Calhoun Street1
Room 1072
By3
Max Baumeister4
Chapter 15
Fell asleep in Heaven and Awoke in Hell6
The day was clear, bright and people were busy going about their usual lives. Sunshine cast a taunting light upon the mystical beauty of the world. Birds, there were many, and they sang as though a tomorrow did not exist. I am sure that most of the people strolling across the sidewalks we passed would agree with such a description.7
I looked out the car window while I smiled grimly at the irony I beheld. I held a grim salty perspective of the world in my eyes. In my eyes the sun was not shinning, but rather… it seemed to have vanished into an abyss of darkness. Greedy, the sun dare hid the rays of light from my eyes. To me the world was being swallowed with darkness. Darkness crept like moss upon a grand oak tree. It crept, and crept, and engulfed my dieing world. In my heart I hoped that the darkness would eventually engulf me, but I suppose I was not worthy of such a fine fate.8
To most people this would seem to be a wonderful day but not to me. The Nature was, to be quite honest, mystically beautiful and so I thought about this irony as my dad and I made the long drive down to New Orleans. My dad’s senselessness to directions tacked on an additional hour. He seemed flustered.9
While I sat in the seat of the car I thought it odd that just last night I had slept with ease and rested contently with no fears or concerns of what the next day would bring. I had gone to bed the night before worrying only about planning my social calendar and was awoken to find out something very shocking. I couldn’t believe it. “How could this be happening to me?” I wondered. Yes, that is right, I- Max Baumeister- was going to be sent away to stay in a psychiatric hospital. “But where is the freedom!” I roared. “Where is the justice!” I yelled. “I am getting better on these medicines!” I said so cunningly- at the time I almost believed myself.10
“Well, although there are some “bad news” to give in the world this has got to be one of the worst and how you approach it had to be difficult for my parents. However, they seemed fine when they walked in my room that morning and said, “Get on your clothes- your going to the hospital.” I of course literally rolled out of bed.11
I was given this news early in the morning and quite naturally this surprise left me feeling as though my life had been smashed to pieces. I wasn’t sick, so why, why, why, was I going to go to a hospital? My entire body shook with anxiety as I tried to understand what was happening to me. 12
“What the Hell do you mean? Send me to a God Damned psychiatric hospital?” I raged with a burning madness. “What the hell are you sending me to a hospital for? Nobody told me about this. Somebody could have been nice enough to inform me a little earlier!” You know what- I’m not going to a hospital!” I’m not easily surprised, but that morning I was very startled, and I did not know how to handle myself. In all honesty I suppose my life wasn’t going exactly all that well- I had just been kicked out of school, I was on lots of medicines, I had lots of problems- but never- never did I think it would come to this. I was furious, confused, and when I threatened not to cooperate my dad told me a police officer would take me if I didn’t go peacefully. This might have inspired my reluctant silence. Those two words- well, it does it to us all.13
As I rode in the car to the hospital I reflected on that morning with contempt. My dad finally broke the silence as he began a conversation. He spoke about how comfortable the place was likely to be. “There might be a television in your room, perhaps a phone, and most likely a bathroom. I am sure you will be well taken care of and everything will be comfortable. Perhaps you will be able to buzz the staff to come to your room when you want.” my dad said with what seemed to be a speck of uncertainty. Nevertheless, I fully believed or at least hoped that it would be the case. 14
The car swerved around the wild streets of New Orleans as my dad made a desperate attempt to find the hospital. Oddly, I appeared rather content in the seat of the car as I watched the buildings pass. I admit, I was anxious, very anxious, but I also did not comprehend what was happening to me. Perhaps I chose not to comprehend, or perhaps it was the medicine. Perhaps it was both.15
My mind was ticking furiously as I tried to sort through all the events that were moving so fast. When I thought of a mental hospital lots of memories arose. I pictured people in cells yelling madly and waving their hands in the air. I pictured hallways with ill people meandering around aimlessly. In my mind I pictured people talking to their selves, disoriented, and mad! What would this hospital be like? All the stories I have read about hospitals were quite scary. Now, I have been to a health care center before but I was told this one was suppose to be much different, and ironically, I fear different. 16
As, we continued on, of course we got lost about a billion times- we were right outside the city but I have never really found it all that inviting. We had to ask several people for directions and parked in every wrong space possible. We wandered about so aimlessly- so mindless- if people had thought us to be crazy- well I suppose they would be right. Yet, neither of us really gave a damn about what other people thought. We were too caught up in anxiety. I was going to go to a hospital and was to stay there for maybe a week. I really hadn’t a clue how long I would be there. My dad was probably wondering if they would be able to help me, would insurance cover me, or if I even wanted help? They were all understandable and valid questions, and I suspected his mind was as tangled with confusion as was mine.17
I breathed a sigh of relief as the car finally found its way into the hospital parking lot. There were several towering buildings in front me, and I looked up gravely at them. It was getting dark outside, and the prestigious buildings looked somewhat mystical. My eyes studied the structure in hopes that it might have some clue as to how comfortable the inside was. I had greatly feared the building would resemble the ever so popular trashy theme New Orleans seemed to adopt. Yet, the outside appearance met my standards, and I hoped the inside would not disappoint me. For some odd reason my mind was heavily focused on how comfortable my living quarters might be. I know this was odd. Why was I thinking about my living area at a time like this? - but give me a break- perhaps- perhaps- I was lucky to have such a fortunate distraction.18
As my dad and I found and entered the admission, I immediately began to get extremely nervous. My body shook, my voice was squeaky, and I began to get very angry. I was extremely anxious, and I felt I had a damned good reason to be. People looked at me oddly and a few people even dared shot nasty glances. This only infuriated me. I mean common- seriously- what is my problem- they want to know? Well, um, For starters, I am being admitted into a psychiatric ward. How can people have the nerve to treat you with looks and glances of annoyance? If I were dieing of cancer and came in on a gurney would they cough and yell and scream at me? And at this point of time I looked down at the ground, my blue eyes throbbing with tears waiting to burst, and I mumbled, “what a rotten life.” 19
After our long drive I was forced to sit in a waiting room for about fifteen minutes when a young man asked my dad and I to step inside one of the rooms. He was fairly young- in his late 20’s I suppose, and he had a very boyish look. I hated his haircut and every time I looked at him it pained me- I’m serious- it pained me. He had the haircut of a six year old, and it looked like a zoo that was in dire need of appropriate maintenance. 20
“Max,” he said. Immediately, I was greatly aggravated by his rather dull monotone voice. He fit the perfect description of an employ that didn’t give a damn.21
“Yes, that is my name you moron!” I reacted in a not quite so monotone voice. 22
“Can you begin by telling me when you were born?”23
“Hah! I’m about to be locked up and you want to chitchat about my birthday? I’m going to be locked up and that is what you ask me? Asshole!” I roared and rolled my eyes with a heavy sigh.24
“I don’t know what has become of him. He was pleasant on the ride up here,” my dad protested as he attempted to justify my poor behavior.25
“Shutup dad!” I clinched my teeth and gave another heavy sigh. The man gazed at me with an overcoming look of extreme boredom.26
“He was born March 29, 1986,” my dad said softly.27
“Very well,” The man mumbled. “Max, do you do drugs?”28
“No, not really,” I said in a mist of thought. 29
“He drinks!” My dad roared divergently. He said it with such passion and extreme confidence. I found my dad’s remarks highly annoying and I made no attempt to hide my feelings. 30
“Shutup dad. Nobody asked you. Why the hell do you have to be so freaking obnoxious. Drinking and doing drugs are completely different things.” My dad ignored me as he continued.31
“I think he might smoke.”32
“I don’t smoke! Shutup- for Christ’s sake! Are you trying to make me mad or something? Is this your way of getting back at me for all the wrong things I have done? Throw me in a fucking mental hospital?”33
The man finally interrupted my drama with an eerie calmness. I began to wonder if he was even listening to me, and for some reason- I really wanted him to listen. The man spoke up, “Do you know why you’re at this hospital?”34
“No, No, I haven’t a clue! I woke up this morning to discover that I was being sent to the hospital, and nobody wants to inform me about such arrangements. Apparently, nobody thought it would affect my life. I guess you guys don’t think I have a life. I sure the hell don’t have a life anymore.” I rambled on an on with what turned into meaningless sentences.35
The young worker wrote some notes with extreme ease. I almost wanted to take the clipboard from him and write the information for myself to make things go a little more quickly. Well, either that, or hit him on the head with clipboard. Perhaps I was being a little mean because I was anxious. I was anxious but also looking forward to seeing what my new home would look like. I only hoped it would meet my expectations. I was also very curious about the people I would be around. Perhaps they would be extremely weird, but I greatly hoped they would be to my liking. I had stayed in a hospital before- not this type- but nevertheless, I had a big social problem. My ability to make friends was hindered by my arrogance, and I was now quite aware of this. This time I would try not to make the same impression of arrogance as I had before. My first hospital stay was for two days, and I was sure this stay would be slightly longer. Thus, I wished to make friends with those who I would be living among. I realize my fixation on such minute things at such a critical time in my life is a bit odd, but this was my way of dealing with things. I was very much upset with what was happening to me, but I tried to push my problems out of the way and focus on other irrelevant things. Also, I think a part of me was a tad glad about the whole situation- not sure why.36
“Can I ask,” the man began with a long sigh as he interrupted my wandering thoughts. “Why do you wear those sunglasses?” 37
I had an expensive pair of Oakley’s on my face- which I wore all the time. They were darkly tinted with a mirror reflection, and I wore them even at night. I wore sunglasses night, day, sunny, dark, inside or outside. I wore them all the time! My eyes were rather sensitive to light, but I wore them for a much more important reason; yes, they made me feel protected. Behind the shaded glass I felt secure and safe. It was as though I could see everybody and nobody could see me. I had adopted this very elementary idea, and these illusions made me feel safe and secure. It didn’t bother me how stupid it sounded, because I thought I was protected by the shaded lens! Perhaps it disregards rationality but it made me feel better, and that- that is the only thing that matters. I answered his question carefully. “I have a problem with my eyes and the doctor said I can wear them.” 38
The young man was not appeased with my answer and he continued to question me. “You mean to say a doctor said you could wear those?”39
“That is what I said! Are you deaf?”40
“Are they prescription eye wear?”41
“The glasses are not prescription,” I answered, “but a doctor allows me to wear them wherever I go.”42
“He is telling the truth,” my dad said in agreement. “He wears them wherever he goes, and a doctor wrote an order allowing him to were them.” For the first time that day I was happy that my dad spoke up.43
“And- if you could- explain why you wear them.” The man droned on.44
“My eyes are very sensitive to light,” I confessed. I was lying through my teeth and I suspected he was aware of the true reason that I wore them. He gave me a sharp look, bit his lip and looked at his clipboard as he began to write once more.45
“May I speak to your dad alone?” He said as he finished writing on the chart. 46
“I want to hear whatever you have to say! You are going to talk about me? Haven’t I got the right to be present?” I protested with anger. 47
“How about we go in another room?” The man asked my dad. I was outraged. The worker spoke directly to my dad and completely ignored me. Instead of protesting I simply put my hands over my face, my elbows on my knees and I sat with my eyes closed wishing for death.48
