Days at the Brentcliffe (Belated conclusion)

Alright, so this IS admittedly a bit late. I’ve been so busy since the Friday I transitioned, what with having to pick up Corky, say a sadly, quick hello and good-bye to Pamela and Tilly, rush back upstairs to my apartment to pack up my suitcase so that I can pile into the Honda with myu parents and drive all the way to Sainte Lazare, QC that day.
Transition was a nice, albeit sad little presentation. Normally the group transitioning (ie. moving on to their next stage of change/development/whatever) has a much larger audience. It’s meant to inspire those clients just coming in, as well as ourselves. There’s always at least one member who cries.
We were the last group for 2007. There will be none until after the New Year when the programs all resume. No matter what I might have said in previous entries, I was pleased with the individuals who made up our specific group. They were all special and unique in their own ways, and altogether they made my time spent at the Brentcliffe a welcome one. I wish them all the best, even knowing I will see them once I get back in After-care.

Days at the Brentcliffe (pt.8)

Ugh Sick
Not certain what exactly has transpired, but half the building smells like an outhouse. I do not recall this being included on the brochure when they were describing the CAMH experience.
I’m still getting over an ealier tirade. I have no problems providing urine screens, but when a) I have to have the door open and b) the person who has the door open is carrying on a conversation with another staff member, that’s where I draw the line.
I flipped. Big Time!!
I checked in under my own accord, not mandated by the courts. I’m not here as a patient in the med ward, so why sit there and tell us that Brentcliffe is technically a hospital (which in my books the needs and rights of the patients are paramount) and then proceed to treat me like I’m in an institution?
Can’t have it both ways

Days at the Brentcliffe (pt.7)

I looked out my window this morning, and could barely see the world beyond the first 10 feet. Snow blustering everywhere. It’s actually rather pretty here, out on the edge of Nowhere (not true. We’re actually situated on a cliff overlooking Sunnybrook Park). You forget sometimes just how close, and yet how far away the City seems.
Five more days, starting tomorrow, until the bubble is pierced.
I’ve been through this before, and frankly, I’m aware, that despite not always making use of it, how good a social support system I have in place. Some of my group less so. This moment, right now, is the extent of their social life, and it frightens them (even if they won’t admit it) to be leaving it all shortly.
It’s a topic that will surely be cropping up repeatedly this week, both within and outside of group.

Days at the Brentcliffe (pt.6)

It’s so quiet in here. Once again, the building has emptied out for the weekend. There’s just 6 of us still in the Residence, and the rest are all medical detox patients, who’s movements remind me the zombies one sees in popular (and not so popular) films Filmstrip.
I noticed I was getting along better with our Primary Therapist Friday, now that this latest hurdle (see pt.5) has been put behind us. Perhaps we’ve both come to a reckoning with each other.
I’ve been getting out since yesterday finally. Nowhere really special. It’s just nice to feel the pavement under my feet. I’ve taken it unto myself to do the occasional trips down to the store to pick up miscellaneous items for the inpatients, who aren’t able to leave the grounds.

Days at the Brentcliffe (pt. 5?)

Well, thanks to my getting confrontational, in part due to my therapist not being very forthcoming when  I asked for clarification regarding the continuous urine sample tests that have been asked for me, I have now got my answers. I actually had to go over her head and speak to the CEO. I still don’t feel that this should have been necessary, in all honesty, and despite the reasons provided for keeping me in the dark I still do not believe it was the wisest choice.
Apparently, someone switched urine samples with me on Sunday, and when the results came back I was testing positive for opiates, which is interesting since I have been unable to leave the grounds since starting here a week ago now. It was only when results were compated from others previously submitted by me showed none of the medications, like the methylaphetamines I take daily were present, did they think that there might be a problem somewhere else.
Well the latest results are back and I’m in the clear. An investigation now is being conducted to see where/how this might have happened.

Days ar the Brentcliffe (pt.4)

The LGBT Rainbow Group left today after their transition. I wish them the best of luck.
What else…. Well, after almost quitting thanks to repeated cutting remarks about her nodding off almost every day in class, our Group Therapist has convinced F. to stay on, but excusing her from the morning sessions, which supposed aren’t as important (you could fool me though, the way the individual counsellors carry on if you’re late). F.’s going through a rough time with her meds being the lead cause. She’s currently riding out a pharmaceutical roller coaster, which should eventually subside as her body adjusts. F will come back in January 2008 and take those classes she missed out on, so that she will have a fair chance coping with her problems.
Only one of the group, A. seems to have a problem with this amicable resolution with what seemed to be growing irritation, but that’s his issue. Get over it A.

Days at the Brentcliffe (pt.3)

Well, C. has yet to be removed, although the group gave him a private dressing down before the Therapist walked in to begin this afternoon’s session. He’ll do his best now to keep the cell phone out of sight, which is in all truthfullness, the best any of us can see coming out of it.
Incidentally, we’ve started in group to tell our drug stories, and although I was the first to present, methinks I’m going to ask that I be able to do it again. I’m feeling that I sort of glossed over my problems and didn’t focus on some (in my opinion) key points, since I had no basis on how my story should be played out. I’ll ask the Therapist and see what can be done to rectify this.
My back’s killing me. You would think with my mattress being made out of that new space age memory foam you see advertised all the time, that this would not be the case, BUT THEY LIED!!! Strike that item off my Christmas list.
Tomorrow, the Rainbow Group will be Transitioning. Their three weeks are up. It’s going to be whole lot emptier here. without their laughter and comraderie filling the place.