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" Imagine a world where no one hears what you hear, sees what you see, or believes anything you know to be true. I once lived in such a place. I was a married, 31-year-old mother of two with no history of psychotic episodes. In 2006, after the birth of my daughter, I suffered from a severe infection that ultimately brought me to the brink of death. My medical circumstances spiraled out of control and, after hemorrhaging during a surgery, I spent more than two months in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU). Due to intubation and a subsequent tracheotomy, I was stripped of the ability to speak, eat, or drink. Extreme deconditioning rendered me incapable of moving, leaving me temporarily paralyzed from the neck down.\u00A0 I was near death\u00A0while confined to an ICU bed. My world did not expand beyond the white curtain. Mine was a gradual descent into delirium. At first, when my friends and family came to visit me, I had visual hallucinations that we were at the movies, or back in college hanging out. While childhood friends sat at my bedside chatting with me about their present life, I believed we were back in the eighth grade making up dance routines to Madonna&amp;#039;s latest hit. I didn&amp;#039;t recognize these were memories from my past. For me, these hallucinations were happening in real time. Just as I now can feel my fingers tapping against the keyboard, I could feel my body physically moving and hear Madonna belting out Papa Don&amp;#039;t Preach. At first, these warped visualizations were pleasant. I often thought I was at home taking care of my three-year-old son, or teaching in my fourth grade classroom. As my physical body deteriorated, so did my mental state. I slowly began to have auditory and visual delusions that were genuinely terrifying. These would occur mostly at night, as the din of hospital machinery and frequent checks on my vital signs interfered with my sleep. Nights bled into days with no distinction, and\u00A0I fell further down the rabbit hole and inhabited a world of hallucinations 24/7. Since I had no means to communicate what I was seeing and hearing, my loved ones and medical team were unaware of my mental state.  I would hear a strange voice swearing at me incessantly long into the night. I would see my son being kidnapped and try desperately to get him back, but I couldn&amp;#039;t move. I saw my husband being robbed at gunpoint repeatedly while clusters of police officers sat on bleachers ignoring my pleas for help. My best friend was constantly being chased by fire and wild dogs. In reality, I would beg the nurses to help me find my family by mouthing words and writing illegibly in my notebook. These were fruitless attempts, since nothing I tried to communicate could be deciphered. During the months that followed, I began to recover\u00A0and eventually regained the ability to speak. Yet, when I spoke, I made little sense. I ordered a nurse to release me because I had to attend my friend&amp;#039;s wedding. I told my husband that I had been out late at a concert and was given permission from the doctor to drink soda and eat cereal. My exasperated husband would scream, &amp;quot;Lisa, you did not go to a concert! You can&amp;#039;t even MOVE! You aren&amp;#039;t allowed to eat or drink anything. YOU&amp;#039;RE IN THE HOSPITAL!&amp;quot;  I became extremely agitated by my husband&amp;#039;s bold &amp;quot;lies&amp;quot; and couldn&amp;#039;t figure out why he always had to be such a\u00A0Debbie Downer. Once, while hallucinating that someone had dropped off an important envelope for me with legal documents, I kept pressing the call button for the nurse to help me find the fictional envelope. Since she had no idea what I was trying to mouth, the nurse scolded me for my bizarre behavior and warned me to stop wasting her time. I was even physically restrained more than once after being accused of pulling out my trachea tubing. The fact that no one understood my world of delirium only compounded my deep depression. Unless you&amp;#039;ve lived it, it&amp;#039;s near impossible to understand the agony of being psychotic. I consider myself extraordinarily fortunate to be on the other side of those terrifying episodes. As my body slowly returned to health, so did my mind. Many never recover from psychosis and live encapsulated in a frightening and isolated world. I have endured a lot of physical pain in my life, including remaining conscious while my colon died inside me and receiving an emergency tracheotomy without anesthetics. Still, no physical pain I&amp;#039;ve ever faced compares to the mental anguish I experienced during those terrorizing months in the ICU. Suffering from psychosis feels like running from a raging fire while being chained to a boulder. Your mind holds you hostage in a false universe and there is no chance to escape because you&amp;#039;re running from yourself. I was well into my physical and mental recovery before I found out I had been suffering from ICU Psychosis. This condition can develop when spending an extended period of time in the ICU with limited connection to the outside world. It can be brought on by sleep deprivation, extreme pain, dehydration, and isolation. Hallucinations, paranoia, and agitation, among many others, can be indicators of ICU Psychosis. Treatments may include sedatives, and adjusting the ICU lighting to reflect the natural passage of time. The condition typically subsides almost immediately after a patient is discharged from the ICU and a normal daily rhythm is restored. Because I was in the ICU for over 60 days, it took a month for my psychotic symptoms to dissipate. Although I had been released from the ICU, I remained hospitalized for another 120 days. The typical treatment for ICU Psychosis is returning to healthy sleep patterns, physical exercise, and &amp;quot;normal life activities.&amp;quot; Since those opportunities were unavailable to me, my exodus from psychosis was prolonged. I can&amp;#039;t pinpoint a moment where I was suddenly free from psychotic episodes. Just as my decline into delirium was slow, so was my upward climb back to reality.  I was not officially diagnosed or treated for ICU Psychosis during my hospitalization. Until I was able to speak again, there was no way for anyone to detect the tormenting scenes that looped through the reel of my mind. Even when I regained the ability to talk, most chalked up my nonsensical conversations to me being\u00A0&amp;quot;out of it.&amp;quot;\u00A0 My close friend has a Ph.D. in psychology and had been very concerned about my erratic behavior. She researched ICU Psychosis when I was sick and shared her findings with me after I returned home. During a follow-up appointment with my surgeon, I described my hallucinations and other symptoms and she confirmed I had, in fact, been suffering from ICU Psychosis. I felt better knowing what happened to me had a name and was less ashamed of my psychosis knowing that it was caused by a circumstance beyond my control. I didn&amp;#039;t realize then that regardless of what type of psychosis someone has, or the situation surrounding the onset, it is always out of their control. Ten years later, I publicly speak with medical professionals and other organizations to offer a rare glimpse into the world of psychosis. I hope to see the day where more people suffering from this affliction will be able to tell the world their own recovery stories. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/health/a37936/i-had-a-psychotic-break/>