As I sat in my seat I knew some awful memories were to be created at this hospital. I didn’t know when, how or why- it was just a feeling. An awful feeling burning in depths of my mind, and through my pessimism I saw very little light. 49
My dad spent a good ten minutes talking to the man in another room. The ten minutes dragged on for what seemed like years, and I was happy when they returned. 50
“Okay,” the man said. “I’m now going to take you up to the residential unit. Would you follow me?” My dad and I let him lead us as we walked out into the cold. It was now dark and some stars shown in the deep, clear, blue sky. I tried to picture myself immerging into sky and just becoming part of it. I don’t know if most people do it- but it seems whenever I am in a bad situation I look for something mystical or eye-catching and just imagine myself floating mindlessly away with it. I could also imagine myself in the warmth of my home carrying on as I normally did, and living what I considered a very normal life. I already missed my freedoms. I already missed my life. I already missed the world, and although part me of felt like I was trapped or given a good smack across the face, part of me felt relieved.51
We went inside the base of one of the gargantuan buildings and into an elevator that brought us to the third floor. The elevator opened to display a solid wooden door on the right and a conference room on the left. The solid door was unlocked with the tour guide’s key, and the three of us entered into the nurses’ station, which was placed in the center of the floor. On the right side of the nurses station there was the adolescent unit, and on the left was the preadolescent unit. There were several people that greeted me with hellos and curious eyes. I scoffed angrily with a fire of rage burning inside of me. All the workers eyes were lighted up like mine were when I my baby cat Riley. The people in the nurses’ station immediately began to talk to me, and I responded with my sassy, arrogant attitude. Yet, my anger and attitude did not seem to intimidate any of the workers nor did anyone regard my threats with the least amount of thought. The nurse was extremely annoying to look at, and I smiled with an evident phoniness at her stupid comments. I honestly wanted to slap her, and I dazed off as I pictured myself doing so. It would surely have alarmed her- oh- and it would have been quite fun. Yet, I thought it best that I didn’t. I decided I would be potty trained.52
A social worker came to me and shook my hand. I forced a smile and indulged her need to tell me how wonderful I look. “You have a beautiful smile.” 53
“Thanks,” I muttered as I rolled my eyes.54
“What about your eyes? I would really like to see your eyes. Can you remove those sunglasses?” 55
“No, I won’t remove them. A doctor prescribed them and told me that I was allowed to wear them.” 56
“Why do you have to wear them?” 57
“It seriously isn’t any of your damned business. If you don’t believe me ask my dad. I don’t wish to talk about this anymore!” The social worker looked at my dad who nodded and then she looked back at me and smiled. You have no idea how much I wanted to knock that smile off her face.58
“Can I get your measurements?” the nurse asked softly as she interrupted the drama between the social worker and me. She measured my height and took my blood pressure. I stepped onto the scale to be weighed and she informed me that I had to take my sunglasses off before I got weighed. My stupidity got the better of me, and I removed them from my face as I got onto the scale. It was a stupid action on my behalf. How the hell could sunglasses interfere with my weight? It surely wouldn’t throw my weight off! Yet, it wasn’t oblivious to me what exactly I did until I asked for my sunglasses back. “My sunglasses?” I requested.59
“No,” she told me.60
“What! What!” I yelled when I finally understood what had happened. “You can’t do that! A doctor said I could wear them! Dad, Dad, tell her, would you!” My dad chimed in and told them that a doctor had, in fact, written an order for me to wear them. The nurse, however, felt that she could ignore the doctor’s orders, and I was outraged. I gave the nurse a look of betrayal as I swore at myself for my own stupidity. 61
After my dad had fetched the luggage he gave me a hug goodbye. “I’ll call you,” he said. He looked tired and worn- a distinct frown on his face.62
“No, no, don’t call me. I don’t want to hear a god damned thing from you.” My dad didn’t really respond to any of my heartless rudeness. He simply frowned and said goodbye as he left, and I didn’t think anything of it. I was really too upset and being to arrogant to understand how rude I was being, and I really wasn’t trying to be mean. All I knew was that my dad had just left me alone in this hellhole!63
After I said the short goodbye to my father I was whisked away and brought into the kitchen where the nurse began to question me. The kitchen was right next to the nurses’ station and was attached to the hallway. This long hallway had rooms on either side, and at the end of hallway was a room known as the “dayroom”. The dayroom, I was soon to find out, was the room where all of the inmates congregated. 64
I sat calmly and answered the questions with cooperation. Yet, I was angered by something the nurse said, and it greatly bothered me. I remember the event quite well.65
“Are you dating anybody?” she asked. 66
“Yes,” I said, “I am.” She began to write it down and then mumbled, “and you are having sex too.” I looked at her in bewilderment. 67
“No, no, I’m not.” I said bluntly. 68
“But, didn’t you say you were dating somebody?”69
“Yes, I did, but that doesn’t mean I am having sex, does it! How disgusting that you make an immediate conclusion that I must be sexually involved if I am dating! I am outraged that you would automatically connect those two together. Most likely you connected the two together because I am in a hospital?” I stated more than I asked and continued swiftly, “You know- not everyone lives in your shitty morale-less world!” I was over reacting, and she stared at me with a startled look. Yet, I could see in her eyes that she was very reluctant to believe me, and it made me angry. That question continues to bother me.70
After the interview I gathered my belongings and was taken to my room by an employee. He was going to do a body check and search all of my belongings for any contraband. I got extremely nervous when he said, “body search,” and sweat began to form on my forehead. In my right pocket I had a bottle with a single pill of Aprazolam. Of course, I wasn’t allowed to have it, and they would most likely be outraged if they knew I carried such a potent drug in my pocket. Yet, holding the bottle delivered some needed comfort to my brain, and I didn’t want to lose it. It was the same irrationality that fueled my problems with sunglasses. The sunglasses added an odd sense of comfort and that one little pill, Aprazolam, delivered the same irrational comfort. 71
“Do you have anything in your pockets?” The man asked me. I looked at him playfully and stuck my hands in my pocket as if to investigate. My brain jumped frantically as I thought of a plan to sneak the bottle by the employee. I hadn’t much time to think, and thus, I quickly decided to put it up the sleeve of my jacket and take a risk of being caught. As my hands felt the bottom of my pockets I pushed the bottle into my sleeve. I then removed the contents of my pockets to satisfy his eyes. I had but a few coins and old candy wrappers.72
“Okay, now I need you to remove your clothing.” He meant no harm by his question, but such a phrase could be meant in many different ways. As my mind interpreted the demand I began to grow depressed. The problem was that I head heard that sentence before. 73
“Remove my clothing? I am really uncomfortable with that. I don’t want to remove my clothing in front of a guy.”74
“No, no” he replied, “Just pants and shirt need to be removed.” I nodded with a new understanding and hesitantly followed his orders. I had heard that sentence before too.75
I took off my jacket, balled it up, and tossed it upon my bed. My mind throbbed with anxiety as I wondered if he was going to search it. I immediately removed my shirt to distract any attention that might be on the jacket. It seemed to have worked. He began searching my pants and shirt, while the jacket was left untouched. I stood observing as my mind raced with anxiety and fear descended upon me like a large mass of fog. It was my duty to protect that pill and I seemed to be succeeding. He hadn’t touched my jacket- not yet. I happily watched the man finish searching my belongings and leave the room. He said something, but I am not really sure what it was. I was too focused on the pill and my amazing slickness. 76
As he left the room I smiled happily, and I pulled the bottle out of my jacket and clinched it with satisfaction. I wondered if they might wish to search me again. What if they searched me and found my contraband? In preparation for such an occurrence, I began to search for somewhere to hide my bottle. 77
My room was plain and simple. It was actually a complete disappoint. I remembered what my dad had told me about the room having a television, and having a bell to ring for a nurse, and I forced myself to laugh at the absurdity. Yet, my laughter was more of sobbing moan. My room was dull and had only a bed and closet. There was no television! There was no nurse following me around and tending to my needs. There was no luxurious bathroom with warm towels! I began to wonder who the hell told my dad my dad the glorious description that he passed onto me. The room had a bed with two drawers that could be pulled out to store belongings in. There were also two windows. At the top of the wall there was a very small window, and the other window was large and about three feet from the ground and displayed a view of the hospital grounds. They were lightly tinted windows and double pained to prevent breakage. There was a small storage closet where I could hang clothes, and store some belongings. 78
Finally I came up with what I thought to be an ideal hiding place. It seemed to be a clever idea, and I thought it must be as safe as any other hiding place. My hiding place would be in my pocket! I would keep the bottle on myself at all times. They could search my room a million times and never find anything. I, of course, realized that if somebody searched me I might not be as lucky as I had been the first time. Yet, I didn’t think it likely that they would search me again. Nobody would ever suspect that I dared to carry the pill with me. At least I didn’t think they would- However, if they did search me, and found the bottle, goodness, God knows what they would do. I actually had a back up hiding place. If I had to I could stick the bottle in the trashcan beside my desk. They never search the trashcan or so I thought. I had everything planned out, and- I thought I was simply being over cautious. There’s no way they would search me. They had no reason to do so, and I would never give them a reason to. Nobody would ever suspect I was caring a bottle of medicine on me. They wouldn’t – would they?79
I put the bottle snuggly in my pocket and lay upon the bed, which was far from comfortable. “What will happen to me?” I wondered. “Can I survive this? Will I ever rejoin society? Have I messed up for the last time? Am I too much of a problem to live in the world? Perhaps it is better that I be locked up like an animal. Perhaps it is better, but I already missed my friends and my life. My friends would wonder where I was, and they might move on with their lives and forget about me. Life is cruel! Yet, most of all, what would people think? How will they respond when they know I was in a nut house? I was sure they would hate me- I hate me. I gave a sigh of desperation and then muttered, “Last night I fell asleep in heaven, and awoke in hell! How could this happen to me?” That line stuck in my head…80
My pessimistic and hopeless thoughts continued for a good ten minutes. I just didn’t understand. In all truth- I was a very anxious person who took a lot of medicine and my dad always said he would send me away to get my medicine straightened out but I never believed him. I was also severely depressed but- I thought- who isn’t- I am a teenager? Suddenly, a young man interrupted my on going thoughts. I was startled but relieved. Being left alone with your thoughts can be very difficult and upsetting. 81
“The doctor is here to see you,” he said.82
“The Doctor?” I asked rhetorically.83
“Yes, he is here and wants to see you.” 84
I leapt upon my feet as my mind swam in anxiety, and I began to panic. “I hope he likes me and-and-and oh my God, what if he changes my medicine? He better not take me off my medicine, I need it, and he can’t do that, but my thoughts leapt to that because I knew that if my dad was to send me away to somewhere- it would be to a place that would slice off as many medicines as possible. My deepest fear was that he might take me off my desired medicines. My mind was drowning in these questions, and I became extremely nervous. I honestly was afraid that he would not understand me- he would not understand my problems. At the time I wasn’t thinking clearly, but you must understand, irrationality is rational to an irrational person- or perhaps- just perhaps I am being irrational?85
