was a trainwreck. You get to call one family member a day for about 20 minutes towards the end of the day. This was usually so you could ask your parents to drop off clothes, snacks, personal hygiene stuff. Everything but your clothes were kept inside of this closet that you had to get the staff to open with a key. You had to sign everything out, if you took out your brush to brush your hair at 11:00 then you had to write it down on this clipboard. There's also absolutely no physical contact at all, not brushing up against each other, no high fives, nothing.


If anyone's thinking about going to one of these, I would use it as a last resort. Where you know that you are so unstable you are most definitely going to hurt yourself or others. If you're just looking for help, I wouldn't bother. It's a waste of time and I feel bad for all the kids who have to go through these things every month.

>>6666
also spooky numbers B)

Well, once when I was around 13 which I don't remember very well and another time just about a month ago, in the US, where I don't live.

There's not much to tell because I went into full fuck you mode and refused to participate in their bullshit. The way they treated the other people there was weird and just felt kind of very fucking wrong. They ignored a guy going through heroin withdrawals and talked to us like a bunch of fucking five year olds. There was a rumour that all the blueshirts/med techs/whatever were highschool dropouts and I'd believe it.

I spent my time reading through the papers they gave me trying to find a loophole, refusing to eat and reminding them that I wasn't a citizen.
I was put there because apparently trying to walk home apparently fucking apparently means I'm a danger to myself or others or some shit.
(Though, the cops straight up told me it was because some rich people said I looked sketchy and they didn't want to deal with a bunch of calls about a spooky skeleton walking around in the middle of the night)

They had a fucking "quiet time" or "quiet hour" or something like that, which was just stupid. Turning off the TV and turning down the lights for an hour in the middle of the day does nothing but make everyone decide they hate you.

>>6654
>bla bla bla it's not all like that, they are some good things sometimes, therefore you are wrong and here is some generalities to prove it

No. He is right. All mental hospitals sucks, all psychiatrists sucks, it is all just a way to control people if not outright scam them.

Better lock yourself in or go trekking than go to Doctor Goldberg so that he gives you Magic Pills® that will harm you more than whatever problem you have so he can eventually say : "See ? You need us after all. That will be 150$".

This is a really dumb story, but…

When I was 13, my mother told me my grandmother needed help with some chores, so I went over and helped. Her real motive was to get me out of the house so she could bring a made over to "clean" my room, but really she wanted to go through everything, see if I was hiding everything because something must be wrong with me, afterall.

I came back to find all my furniture re-arranged. Half my things were missing. I felt violated. She tried to play this off like it was a good thing. I was enraged. I told her it wasn't my home anymore, went and sat on the porch, but had no where to go. Contemplated what I could do, if anything. Where I could go. After about an hour I decided all I could do was save face, and went back in and announced it was no longer my bedroom, and from then on would sleep on the couch.

Another week passed, again she needed me to go help my grandmother out she claimed. I knew it was a lie, but I went anyway. We got in her friend's van, and again it was clear we were going somewhere out of the city. She said she wanted to "look at houses" now she said. Another lie, but I guess I'd just sort of resigned myself to let this play out. Sure enough, it was an asylum. She wanted me to undergo observation. They brought out an orderly to take me in, as if I'd be violent.

I went in willingly, though unhappily. I would give them nothing in my time there. Nothing they could use to justify keeping me there. I'd been to plenty of therapists over the years, all of whom quite liked me. I had a character I put on. One leg crossed over the other, take responsibility for all my actions and circumstances, humor, big words, they liked all that.

This was nothing new for me, really. From a few days after my 13th birthday my mother would routinely call the cops and have me taken to juvenile hall. Didn't clean my room? She called the cops. Cursed at her? Called the cops. Told her I was busy? Called the cops. Years later the cops would actually start telling her if she kept wasting their time she'd be going to jail, but that's another story.

Point is, by comparison this place didn't feel as frightening. Just, more embarrassing. The other kids were pretty nice though, that night I found out why.

Laying in bed, the doctor came in with an orderly, and a needle. I knew the orderly's presence meant I'd be held down if needed. "Shhh, we're just going to draw some blood, and you can go back to sleep." so she said, but the lights were off and she wasn't searching for a vein, she injected it up near my shoulder. She wasn't drawing blood, I was being injected with something. "Can they do that? Legally is it okay for them to lie to a patient like this?"

(continued…)

>>6755
(continued…)

It must have been some kind of sedative, the next morning I floated out of the room. I was immediately best friends with eeeeeeeverybody. Everybody liked me. I liked everyone. They got a kick out of how comparatively innocent I was. They were there for suicide attempts, drug overdoses, and often much more gruesome shit. Me? "Well… My mom cleaned my room when I wasn't there to trick me, and I was upset about it." It's not like I'd even cursed at my mother when it happened. Didn't threaten her or raise my voice or anything, just told her I was hurt and felt violated and it wasn't my home anymore. Incidentally, she found nothing in her search. I didn't do drugs or drink or have any weapons. All she found was old pizza boxes, and a couple extremely embarrassing items from under my bed. I had this little pack full of condoms and novelty items from a condom machine in the bathroom at a gas station a couple blocks away. And no, at the time, I wasn't using them. The other thing was a binder full of drawings I'd made. Drawings… of naked women. Nothing terribly talented mind you, I just read a lot of comic books, and it occurred to me one day "Hey… If I just traced her body… And… drew on some nipples… I could see what this character looked like naked!" I'd spent the previous summer drawing them, and I bought lots of comics, so this was hundreds of drawings. Embarrassing, but nothing to suggest anything wrong with me, I don't think.