I came out of my room and looked down the hallway as a distinguished man walked toward me. My hands were sweating with anxiety, my leg twitched, and I made no attempts to hide my problems. I wanted the doctor to see just how sick I was. There would be less chance of a medicine change.86
“Max, how are you doing,” the man asked as he approached me. He reached out to shake my hand. I reluctantly gratified his gesture. “Doctor Victor,” he said with a smile as he shook my hand. I was impressed with his appearance. He wore a black suit with a nice pair of leather shoes and had a clean-shaven face. His posture was excellent, and I was amazed at how proportional his face was. He was missing some hair, but overall, he was a handsome man. 87
As he shook my hand he gave an eerie smile that unnerved me. I found it disturbing that he would dare smile to me and look so damned optimistic. My fixation on his smile began to make my frown even bigger. Smiling to me- in my opinion- was comparable to eating in front of a starving man. Here I was, miserable, tiered, hopeless, and my doctor- I say my doctor- he had the nerve to smile at me? I was shocked.88
“Max, would you come with me to my office?” The doctor asked. I nodded and followed him down the hallway and into a cramped office. I sat down in one of the chairs that looked a lot better than it felt. Chairs seem to always do that to me. The room was dark and depressing- very suiting. A single light gave the room its only warmth, and papers cluttered the desk.89
“How are you doing?” he asked90
“How am I doing?” I raged. I rapidly began to unravel into a loud mess. “How do you think I am doing? One-moment things are fine, and the next moment, I am in a hospital for God knows how long. Last night I slept with the only worry of planning my social calendar, but now-now- I have lost everything. I haven’t any freedoms, I can’t talk to my friends, and I will be watched 24 hours a day! So you ask me how I am doing, doctor? Well, how the hell do you think I am doing? Do you expect me to be happy because I am here? Do you think I want to be here? How am I doing? Why don’t you think about your questions before you ask them?” I was yelling dramatically, and I paused for a moment as my emotions took complete hold of me and tears began rushing down my face. “I just don’t understand why this stuff has to happen to me,” I wept. “I just want to be normal. I don’t understand why this happens to me.” I stopped talking for a moment and there was complete silence that was only broken every now and then by my sob.91
Doctor Victor’s smile had faded as a new expression formed on his face. I will never forget that expression. He looked at me with this hopeless, pathetic, and sympathetic look. His smile had completely vanished as he looked at me- his eyes flooded with extreme concern. A much more fitting expression I thought at the time.92
I finally broke the silence. “Doctor, they won’t let me wear my sunglasses. Would you please tell them that I am allowed to wear them? A doctor wrote a note saying I could.” I had calmed down a bit, and I wiped my eyes with Kleenex.93
“Well,” Doctor Victor began, finally speaking. “We are going to make a few changes for you. Lets see how you do without wearing them. I think you can handle it.”94
“What?” I asked in outrage. “I really need my sunglasses. My eyes are sensitive to light, and a doctor allowed me to wear them. 95
“Well, I am afraid you won’t be able to wear them here.”96
“But I need them! Please don’t do this to me!”97
“Let us see how you do without them,” the doctor said. I covered my hands with my face, tilted my head and began to sob heavily.98
“The hell with you, you asshole,” I mumbled.99
“Also,” the doctor continued on undisturbed by my reaction. “Some of your medicines are going to be changed,” he said carefully.100
“What, what,” I yelled lifting my head to display red eyes and a puffy face. “What medicines are you changing?” I yelled.101
“We will be cutting your Aprazolam, Remeron, celexa., and serquele by fifty percent.”102
“You can’t do that! Oh my God, why are you doing this? Those medicines are the only thing that allows me to live in this crappy world. If you take me off my medicines I won’t want to live! Oh, I hate my life! I want to die,” I wailed hysterically. I think the dramatics was one step away from a well-preformed Broadway theater Act.103
“Well-” the Doctor began to speak, but I cut him off. I knew he was about to end our session. I was talking nonsense, and he had things to do. Yet, I intended to detain him a little longer.104
“Please understand how hopeless I am,” I chattered on. “My medicine makes me feel better, and I have been on these medicines for years. They help me, and I don’t want you to take me off them.”105
“I’m sorry but we have to see what you are like off the medicines,” Dr. Victor responded.106
“But why?” I asked. “Why? I was put on those medicines because I didn’t feel well, and if you take me off I’ll just feel worse.” I looked at him, and although, I knew he wouldn’t budge on his decision, I felt the need to argue. I didn’t want him to take me off my medicines. I paused for a moment and then put my hands over my face once more and cried, “What have I done. What have I done?” 107
“I think-” I interrupted doctor Victor as he began to speak.108
“The only medicine I really care about is the Aprazolam,” I said. “Aprazolam makes me feel better, and it is the only thing that works for me. Perhaps you could leave me on it and take me off all other medicines.109
“You will be fine,” Doctor Victor assured me, but his eyes seemed to say otherwise. “Okay, well, we need to stop.” He said, and this time I didn’t bother to try and prolong our session. “How about you go to your room and just rest for a while. Perhaps you could take a little time to calm down and get yourself together.” 110
I sobbed hysterically and nodded my head to his suggestion. The doctor stood up and escorted me down the hall and into my room. 111
“I hope you feel better,” he said. I replied with a sob and entered my room. I was extremely depressed, and I felt I had truly reached the bottom of my life. I felt hopeless, worthless, and that the end of my life was upon me. 112
Everything about that day was awful, and it was hard for me not to scream out in frustration. It seemed my doctor was out to get me. He was taking me off medicines, and this was sure to harm me. Yet, his opinion ruled my life, and thus like it or not, I was forced to be subjective. My head swam with furry and confusion. I suffered greatly from insomnia, but that day I had been worn out and eagerly welcomed sleep. I got in my bed and grasped the bottle of Aprazolam in my pocket as I began to sob at the day’s trials I had faced. “Today was a miserable day,” I mumbled, and I never so greatly welcomed sleep. At this point in my life, sleep was the only relief I had from the troubled world.113
Chapter 2114
The New World115
My bed was as hard as a board, the air circulation was poor, and a technician checked on me every thirty minutes. Not to mention- I was in a strange, new place, but oddly despite all of this, I slept with great comfort. 116
A loud pounding on my bedroom door awoke me my first morning. I looked up as I saw a short African American women enter my room. She looked at me with grave curiosity.117
“Good morning Max,” she said with an annoyingly large amount of optimism.118
I muttered, “Good morning,” as I sat up and rubbed my weary eyes with my clinched fist.119
“It is time to get out of your bed and prepare to be called for a.m. care,” the woman said.120
“A.m. care?” I asked.121
“Yes- every morning we take turns washing, brushing our hair, and getting ready for breakfast. You will not be allowed to eat breakfast unless you have completed you’re a.m. care. I want you to stay in your room and I will call you out when it’s your turn.” She started to leave when she looked back at me and asked, “Do you have a toothbrush and deodorant?” I nodded my head and the door closed with a loud bang as she left.122
The door shut and I lay down on my bed. My entire body began to throb with anxiety as I wondered- what- what would my peers think of me? I recalled my first hospitalization all to well. In the first hospital I was arrogant, a pain in the ass, and everybody hated me. Obviously- I had no desire to repeat the experience. But- what if they thought I was too strange. After all, I was strange- very strange- and what if they did not take well to this? These questions filled my brain.123
“Matthew,” a loud voice echoed through the hallway and interrupted my thoughts. “Common, get up Matthew!” I was naturally curious as to what the screaming was about, and so, I got out of my bed and changed my clothes. Quickly placing on my shoes I opened the door to my room and peered out in the hallway.124
“Max, I didn’t call you out of your room,” the woman hollered at me when she saw my peeping face.125
“Oh, I’m sorry. I just heard you yell- and – well – I was just curious as to what was going on,” I explained.126
“Stay in your room with the door closed. We call peoples names one by one to come out of their rooms for a.m. care. You must remain in your room with the door closed until it is your turn.”127
I went back inside my room and shutting the door, I sighed at my stupidity. I must have looked completely dumb- not able to follow the easiest of instructions. However, I was not dumb- “I’m not” I told myself- “I’m really not”- it’s just that I needed time- time to familiarize myself with the place. I was completely disoriented- I was miserable and I had to get use to my environment.128
One brushed teeth- washed face and a minute later- I heard the technicians voice echo through the hallway once more, “Breakfast!” Carefully, I opened my door. I didn’t want to be yelled at again and so I made sure that it was okay to come out of my room. I saw the other doors open, and I decided it was safe to come out of my room. I walked down the hallway while I pretended to ignore all of the curious looks that other patients were giving me. My eyes looked at the hideous food, my morning breakfast. It almost looked like- vomit- it made me want to. The scrambled eggs looked cold and slimy, the grits reminded me of the Movie Oliver Twist when the actor was eating his mushy food and the sausage… I doze off for a second as I pictured the sausage’s grease filling up my arteries. I wouldn’t eat it, and I hoped that the food would be better the next day. Instead, I took a seat at one of the four tables that rested in the back of the kitchen. The other kids followed my every move with their eyes- they were very curious. I, of course, pretended not to notice, and not to care. Yet, I did care. In fact, I cared a great deal. Earlier that morning I had spent time thinking of what I was to say and how I was to act. I was determined not to show any sign of my arrogance. Although, I was better than them, it seemed to be in my best interest not to show it. The irony in the latter sentence I seemed not to comprehend at that moment in my life. 129
“What are you in here for,” the kid behind me asked as I took a seat at one of five tables the table. He had long untamed hair that protruded in every direction. His mangled hair wreck looked as though it hadn’t been washed in days. A pair of glasses rested on his rather big nose. Yet, oddly, his nose was kind of cute. It was a “snoopy” nose.130
“I’m not really sure. I don’t know why I am here,” I responded solemnly. The kid cracked a smile and there seemed to be unified laughter among those whose attention was focused on me. I even noticed an employee, who had overhead me, crack a smile.131
“What? What’s so funny?” I asked.132
“Well, it is just that, nobody ever seems to know why they are here. I guess it is kind of like jail. In jail everybody claims they are innocent, and in a mental institute- I guess- everybody claims they’re sane!”133
“But-” I began. “I don’t really know why I am here. I guess there are a few things, but I haven’t done anything real bad.”134
“Sure- sure your perfectly normal!” he said with sarcasm. “By the way what’s your name anyways?” he asked. 135
“My name is Max,” I said, “Max Baumeister.” 136
“My name is Tommy,” he replied.137
All eyes were pinned on me, and I attempted to make small talk to ease the tension. “What is that employee’s name?” I asked referring to the African American woman who presided at the front of the room. Her eyes gazed upon us like a snake encircling its’ prey. Of course, she heard the question that I asked, but she seemed to understand that I was struggling to make conversation. Fortunately, she looked away as if she were not paying attention. The answer to my question didn’t even matter to me. I was struggling to make a good impression. 138
“Her names Ms. Olivia,” said Tommy. 139
My eyes fell upon a kid in a table across from mine, and his eyes were fixed upon me. When I looked at him he was startled and said, “Hey what’s up- the names Jeff.” He nodded his head, and I could tell this guy was going to become a friend of mine. His attitude- it was just- well- it was appealing. He smiled at me and revealed several discolored teeth. I was disgusted and at first- I thought it was food. However, I would later find out that smoking lots of pot had caused it.140
The other kid sitting at the table looked at me with curiosity. “What is your name?” he asked me.141
“Max,” I said once again, “My name is Max, and what is your name?”142
“The names Jeff. What’s up max,” he said as he gave me a rather awkward smile. Parts of his teeth were discolored and overcome with decay. One tooth was completely brown, and at first I thought it was food. Yet, I quickly learned that smoking Pot had caused it. 143
“So, this is ur first hospital?” Jeff asked with a strong tone of interest.144
“No,” I said with a sigh. “I was in a hospital once before because of my chronic anxiety. I hated the place. However, it was a lot different then this place” 145
“I see,” Jeff muttered. “Well, in time you’ll hate this shit hole.”146
“I already do,” I declared in assurance.147
“Hey Max- how are you? My names Peter,” a kid from a table to the right of me said. He nodded his head in acceptance and gave a glowing smile- a very charming smile- like Tony the tiger on the Frosted Flakes box. Yes, that was what it reminded me of. There was something about him- he seemed like a very intelligent guy- very curious- very kind. 148
“How old are you?” I asked him, throwing the question back.149
“17 nearly 18,” he replied. Whatever medicines he was on- they were most certainly working! 150
“I’m 16,” I replied as I let out a slight smile.151
Breakfast continued on in this fashion, as I made idle talk and introduced myself to nearly everybody in the room. There were 5 guys and two girls in the room. However, for some reason I wasn’t allowed to communicate with the girls- I would later understand why. Nevertheless, those that I talked to-they were all interesting- very interesting people and I liked all of them. Luckily, I hadn’t screwed up and they all seemed to take interest in me. Perhaps this place won’t be so bad- just perhaps. But then again- in the back of my mind I wondered- I mean how- how would they take to my big secret? I couldn’t hide it for to long. It is a part of me, and I don’t want to live in fear with this secret- perhaps they wouldn’t mind. However, in the back of my mind, I had a feeling that this secret would not go well.152
~ ~ ~153
After breakfast I was sent back to my room where I sat when I heard Ms. Oliva holler out into the hallway, “room check.” Several moments later I heard my doorknob twist as she stuck her head in. “Every morning and evening we have to clean our room and pull out the drawers to our desk and bed while an employee looks at everything. We want to make sure all of your stuff is orderly and that you don’t have anything you are not supposed to have- okay? So, I want you to get everything straightened and prepared. I am going to start checking the other rooms and I’ll check yours last- you will have time to get everything in order.” She began to leave but stopped. “And one last thing- If you are on level three then you have the privilege to aid the employee by helping with room check.” As she told me I didn’t think much of it but suddenly- a chill ran through my body as I realized something. What if – what if they found my bottle of Xananx I began to panic 154
“So, you-you just check our rooms?” I asked as I pried for specifics. 155
“Yes,” Ms. Olivia said as she slurred out that one word to make it occupy several sentence. I guessed she was becoming slightly suspicious.156
“They don’t do a body search, do they?” 157
“No,” she said with a laugh and then gave me a suspicious but joking look, “Do you have any reason for us to search you.”158
“No, no” I yelled out immediately. “I just- well- I don’t like people touching me, and I was just making sure I didn’t have to be searched every morning.159
My answer seemed to satisfy her, and so I began to prepare my room for room check.160
~ ~ ~161
We went to our bedrooms for at least five minutes after each event. Employees always called this time, “transitioning time”. We ended up spending what seemed like half the day in our rooms. I thought it was just one big excuse to give the employees a break from all of the nagging and annoyance. I couldn’t blame them. 162
Ms. Olivia shouted the word, “community,” and we all filed out of our rooms as we walked down the hallway into the room with the words “dayroom” stamped upon the door in big black letters. The dayroom wasn’t a very big room. It was small and narrow, but comfortable, and it had several couches to sit on. There was a television, a foosball table, and several pieces of furniture. I caught the sight of a drain in the middle of the floor. At first I had no idea what it was doing there- why the hell is there a drain in the middle of the room? Yet, I was later informed that the “dayroom” had once been a porch and the drain had previously been used for proper removal of rainwater. Odd I thought… To give the room a cozy look there were a couple of beautiful paintings on the wall. The paintings were, of course, made of pure plastic just incase a patient had the urge to throw them.163
We all sat down on the couches while Ms. Olivia took a chair in the middle of the room, and carefully examined her clipboard. She wore a set of glimmering earrings, with hair that I am sure she spent a good deal of time tending to. She looked much younger than her age, and there was a soothing lively hood in her voice- she sounded young. Her smile was warm, and she came across as a very energetic person-, which she was. 164
“Okay, sit down. We are going to begin community. Respect each other and respect yourself. No talking. Today we are going to begin with Thomas. Thomas how do you feel?”165
Thomas was a rather awkward looking kid. He reminded me of an ostridge with his slender head that increased into a rather large waist. He had long blond hair with a narrow nose. When Ms. Olivia called on him he looked dazed and appeared to be off in some other land. He often went into his own little world, “Peter Pan Land,” as the employee’s called it.166
“Earth to Thomas,” Ms. Olivia said in a light hearted voice and everyone laughed as he looked at us with his clueless gaze.167
“Mmm… yes,” Thomas said looking at her in surprise168
“Thomas,” Ms. Olivia said as she shook her head and gave a cheerful laugh. She smiled warmly at him. “Thomas, community- check in.”169
He gave no heed to our laughter and he began to talk quite casually. “Hmm, well let me see,” he began. “I guess I have been doing okay. I am- I mean- I talked to my mom on the phone last night. She was watching “The Firm.” You know what movie I’m talking about, right?” Thomas looked around the room as he chuckled to himself. I looked back at him with interest- he hadn’t a clue that he was off of the topic- not to mention, making absolutely no sense.170
Ms. Olivia looked at him and with an exaggerated voice said, “Thomas, can you please focus. I just want you to tell me how you are doing.”171
“But-?” he started.172
“Stop,” Ms. Olivia replied quickly with a smile. Then her face became very stern and she said, “Common, seriously Thomas. How do you feel today?” 173
“Common on for goodness sakes!” Jeff chimed in. We don’t care about that stupid crap you say! Just tell us how you feel,” he roared. The other kids nodded their heads in a unified agreement, and I gave a deep sigh. 174
“You do this every day. You end up going on and on about something stupid. We don’t need this bullshit,” Jeff continued with a very pessimistic tone. 175
“Okay common, settle down and Jeff don’t use that language!” Ms. Olivia said raising her voice and throwing in her authority. “Do you need to go to the control room Jeff?” Ms. Olivia asked firmly as she tired to restore order in the room. She then spoke, “Thomas would you like to continue by telling us how you feel.”176
“I guess- well- I’m not sure. I don’t feel-like- real happy but I don’t feel real sad. So I guess I am in the middle. Well, in the middle but I’m not unhappy or happy.”177
“Okay,” Ms. Olivia said shaking her head. 178
“Thomas, I hope they get your meds straightened out.” Jeff said as he chuckled, rolled his eyes, and glanced at my solemn face.179
Apparently- ever since Thomas had been taken off his meds he had been a little loopy. When people first enter the hospital their meds are traditionally removed to see how a person functions without them. Some people do better off their meds. In this current day and age doctors over prescribe and it is causing hell. I see many people that are put on needless medicines, and sometimes it hurts them more than it helps. But Thomas- Thomas was a train wreck. He needed to be put back on some medication. Thomas had entered the hospital because of problems I really find to depressing to talk about but it turned out he had many other problems that were just now being brought out into the light. It seems most people come into the hospital for one problem but end up realizing they have a whole lot more going on in their lives. 180
“Do you know your goal?” Mrs. Kim asked.181
“um- I don’t remember my goal.” he said dramatically. He stretched every word out into several seconds. He was talented in doing so. Sometimes it could literally take several minutes for him to say something. He wasn’t stupid, but simply, disoriented, and completely scattered. 182
“You know you won’t get your goal point today. You need to remember your goal Thomas!” Ms. Olivia said shaking her head. 183
“Oh I don’t care,” he mumbled. 184
“Well with that attitude you will be here a while,” she said bluntly and immediately turned to face me.”185
“Max your next, how are you feeling?” 186
“What is a point sheet and a goal?” I asked nervously as I tapped my foot.187
“I’ll explain that later, but right now, could you just tell me how you feel.” 188
After thinking a moment I looked into her brown eyes, frowning, “I feel depressed,” I said bluntly. I honestly did feel depressed. I thought my entire world was crashing down on me and God- I was miserable! I felt bad all the time, and sometimes I wondered - I wondered- if feeling bad was simply feeling normal. 189
“Do you know how long you will be here?” Ms. Olivia asked with what I thought to be an odd curiousness.190
“No, no, not really. I guess a week or so.”191
Everybody in the room started laughing while Ms. Olivia frowned. It was kind of a laugh of pity, and it made me feel stupid.192
“Man, you won’t be here a week,” Tommy said.193
“What do you mean?” I asked. “I won’t be here a week? Then how long will I be here and how the hell do you know how long I’ll be here,” I asked with an authoritative tone.194
“Nobody told you when you were being admitted?” Ms. Olivia asked. She repeated my words outloud, “week or two.” 195
“Nobody told me. I don’t know how long I am going to be here,” I roared in growing anxiety. I paused a moment and then I asked the million dollar question that everybody was so dramatically pumping me for, “So, how long am I going to be here?” 196
~ ~ ~197
They looked at me with excitement in their faces, and they were dieing to tell me to see what my response would be. I was furious that these kids could get joy from further crumbling my already falling world. Everybody’s face lit up while Ms. Olivia looked at me with a face that was toppling with pity.198
“How long will I be here?” I asked again.199
“The average stay is three to six months,” Mrs. Kim said softly, her eyes fixed on mine. I looked around at the other patients in complete disbelief.200
“What did you say?” I asked as I bit my lip.201
“Three to six months,” Matthew repeated.202
“What? Impossible! How long have you been here Jeff?”203
“You really want to know?” he asked.204
“Yes,” I cried. “Yes, I want to know!”205
“Roughly four months,” he said with a deep sigh.206
“Four months!” I screamed with shock. “Did you say four months? There is no way. How the hell- the average- how long have you been here Tommy?”207
“84 days,” he said in a soft but tactful voice, “But then again- who’s counting.”208
“Lord Jesus!” I yelled. “The average stay is three to six months?”209
“Yup! They don’t call this a residential unit for nothing. If you were only gona be here for a few days or a week- they would put you downstairs on F1.”210
“What is downstairs?” I asked.211
“Downstairs is the acute unit. This is the long term residential unit.”212
I bit my lip in frustration as my eyes wandered around the room as if searching for something. All eyes in the room were focused on me, and I quickly toned down my emotions. 213
After this new bit of information, everything in my mind began to go blank and I began to go insane mentally. I hadn’t thought of the possibility of being in the hospital so long and such a length of time scared me. I had thought I would be in the hospital no longer than a week. I would get a few of my problems straightened and then I’d be out. This news hit me rather hard, and it was difficult to continue and hold myself together as we continued community. My peer’s curious eyes continued to observe me as I sat in the chair sulking in my misery.214
“God,” I moaned. “How could this happen to me?”215
~ ~ ~216