That was the thing I liked most and remember most fondly about that place, by the way. The girls. I think mostly they were just teasing me, because I mean, I was 13 but looked 15 or 16, but a couple of them were more… serious about it.

First was a girl who didn't speak a word of english. She was cute, but I was more attracted to someone I'll get too later. We had only a few interactions in my short time there. One morning she just grabbed me as I came out of my room. Lead me to a water fountain and kept motioning at it with her arms. Took me a couple seconds, but I went "Oh!" and held down the button for her. She put her hand over mine for a second, then pushed it away to indicate she could hold the button down, so I left. Later she repeated this process of grabbing me mid-walk, sat me down on a couch, held my hands, and leaned in, biting her lip, wanting to kiss. Had the orderlies not intervened, I probably would have been hers, but we were pulled apart when this was seen, and I wandered off a little bewildered. No idea why she was there, but I remember her frequently trying to escape.

The next girl, Patty… Now this chick was something special, but several kinds of fucked up, and in hindsight, there's another path I could have taken here that if nothing else would have left me with a really fond memory.

Patty was gorgeous. She was shorter than me, but a year older. She had a thick hispanic accent, but pale skin, freckles, red hair and bright green eyes. Full, thick lips and her breasts were enormous. I don't just mean for her age either, they were magnificent.

However, she was also a month pregnant. See, Patty hung out primarily with two people, her boyfriend, and her best friend who was this weird wiccan chick. Patty had an attitude of "I'll try anything once" and evidently was in sort of a three-way relationship. She said she wasn't addicted to any drugs, but would try any. Her friend and boyfriend gave her what she thought was a joint, but she referred to as a "kamikaze". According to her, it did have pot in it, as well as cocaine, a roach pill, meth, and some other shit. So, she OD'd and woke up in the hospital to hear the nurse telling her mother "Oh by the way, your daughter is pregnant."

(continued…)

>>6756
(concluded…)

God knows why, but I was like a toy to this girl. I'd sit with my head on her lap, and she'd massage my head, and it was fucking heaven. She'd ask about my dick a lot, if she could see it and such, and I'd just awkwardly move somewhere else when she did. The body was willing, I was way attracted to her, but my brain was telling me it was kind of fucked up to want to get with a pregnant chick, who wasn't single.

A day passed, two new kids were admitted, a brother and sister. The brother was like 5, the sister 13. Their story was pretty fucked. Their mother was a prostitute turning tricks in her apartment, her kids frequently witnessing it as she did it out in the open. That's why they were there. The kid took to me pretty quickly, but he had anger issues. The girl liked me too, and she was roommates with Patty, who educated her about things.

Now, here's the thing, if they wanted, the kids could fuck one another at night. All the rooms locked from the outside, but you could still open them from the inside. Now, at the time there was only one couple actually taking advantage of this set up, as you could just open your door, leave a door stop, then go knock on someone else's door. So, Patty and this girl kept telling me over and over throughout the day "Tonight, we're going to come to your room and we're going to have a threesome. We're both gonna suck your dick. You're gonna find out what 69 is." and so on. I thought they were shitting me. That night, the little brother kept knocking on my door before bed asking if I'd play with him tomorrow, and I told him yes, but I was very tired and had to go to sleep.

When, at around 3am, the girls came knocking, in my half-asleep state I assumed it was the little brother and ignored it. The following day was my last, and they said they'd wanted to say goodbye to me, but I didn't answer the door.

Anyway, there were plenty of other kids with interesting stories and issues of their own, and I was on good terms with all of 'em, but that of course is the part that sticks out most. What could have been.

I was let out that day, doctor said there was nothing wrong with me, I just had depression. I took a particular pride in the reaction everyone, and I mean everyone had to my mother. The other kids despised her, the staff argued and fought with her every time she showed up, the doctor actually recommended she needed counseling. And me? I remember the conversation on the way out. "DON'T YOU GIVE ME ANY LIP OR I'LL PUT YOU RIGHT BACK IN THERE!" "By all means, I liked it in there. Let's turn around, put me right back in there. Seemed to me they'd be more likely to give you a room this time, though."

I was sent in an hospital's mental ward for a week because I was in full manic mode. I realised that I wasn't as nuts as I thought I was, one guy even ordered pizza at some point (his parents brought it) and he only gave a piece to me because I was cool. There was this one chick that I wanted to shag so fucking bad, I jerked till it bled in the communal bathroom, I wasn't alone most of the time but I didn't care.

all in all 6/10

>>6756
>First was a girl who didn't speak a word of english. She was cute, but I was more attracted to someone I'll get too later. We had only a few interactions in my short time there. One morning she just grabbed me as I came out of my room. Lead me to a water fountain and kept motioning at it with her arms. Took me a couple seconds, but I went "Oh!" and held down the button for her. She put her hand over mine for a second, then pushed it away to indicate she could hold the button down, so I left. Later she repeated this process of grabbing me mid-walk, sat me down on a couch, held my hands, and leaned in, biting her lip, wanting to kiss. Had the orderlies not intervened, I probably would have been hers, but we were pulled apart when this was seen, and I wandered off a little bewildered. No idea why she was there, but I remember her frequently trying to escape.

That's so mysterious, I can't help but wonder who was she and why was she there?