The first week was tough. After I was given the news on the average stay I had grown very quiet about leaving. I never thought about leaving, I never spoke about leaving, and I completely forgot about the outside world- for the time being. Honestly, I thought I would be in a mental institute the rest of my life, and I grew content with the idea that I would never have to return to the world. The world had been stressful- the world had worn me out- and the world was cruel. Of course, I had once missed the world, but I had to come to terms with the truth- I may never enter the outside world again. Thus, I must become comfortable in my space. I began doing odd things in a desperate attempt to block the world from my eyes. I pretended there was no outside world, and in my mind all that existed was the hospital in which I lived. There were no malls, no schools, nothing other then what I had grown to know. It was just my own little world, or at least so I thought. I disregarded most of my family members existence in an attempt to hide from the outside world. I stopped opening letters sent to me. At first I would write people back without reading the letters, but eventually, I would neither write nor read letters I received at the hospital. I became too afraid to confront any part of the world. 217
I also spent the first week learning and getting familiar with the structure. One thing that drove everybody out of their minds was pieces of paper known as point sheets. I would never have thought a piece of paper could hold so much power- but it did- and it was treated like gold. Every hour an employee would tally our points. We received a total of five points based upon how good our behavior was. At the end of the day we would tally up the point sheets and see our score. There were 70 points total. If you had 97% points than you were level three, 94% level two, 90% level one. Each level came with benefits. I wouldn’t have given a damn about the level system, but it was the only way I was allowed to listen to my music. Believe it or not, music was considered a privilege. I use to have the luxury of sitting in my house indulging in whatever music I dare pleased. At my house music wasn’t a privilege but rather a right. How quickly the tables had turned and I found this new idea exhausting and intolerable. I spent a lot of my time speaking of the unfairness, but I learned that you should not waist your breath. I needed to pick my battles- which in this shit hole- I won very few. 218
Another privilege was going to the Café. The Café would bring food up to our floor, but it was absolutely awful food. Thus, if you got a level you were allowed to go to the café and pick something decent to eat from a large verity of food. Although, the point system sounds silly, the patients, including me, grew attached to it. We argued and fought over our points. The first week that I was in the hospital I was in disbelief as to how entirely important the point system was to my peers. I thought it was silly that people could care about a stupid privilege system so much. Some people would act up or start crying if they didn’t get their points. I thought the point system was such a stupid idea, but I myself soon became captive by it. I too began arguing and fighting for points, and I became the very thing that I had pointed and laughed at. In fact, I went to desperate lengths to gain points. I soon learned the art of cheating. If an employee gave me a zero I would sometimes scratch it out and rewrite a point in its place. Nobody ever caught on to my highly illegal point forging. 219
My first week was the worst. I wasn’t eating- I wasn’t eating at all- and at fist nobody was concerned. Yet, after a while, the employee’s and nurses were catching on to my eating or lack there of. When they saw I wasn’t eating it was immediately assumed I had an eating disorder which was, in my opinion, extreme bullshit. I had nothing of the sort. It wasn’t that I didn’t like to eat. Eating is wonderful- it was just that I always felt sick to my stomach. My reluctance to eat was also fueled by the fact that the food was simply disgusting. When a person already feels sick, crappy food doesn’t help. Of course, the food in the cafeteria was better, but I wasn’t allowed to go to the café. I wasn’t good enough- I didn’t earn enough points! The first few days I fell short of making the lowest level. It wasn’t that I was bad, it is just that- well, I was learning. I had to learn new rules, and I had to live my life differently. Everything was odd and new to me. I couldn’t go to the bathroom without permission, we had all our meals at scheduled times, and we went to bed at 9:00. There were so many things I wasn’t use to, and thus, on my first few days the point sheets was a little lacking in points. Yet, even if I had gotten enough points, I still wouldn’t be allowed to go to the café because I was on C.O. C.O. is one of the codes that can be assigned to you. It stands for Close observation. Every thirty minutes an employee had to write notes about me and identify my specific location, and while on C.O. patients are not allowed outside. Thus, even had I obtained a level- I would still not have been allowed to go to the café. So, instead, I hadn’t much choice. I either ate the crappy food or no food. And so I did- I chose no food. I was constantly nagged about having an eating disorder, and it drove me nuts. I thought about eating just to shut them up and that was their very point. The employees harassed, made fun of me, and did everything possible to get me to eat while playing it off as a small deal. However, it wasn’t a small deal, and I couldn’t eat. I just couldn’t eat the awful food! I wasn’t hungry, I felt miserable, and I didn’t want to eat. 220
It wasn’t until the fourth day of not eating that I finally received a visit from Julie the nutritionist. I was called out of my room one morning and brought into the kitchen area where a pretty girl sat with a clipboard. She worse a blue hospital uniform and had her blond hair in a ponytail. Her glasses rested firmly on her nose and she twisted a pen between her thumb and fingers. I was a mess when I first saw her. I was being taken off my Aprozlam, I hadn’t eaten, I was getting use to a new environment, and thus I would sometimes do and say irrational things. At first sight of her my immediate topic of discussion was about my Aprozlam. For some reason I connected her with my medicine, and I began to ramble on about it before she said a single word. Oddly, she sat in her seat politely with what seemed to be a forced but patient smile. She listened as I spoke. 221
When I finally shut my mouth she said in a calm voice, “Max, I am Julie and I am here to talk to you about your eating habits.”222
“My eating habits? My eating habits?” I roared. “I have told everybody that I just don’t feel like eating. What have you got to tell me? They have to call an expert down here to tell me it is not healthy? You really think I don’t know that? I have been hounded everyday by the technicians. 223
“Okay,” she said soothingly. “ But you do realize you will have to eat eventually. Were not going to allow you starve yourself” 224
“Yes, I realize I have to eat to live,” I said mockingly with a little arrogance.225
After mocking her she immediately turned to a more aggressive approach. “If you do not eat we will transport you to another part of the hospital where we will put tubes in you.” 226
In my head I told myself she was being dramatic. “Oh please,” I said harshly. “You honestly think I believe that bull?” It angered me when people so commonly tried to use the “tubes shoved down your throat” in order to make a person eat. I knew it was a bunch of bull meant to scare me, and I thought it was a ruthless tactic. Besides, having tubes in you isn’t really that bad? If I didn’t eat for a very long period of time, I might very well have had food given to me in another method, but it was unlikely. They like to make it sound so dramatic. In my mind I imagined her saying it once more but this time a little different. Her eyebrows lifted, her face gave this sour expression, and she made an awful sound as she squelched out. “Ar, we are going to Shove those tubes, straight down ‘dat damn throat of urs!” So dramatic the nutritionist was! To me it was plainly black and white and I couldn’t see why people didn’t understand what I was saying. I was not eating because I felt bad! Threatening me, while it did make me mad, had no other affect on me. Not that they cared.227
“Give me a break,” I said as I shook my head, and looked into her bright blue eyes. “I am having a lot of stuff going on in my life and I have just lost the urge to eat. Threatening me does not solve anything. It just makes me hate you.” I said solemnly.228
I was sent back to my room after this statement. She wasn’t really mad, or at least I didn’t think she was. But, I guess she had figured it was pointless arguing with me. She would have been right.229
Another day passed without eating. I knew I had to eat sometime, but I honestly just wasn’t the least bit hungry. The employees were getting very worried, but I kind of enjoyed the negative attention.230
On Sunday everybody’s vitals are taken. The Patients’ temperature, blood pressure, pulse, and weight are recorded. This procedure occurs once a week and it is done to everybody. When I was called out of my room to do my vitals I thought nothing of it. I sat down and let them take my blood pressure. They took my pulse, and my temperature. Everything was normal, but then, they had me step onto the scale. I looked at it in shock. I only weighed a 115 pounds! When I first came into the hospital I weighed close to 125 pounds. How could this be? I had them take my weight again to make sure it was right. Sure enough, I weighed 115 pounds. I had lost an astronomical amount of weight, and my mouth hung open in disbelief. I had no idea I was losing so much weight.231
The very day I was weighed, I also began to eat. The food was awful, but I didn’t eat for enjoyment. I considered eating more as a job that I had to do, or rather I did it because I was plain terrified. It had never before occurred to me that I could lose so much weight so quickly, and from that day on I tried to eat something every meal. It wasn’t easy. However, when I first saw how much weight I lost I realized that I was just days away from being transported to another end of the hospital and forced to eat- something I didn’t want to experience. A friend of mine had to have that done and she said it wasn’t something I would enjoy. Go figure.232
Chapter 3233
The BIG Secret234
The first couple weeks were, to be blunt, down right awful. It was a learning period in which I tried to grasp the understanding of the basic rules. I was also forced to grip reality. The fact was that I was in a mental hospital and I had lots of problems. My mind was covered and bogged with clouds of depressed. Nothing in my life seemed to go well. Every night I would talk to my parents on the phone and our conversations always ended up going poorly. This, of course, only added to my turmoil. My frustration was apparent, and being taken off my medicines only added to my pain. Actually, by the end of the first week the doctor had somewhat normalized my medicines. It was evident that I needed them, all of them, but one. The one medicine, which he refused to give me, was the one I wanted the most. I wanted it because it worked, but it was considered addictive, and thus, the doctor thought it was in my best interest not to have it. I couldn’t have disagreed more. I am not addicted?235
Wednesday of my second week I was introduced to another doctor. Apparently the first doctor I saw had not been assigned to me. The first doctor was the only doctor on duty on the day I had arrived and was forced to see me. This new doctor, Dr. Matthews, was my doctor, and I didn’t care for him. I was in my room one afternoon when there was a knock on my door. The door rattled as it opened and in popped a casually dressed man, with glasses on his forehead, and a book bag on his back. 236
“Yes?” I asked with great curiosity. Santa? I thought to myself. I always had the strangest thoughts going through my head. 237
“Hey Max,” he said with a smile. “Can you come with me? I am gona be your doctor. My names doctor Matthews.” He was an interesting fellow just to look at. He wore plain clothes unlike the first doctor. The first doctor wore a spiffy suit, but this doctor- he dressed casually. He had an interesting face with chubby rosy cheeks that reminded me of- I say once more- Santa clause. The hair on his head was an unruly colored gray with spots of black. 238
“What? What?” I said. “But you aren’t my doctor. I saw another doctor the first night I arrived here.” 239
“Ya, I know, but guess what,” he paused dramatically and continued, “You are stuck with me. I’m gona be your doctor! Haha!” he spoke sarcastically as he smiled playfully at me. “Can you come with me?” 240
“Not like I have anywhere else to go,” I muttered scornfully as I got up and followed him. His eyes caught mine and I gave him a look filled with hatred. He ignored my body language and led me down the hall into his office but I knew he picked up my vibe. His body language was playful but his eyes were filled with wisdom.241
I sat down on the couch and bowed my head in misery. He seemed to be a nice man, and he was simply trying to enlighten the mood, and I knew this. But, I couldn’t help but try to expand my misery to engulf all of which I saw. I wasn’t intentionally trying to be mean, but I felt so bad, I just couldn’t help it. He talked with joy in his voice. He seemed so happy, and oddly- this truly bothered me. I suppose it bothered me that other people could be so happy.242
“So how are you doing? ” he asked calmly. 243
“How am I doing?” I yelled at first and then reiterated the sentence with a sob. “I don’t like it here! I feel awful! I want to die! Please give me back my Aprozlam.” Once more- I am not addicted- right-? Obviously, I did not try to make my attachment to medicines sublet. Although, they had already told me I wasn’t getting it back and my medicines were going to remain how they now were, I still felt it my duty to argue and to continue to push the issue.244
“Okay, stop being dramatic,” The doctor said as he looked at me for the first time in frustration.245
“For Christ sakes! Stop being dramatic? I am in a hospital and that is what you tell me? That is what you tell me! What the hell! Don’t I have the right to be dramatic and I am not really being dramatic anyways. I am expressing how I feel.”246
“Out!” he interrupted with a yell.247
“What?” I asked. I was taken by surprise.248
“Out! I won’t listen to your drama. If you want my help you will have to talk to me normally. I won’t listen to you be so rude and dramatic. Perhaps next time you will act differently.”249
“What! What?” I asked. “I am just telling you how I feel,” I explained. “Perhaps I’m a little dramatic but God damnit, give me a break. Damn you!” Doctor Matthews stood up and opened the door.250
“Comon, go back to your room.” He said as he regained his composer, and returned back into the calm man he had first appeared to be. Tears ran down my face as I obeyed. I hated him. I wished to kick or punch him right in the face, but I held back the temptation. Instead, I went to my room where I continued to wet my face with tears. I hadn’t spent five minutes in his office and he had already kicked me out. It wasn’t right. He shouldn’t be allowed to do that, and I knew my dad would have been mad. Yet, my dad couldn’t do anything now. Here I was, at the mercy of others. I could not do anything at all but obey their wishes. Obeying was the only way I could get treatment. I must not be stubborn. There were so many things I needed to tell my doctor. I was feeling anxious and my stomach was killing me from my anxiety. Whenever I was anxious it caused my stomach to convulse and throb with pain. I was also having a problem sleeping and I greatly hoped he would increase my Remeron to help me sleep better. Sleep was the most important part of my life. I hated my life so much and sleep was the only relief I got. I felt it was simply barbaric to rob me of my sleep. But now, now, I hadn’t the chance to tell him anything, and all because he thought I was being dramatic. Life just isn’t fair!251
After my first meeting with Doctor Matthews I began writing madly in my journal. I thoroughly hated him, and I wished him to hell. He had refused to help me because I was being dramatic! I was in so much pain and he refused to help me! I was very angry and I began to devise a plan to have him removed from his position. For several hours I began to carefully write Doctor Matthews a letter, which should get his attention. I worked on the letter for several days and I rewrote it three times until it was absolutely perfect. Yet, I couldn’t give the letter to him yet, no- it was to soon. Instead, I placed it beneath my bed and would wait for the perfect time. I would let him know my true feelings, but all in due time! 252
In addition to having a new doctor I also got to meet my therapist, Ms. Davis. I was unimpressed when I first saw her. She dressed normally, had long blond hair, with a skinny body and rather dull eyes. She didn’t wear much jewelry, and she was very plain to the eyes. Yet, her outward dullness was merely a disguise because within those eyes of hers rested the great talent of an awesomely omniscient therapist. 253
“So why are you in the hospital?” Ms. Davis asked me after she introduced herself. We were in her small office that was cluttered with junk. Walmart bags lay on the floor that I tried not to look at, papers covered her desk, and books were in the chairs. I had to move stuff just to sit down. I hadn’t a clue how she could work in such an environment. 254
“Please don’t mind the messiness,” she said as she adjusted her chair to face me. “How are you?”255
I looked into her eyes and tried not to make any facial expression. She was studying me, and I refused to reveal how I felt through my outward appearance. Therapists are very sharp and are trained in human behavior. Every action I made, every thing I said- it was all closely analyzed and looked at beneath a magnified glass. I have met many therapist who I thought should sell their magnifying glass, buy a red blazer and get their realistate license- but no- not her. I sat in my seat with absolutely no expression and this apparently amused her. She gave a light chuckle and smiled. 256
“Are you doing okay?” she asked. Her voice was very smooth and somewhat comforting. 257
This was the first time I didn’t responded aggressively about my Aprozlam. I was still upset about it, but I lost a lot of my steam. Usually I would argue about Aprozlam until I dropped dead but not now. I felt it was useless, and didn’t feel like talking about it. Instead I just looked at her and responded, “I feel depressed. I guess I truly wish to kill myself if only I did not fear death- but I suppose I could do it- just can’t think to much about it,” I said with a slight eerie smile258
She remained calm as she looked at me. “Do you think you might harm yourself?”259
“I don’t know,” I said honestly as I shook my head in annoyance. I hated when people asked me that question. “My point is that I feel like shit.” It seems often I’m screaming, I’m clawing at people for help- and yet they see what is not there.260
There was a brief moment of silence and Ms. Davis brought up a new subject. “Max, do you know why you are?”261
I thought a moment and then responded, “Yes.” Truth is- I had spent a good while already in the hospital but never admitting why I was there. 262
“And- would you like to share it with me?263
I sighed heavily. And yet, she knew perfectly well why I was here so why must I repeat it? She merely wished to make sure I was on the same page as her. I obliged her and spoke, “The main thing that got me here was the dependence on my medicines, particularly, Lorazapam. I am also severely anxious, depressed and God knows what other problems I have.”264
“Okay,” Ms. Davis said in agreement. 265
“Oh, and also, I haven’t a very good relationship with my parents,” I added.266
“So, what do you plan to do with your time here?” she asked.267
“Not to mention,” I continued on in my thoughts, “I am very unhappy person with lots of- um what’s that? What do I plan to do with my time?”268
I thought for a long moment. The question had never struck me before, and I debated on what to say. 269
“I wish to overcome my problems with drugs. I am addicted to prescription Aprazlom, and I drink too much. I also wish to improve the relationship I have with my parents.” I paused and began again, “But, I don’t think the Aprozlam harmed me if you want to know the honest truth.”270
“I know,” she smiled. 271
“I think the Aprozlam helped me and I’ll be damned if you think you can take me off of it,” I was getting worked up on the subject, and she indulged my need to argue. “The second I get out of the hospital I’m getting a prescription for it! Hah” I yelled in triumph. I hadn’t planned on talking about Aprazlom but when she opened the door I couldn’t resist it!272
“Well, if you are just going to get back on Xanax when you leave this hospital we just might never let you out. How does that sound?” Ms. Davis spoke with a tone of mischief. 273
“Oh, I’m sure you could do that. Please, I’m not stupid. You cannot fool me. Both you and I know I can’t be kept in here for long.” Although, I said this with confidence, I honestly did not believe a word of which I was saying. I believed I would be in a mental hospital until the day I died. Yet, I spoke with determination and she believed what I said, or at least she believed that I believed what I said. She thought I was truly confident in what I said. Yet, I was bluffing, but she believed me and that was all that that mattered! 274
The reason I defied the rules and authority was simply because I wanted control over my life. I wanted to have control over my doctors, my medicine, and my health. I wished to control every aspect of my life. Give me a break, I mean, most people enjoy being in control of their lives. People like being in control of things. It makes them feel secure, more powerful, and it sometimes gives an irrational since of satisfaction. I wasn’t trying to mean to Ms. Davis. I just wanted her to understand that she wasn’t in control of my life. I controlled everything!275
~ ~ ~276
At first I tried desperately to hide my arrogance, and my problems. I greatly feared that nobody would like me if they knew the true me. Yet, I discovered something very interesting. People liked me the most when I was myself. Yes, I had a few problems and said some things that ticked people off, but overall people liked my attitude, the way I thought, and the way I acted. The fears that nobody would like me seemed to dwindle into a hollowed illusions and misconceptions. Loved ones loved me, and they liked me for who I was. I shouldn’t have wasted all my time worrying about what people would think. Yes, at first I tried to hide my personality, but it was difficult to do and it eventually and ultimately showed through. Yet, as people got to know and saw whom I really was, they liked me all the better.277
I did have a bit of a problem with Jeff at first but that died down after a while. I remember one day Jeff looked at me shook his head. “Damnit Max,” he said. “Your so damn arrogant, but I like you.” As he said that I smiled. I was very impressed that he knew what the word arrogant meant, but more importantly he liked me for me. (although, I did not share how surprised I was by his intellect) This was a very satisfying moment when I became aware that people could like my personality. Jeff and I eventually became very good friends.278
Another kid, Tevis, was a bit odd, but he grew to like me. Tevis was a cute muscular kid with bright blue eyes and very proportional face. He was average height and very energetic. But there was one odd thing about him. He never allowed anybody to touch him. One of our rules was no touching each other. We were to respect something called, “boundaries.” This meant respecting each other’s space, and bottom line, no touching each other. Of course, at first I was a little rough with following this rule. Yet, I quickly saw why it was in place. I touched Tevis one day to get his attention and he began yelling at me. “Don’t touch!” He screamed. You might have thought I had shot him. This taught me a lesson, and I later found out he was sexually abused. His memories were still with him and the hands of a stranger rejuvenated these old and painful memories. I scolded myself for my ignorance.279
Yet, Tevis also displayed his friendship in a very odd way. One day we all went outside to play volleyball and Tevis would come up to me and start cuss. And all the while he would jump up and down in a threatening manner but at the same time, he would smile wildly. I remarked, “Why the hell do you hate me so much Tevis?” He looked at me and laughed. “I like you Max. I like you.” I was amazed and happy at my social success. But what truly fascinated me was the way that a person can display love. It can occur in many different ways, many ways a person never suspects, and it was an eye opening experience!280
The girls also became my friends but one girl was a little off the mark with me. She seemed to be attracted to me. I am not anybody special- I do not know why she liked me. I guessed that a lot of people always liked me because I don’t mind listening to the problems they have and this girl had many. However, this attraction brought up a big issue with me. It happened one morning when she was going to get her blood taken. She at first refused but she was reluctantly talked into it. I ate my breakfast as I looked at her. I hated needles and squirmed as if the needle were meant for me. Yet, as she was stuck with the needle Ashley yelled at the top of her lungs, “I love you Max!” I looked at her in bewilderment as she stared back at me with beady eyes and dirty hair. There was a patch of dry saliva at the side her mouth and eyes glared into mine. Ms. Olivia was working at the time and I remember looking at Ms. Olivia. Ms. Olivia gave Ashley a weird look that said, “Oh my God!” and I couldn’t help but laugh. Yet, I quickly got hold of my demeanor.281
“What did you say?” I asked. She did not respond282
“Just eat your breakfast,” Ms. Olivia responded quickly. However, you must understand that this girl had severe problems. I don’t think she knew what love was nor did she mean it. Doing good deeds for some people can often be misinterpreted for different emotions among people who have been hurt. 283
Yes, sir, the guys loved me, the girls loved me, I was living it big! Hah- no life wasn’t really grand but at least I was getting along with people. At least I made friends with them and nobody hated me. This was very important because it meant I could still function among others. I was extremely satisfied with myself, and having friends made life in the hospital a little easier. Yet, one thing still was in the back of my mind, what about my big secret?284
I did well for myself, and before long, I grew content with my position. I wasn’t happy – no – never happy, but I was grateful that I could be miserable with others. Together, as a big group we were all miserable. Initially, I had been so worried that I would be disliked but everything turned out all right. It was a valuable lesson.285
~ ~ ~286
“Process group,” Ms. Sue yelled into the hallway. We obediently exited our rooms and followed her to the dayroom where we sat down on the couches. Process group was an hour-long group held each day. The social worker, Ms. Sue, led the group, and we met five times a week to encounter our problems with the support of other group members. Ms. Sue would mediate, and rationalize with people, but the entire goal was to get the patients to receive support and understand their problems. 287
“Max, what are you like that for?” Ms. Sue asked as she closed the dayroom door and sat down in a chair.288
“Mam?” I asked quite puzzled. 289
“Max you know what I am talking about,” Ms. Sue said as she gazed around the room. I loved to watch her eyes wander about the room as she assessed everybody’s moods. 290
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean,” I said as respectably as possible. I honestly had no idea what she was talking about and I was greatly trying to appease her. 291
“Well, you are just sitting there with those eyes. You look depressed,” she said rubbing her chin. She had a short haircut and wore a dress with flowers on it. It was a beautiful dress but it didn’t quite match her personality- not that anybody sits in front of a mirror asking “This dress goes with everything but doesn’t match my personality…..” 292
“I guess I am depressed,” I said with a deep sigh.293
“Would you like to share what you talked to your dad on the phone about?” She asked as her eyes lit up and she rubbed her chin once again. She had an annoying habbit of rubbing her chin when she was thinking. I knew she was dying for me to ask, how she knew about my phone conversation. She liked to shock and surprise people and for some reason this gives her a great deal of satisfaction. Quite frankly I had no idea how she knew about it.294
“What? How do you know-” I began but she interrupted me.295
“Ms. Davis told me,” Ms. Sue explained296
Ms. Sue was actually the adolescent therapist and was suppose to be my therapist instead of Ms. Davis, but when I came into the hospital she had to many patients. Thus, Ms. Davis decided to help her out and she took my case. I liked Ms. Davis a lot, and every day in process group I praised the lord that Ms. Sue wasn’t my therapist. Ms. Sue was a tough woman who would be as blunt and quick as possible when encountering problems. Yet, I didn’t like this approach. I was nothing more than a little schoolgirl, and her tactic scared the crap out of me. Don’t get me wrong; Ms. Sue is an awesome person. I had never seen a counselor so to the point, but she just wasn’t for me. I needed somebody a little more stable. Ms. Sue had a habit of getting her emotions entangled with her patients and this could create big problems. Some days, when we did process group, she was in a bad mood, and would let us further influence her emotions by taking our words personally. I found it quite ironic that she wanted people to think good things about her, but at the same time, she was such a bitch. Usually being a bitch doesn’t help oneself in gaining friends. ‘Fuck Ms. Sue’ is written all over the control room walls.297
“Ms. Davis told you?” I repeated, “But, I didn’t talk to Ms. Davis,” I said in confusion.298
“Your dad called and told Ms. Davis what you had said,” Ms. Sue explained as she examined her fingernails. “Would you like to share with the group what you told your father?”299
I really didn’t want to share anything with the group. “No, I really don’t want to tell them.”300
Ms. Sue shot me a sharp look. “You don’t?” she asked dramatically, but before she could continue I changed my mind and began.301
“Okay, okay!” I cried out. “I was begging my dad to let me come home.”302
“And what did you say to him?” Ms. Sue asked probing further. I looked around the room at all the eyes staring at me. Everybody was paying attention to my every move and word. 303
“I told him I would hate him if he left me in this hospital,” I confessed as I bent my head down in grief.304
“That’s right, that’s right!” Ms. Sue cried as she looked around at the group and nodded her head. “I’m thinking you probably shouldn’t be allowed to talk to your parents.” I didn’t respond to this. Honestly, I couldn’t have cared less if they forbid me to talk to my parents. My parents at the time were being very difficult. Traditionally, many of the kids were restricted from talking to their parents when they were bad. Most of them loved their parents with all the heart, but at the time I didn’t seem to get that they would do anything to have the affection returned. Many of the kids there were placed in by the state and hadn’t any parents to talk to. Me, however, well lets just say, I didn’t have that luxury. One might think I was ungrateful. I’m not- am I?305
Process groups continued in that order throughout my entire stay. Many times she would make people cry and sometimes people were sent to the control room. The control room was where people went when they got angry. It was a bare room with heavy metal doors that could be locked. People who were violent were sometimes locked in the control rooms until they relaxed. Sometimes people were tied down to keep them from injuring themselves. A lot of the behavioral problems originated in process group. I guess this was because it was in this group that we encountered many of our fears and problems. It can be very painful when encountering one’s own problems. Yet, I also think Ms. Sue’s approach created some trouble. She loved the drama.306
One of most memorable groups came when Cody confessed something. Cody was a short chubby twelve-year-old and came from a broken house. He sought attention more than any kid I had ever seen. He would harm himself to get peoples attention! Our rooms have furniture that is bolted to the wall. Cody managed to unbolt his dresser and throw it into the wall. This resulted in a giant hole in the wall and when it occurred, the entire building shook as the furniture fell. At the same time he managed to shatter the light bulb at the top of ceiling. How he did this I do not know, because it is incased in plastic. Yet, he did this all for attention. He was an odd little kid who just couldn’t get enough of it. One of the most fascinating things about him was that he was completely honest. When Ms. Sue asked him why he broke his light and knocked over his dresser, he calmly remarked, “I wanted the attention.”307
One day Cody was talking about his mom. This occurred in my third week, and I still remember the event quite well.308
“My mom doesn’t love me. She always drinks alcohol. She is always drunk and she won’t change,” Cody began in desperation.309
“Cody,” Ms. Sue began sternly, “Your mom has her problems and it may be time to learn to accept them. I am very sorry that she is doing this, but I’m really not sure if she will change.310
Cody let out a sob and continued, “It is all my fault that I am in here now! I got hurt and she had to take me to the emergency room. She was drunk when she took me and when the doctors saw her they took me away. 311
“Cody you weren’t behaving inappropriately. It was best that you were removed from that environment.”312
There was a pause and then Ms. Sue asked, “Can anybody relate?” People who had similar stories would raise their hand and share. This was an attempt to show that we all had similar issues. Relating to people with similar stories helped comfort people.313
Jeff raised his hand and said, “Cody, I know how you feel. My mom was always drinking. Man, all she did was drink. She didn’t care about me and my dad also drank a lot. One time my dad got so damn drunk that he held a gun to his head and threatened to kill himself.” Jeff’s voice began to get high pitched as he desperately tried not to cry and struggled to hold himself together. Yet, it was quite evident that this story was refreshing some very painful memories. Jeff bent his head in silence and allowed a tear to trickle down the side of his face.314
It was at this awkward moment that I realized something. I realized just how lucky I was. As I looked around the room and all the different kids I began to see that they didn’t have what I had. Many didn’t have two loving parents. They didn’t have brother and sisters who cared about them nor did they come from a well off family. For the first time since I arrived at the hospital, I felt lucky. Yet, while I felt this feeling surge through me a dark depression still hung when I realized these people would never have what I would so willingly throw away.315
Although, I felt surge of luck run through my body, sadly, it did not make me happy. I was in a slump of depression and had I would of won the lottery I wouldn’t have given a damn. I was lucky yes, but never did I show any ounce of appreciation. However, I can now clearly see just how lucky I am and I am very appreciative. At the time I was just too depressed to have given a damn.316
Cody was brave to tell such a personal story, and it inspired me to share my big secret. I decided that I had withheld it long enough and it was time that I share it. The next day Ms. Sue called process group and I took my seat on the couch. My hands were sweaty and my heart pounded in anxiety. My big secret didn’t really have to be a huge deal. Everything depended on how people would react to the news. Everyone could scream and yell and I would be completely miserable, or they could just shake their heads in acceptance. Yet, I had yet to know which of these two extremes would occur. I guess I was really nervous because I was afraid of what people would think. I had worked so hard to get people’s acceptance, and I had done so well. It would be unfortunate for this to destroy my relationships, but I felt I needed to share. I needed to be honest, and I wished to get this secret off my shoulders. 317
The room was quiet as Ms. Sue took her seat. She looked up at my anxious face, and I knew she was reading me. I hated it. 318
“Max, what is wrong?” Ms. Sue asked as she adjusted herself in the chair.319
“Um, well, it is funny that you said something. I was just - well – I had something I mean I have something to share. I’m just a little nervous about saying it- that is all. But I think I need to tell people. I just have to get this off my shoulders. 320
“Yes?” Ms. Sue asked. “Would you like to tell us? You have our attention.” Indeed, I had everybody’s attention. All the kids in the room looked at me attentively. Usually several of the kids would lay their heads on the sofa and sleep, but not now. No, nobody was dozing off; they were all paying close attention to me. I knew I looked nervous as hell. 321
“Well,” I began, “I am just a little different from most people. I feel I need to share this with people because it is an important fact and people need to know it. What I’m trying to say is that I am a homosexual.” As that word came out of my mouth, I looked at the ground in guilt. There was nothing to feel guilty about but I did.” There was a moment of painful silence, which I broke; “I just wanted to share this with you. It is an important thing because it greatly affects my life. It also creates a lot of trouble for me and I hope to have everyone’s support in helping overcoming these troubles. The world is not very kind to me, but I hope you guys can understand what I am trying to say.” At this time my brain was jumping frantically around. I was sure that they were all extremely disgusted. I felt everybody was against me. They were all so ignorant and stupid. How did I expect them to understand? I feared they were disgusted thus I continued and tried to shower some empathy on myself. “People always characterize me as gay and nobody sees me for me. I am person. I have a personality and I don’t want people to like me or hate me because I am gay. I want people to say Max is a real cool funny guy.” I paused a moment and looked at the ground hopelessly. Tears formed in my eyes as I desperately tried to hold them back.322
“Max,” Jeff said, “It isn’t that big of a secret. It is kinda obvious.”323
“Ya,” Tommy said as he laughed to himself.324
I looked at them for the first time and asked, “You guessed that I was gay?”325
“Well ya Max. You kinda act gay, no offense.” Tommy said. I looked at him and smiled.326
“So you don’t hate me?” I asked327
“No, Tommy said. Should I?”328
“I’m very happy, I said. I paused for a moment and then asked, “Does anybody hate me? There was a united answer, “no.” Nobody cared and nobody was going 329
to judge me because I was a homosexual. This was very significant moment for me because I knew they truly accepted me. Yet, it was also significant because they could tell I was gay before I told them, but they liked me anyways. Even when they thought I was a homosexual they still talked to me, they still liked me, and they still befriended me. It hadn’t altered their opinion on me, and this made me happier than I had been in a long time. People liked me for me.330
After revealing this information I was surprised when nearly everybody confronted me privately. When the workers weren’t listening and the kids were preoccupied people would come up to me and whisper in their ear that they too were gay. Out of seven kids, four approached me to tell me that they were gay. I hated it when they secretly told me this information because I didn’t want to hold their secrets. Secrets can make a person weary.331
Cody told me he was gay and I believed him. I hadn’t any reason to think otherwise. However, Cody and I were holding a conversation and when I mentioned that he liked men he got really offended. 332
“I don’t like men!” he yelled in surprise333
“I thought you said you were gay,” I laughed nervously.334
“Gay means I like men?” he asked. I looked at him and shaking my head I laughed.335
He was the only kid that didn’t know what the word gay meant. Everybody else understood it’s meaning, but they were under another illusion. Many of them thought they were gay because they had been sexually abused. Most just didn’t understand what gay meant.336
What was important was that everybody accepted me for me. Everybody liked me for me. I need not act like somebody else. People like me just the way I was. And, as for my big secret, well, it turned out not to be so big. After I got the secret off my chest I was able to go to sleep with my mind a little more at ease. 337
Chapter 4338
The Great Escape339
A Drink Or Two… or Three or Four340
I lay on the ground in this bar,341
And I can see stars,342
And I had a drink or two,343
Who keeps count?344
My money speaks well345
Yet who could tell,346
who knew,347
My life would be so screwed,348
So screwed up349
And I lie there,350
Not a single care,351
And heaven it should be,352
For I do not see,353
My perspired body on the floor,354
My bloody leg- my ankle sore,355
But my money speaks well,356
And so to hell,357
To hell with them all,358
If I wish to fall,359
Down in the corner of the bar,360
In this corner dark and far,361
Away from life,362
Away From living,363
Away from giving a damn,364
Than it shall be so.365
This poem was frequently on my mind. Whether I liked it because it’s meaning pertained to my life, or I simply liked the way it sounded, I am not sure. Either way I found the poem to be a haunting reflection of my life. It also relates to how I was dealing with my problems. No matter how ill I was with my own problems, I frequently cast them aside as I dealt and consumed myself in other issues. My anxiety was still bad and being taken off the medicine didn’t help. I was in the hospital to get control of my life. I needed to realize the medicine was not the answer. There were coping skills to deal with my anxiety. However, that was all bullshit to me. In addition, my depression wasn’t getting much better. I would often have session with Ms. Davis and we talked about everything and she made me keep a journal. There was one thing, however, that both her and I had decided was a problem and did add to the stress and depression in my life. I am talking about my parents. My parents loved me so much. However, they were just like any other parent- they had flaws in their logic- flaws in their parenting- flaws in themselves. Unlike most children I wasn’t able to handle them well and so are phone calls often left me depressed. Many times when they called I would just tell the nurse I didn’t want to speak to them. Yes, they added a great deal of stress. However, what created the most stress in my life was my inability to cope and handle things. I liked to push everything to the side. Nevertheless, through more sessions with my doctor and counselor I was sure I would straighten out my problems. This was actually an important time in my life because I realized why I was really in the hospital. Yes, it was because I was overly depressed and anxious, had medicine issues, but most importantly I was sent th……-ere to save my life. I was acting reckless and it was bound to ruin my life if I continued on that path taking that type of medicine I did, hanging out with the type of people I chose- simply to ease my depression. The problem was that I had poor coping skills- I did not know how to deal with society and thus, I was driven to be me- a sad- scared kid- that did not know how to deal with his frustration. All of this needed change, and that is what the hospital was there for but deep down, I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to change. Whether I wanted to go that extra mile and change- well things are so much easier said then done.366
~ ~ ~367
I frequently carry the burdens of other people and ignore my own pain and suffering. Focusing on other people’s issues is a nice distraction. I knew I would have to eventually face my problems-eventually, but I just was not ready to face the truth quite yet. I just wanted to- shall we say- dance a little longer.368
Another reason I liked to focus on others is because I saw hope in other people. I saw hope in my peers. I believed many of them could have a bright and successful future if they just played their cards’ right. As for me, I had no hope in myself, and thus I thought it pointless to metal around with my treatment issues. I was growing more and more depressed and I was beginning to lose all my hope. And, when I felt bad I never wanted to talk about it. Often times Ms. Sue would call me over and I would have sessions to try and target my pain, but for the most part they were unsuccessful. I continued to avoid all my problems. 369
Everyday we had to spend one hour in our rooms writing about our treatment issues. I spent a lot of this time avoiding these issues by writing about everything but myself. I would often spend thirty minutes writing and focusing on some trivial event, which happened that day. But I rarely wrote or thought about myself- about my feelings- about my treatment. Once more, I was avoiding things. I was trying to avoid my depression and anxiety. I was trying to avoid the things that would hurt me. Yet, ironically, that of which I avoided could be the very key in helping me feel better- in getting me out of the hospital. I just couldn’t see it and if I did, I cleverly pushed it aside.370
On such a day I was in my room- avoiding my problems- and I began thinking about the letter my grandfather wrote me. I hadn’t read it because it was part of my conspiracy to block out the world. I thought and I thought and finally I decided to give the letter a look. I began to read it. Before long I was in tears because I thought it was so beautiful. I was quite happy to receive his support. It read:371
Dec. 10, 2002372
Dear Max,373
My thoughts and hopes are constantly with you. Sometimes I think “hope” is the most valuable of human gifts. For sure, hope is not something we can buy in a department store. But, it is not free either, for when the really raging trials are set in, it requires great investment of determination and faith in one’s self to overcome. The well-spring of trust for a bright future is altogether embedded in one’s self, comes from within, a personal courage to overcome life’s adversities or challenges. It means, simply put, “I will not be conquered!- - not by the devils that prowl about and haunt and taunt me.”374
Now you face such a daunting challenge. This illness is not of your doing, nor that of any of those who love and care so deeply for you. Maybe you think nature is unfair, and indeed maybe it is unfair. And that may make you angry. But fair or unfair, this is the way it is, fury and resentment will not help. But resolve will.375
Rough as times are right now, this does not mean defeat, by any means. Yes, I do understand that this is a tough battle you face, but I have also seen for myself the brightness, resourcefulness and bounce that is yours. IN its way, this is nature’s gift for you. You have resources, both within you and from your family, as well as from the professionals who are your partners. You have to believe in something. That “something can either be good or bad. I encourage you so strongly to believe in the good, in yourself, and also, to believe in and trust all those who dearly want you to heal and to get on with a wonderful life of opportunity, achievements, and happiness. All those things are waiting for you, my grandson. You must, I implore you, to believe that, and to reach out and grab the chance. You can and will succeed to build your own new world.376
Max, I am among those who deeply love you, as do all in your family. We are constantly on your side- - and by grace of the fates, you will prosper. I can’t give you the formula for success; but I can give you the formula for failure, and that is to give up.377
I’ll close this letter with my usual refrain: Max, I love you and I believe in you. If this is the Winter, it can only mean that Spring is on its way.378
Grandpa.379
My eyes ate up the words of the first letter. I picked it up and held it close to my chest and cried for a while. Then looking at all the other letters I had so foolishly left unopened I shook my head. It was here that I realized the world would exist with or without my sunglasses on, and so I began to open more. By not opening the letters I had attempted to block out the world. Yet, the truth was the world existed no matter how much I didn’t want to acknowledge it. Refusing to look at letters from my family did not make the world go away. My family supported me and reading the letters truly ensured this. I need not hide from my family- the only thing I had left. I talked to one of my friends in the hospital and I told him of my difficulties in opening letters from my family. He informed me he would slap me if he had written me and I hadn’t bothered to read his letter of support. I thought he was a bit harsh, but I got his point. I began to open most of the letters and I even read them. Most were quite heartbreaking. The letters of support meant a lot to me. And even if I didn’t open the letter, knowing that a family member spent time writing to me, was support enough.380
Everybody wrote inspirational letters, but my grandfather has a way with words and I found many of his letters remarkable and inspirational. This following letter is another, which he wrote, and it also happens to be my favorite letter. I had received it a couple weeks ago but I refused to open it. Yet, when I finally did open it, I was extremely pleased.381
Dec. 1, 2002382
Dear Max,383
This road we all travel, called “life”, has so many twists and turns, to say nothing of bumps along the way. In the journey through life there are some really fine, wonderful moments and accomplishments and some events, like illnesses, that set us back for a while. But, as I reflect on my own being and those of others in our family, in all, it is a pretty darned good adventure. To hope, to dream, to envision a splendid future, to love, to be loved, and to care - -these are the really meaningful milestones that describe a life well lived and make it all so rewarding.384
Right now you have hit one of those life-bumps, as we all do. When that happens, it is usually the case that we must dig down deep into our own internal resources to overcome difficulty. Oh, to be sure we often do need help to surmount problems. Sometimes the difficulty we face is just too great to solve by ourselves. Yet, it is also true that without a strong resolve of our own, the help we need and obtain from others can do so much, can only go so far. For, it is the case that each of us must genuinely want to overcome the obstacle.385
This is why I plead and urge you to cooperate to your fullest extent with the staff and professionals in the hospital. You may not always agree with them, or you may sometimes feel that you don’t need or want their help. But please remember, Max, they are there to help you and that they do know why they are doing. They are experts and they want very much for you to get over your illness so that you can get on with your life.386
You have so much to contribute to this world. You are bright and talented. Over the years I have seen what you can do when you put your mind and soul into your striving. I think for instance, of your extraordinary scientific experiments with ants and squirrels, of your writing poetry and prose, of your extensive reading of difficult subjects, your love of books, of your long discussions of the work of philosophers and scientists, your talents in making things, and so much else.387
Max I do so much admire you. But more than that, much more than that, I love you—always have and always will.388
Please work hard with the people in the hospital. They are your partners in your quest to become well and whole again. Work, too, with your mother and father for they have no greater loving desire than for you to become all the wonderful things of which you are capable. You have a lot of love and help on your side.389
Take care, my grandson.390
Grandpa.391
My family truly loved and cared about me. Up until this point I wasn’t sure what my family thought of me. Yet, these letters showed me they were backing and supporting me a 100%, and it helped me feel better. Until that point I hadn’t realized to what a great extent they cared.392
At this point in my hospitalization I felt extremely hopeless. Depression had set upon me like a heavy fog. Everything I thought about and did was covered in this cloud of depression. I truly was sick of life and death no longer scared me. Thus, when the letters were read by my eager eyes- they were indeed, a needed lifesaver. 393
~ ~ ~394
In the first week of December I saw one of the most horrifying things I had ever seen in my life. One of the girls on the unit was refusing to cooperate and caused an incident.395
Ashley had to get her blood taken but she was refusing. Everybody was eating breakfast in the kitchen and we watched as she folded her body and collapsed upon the ground.396
“You can’t make me!” she yelled. “Leave me alone,” she wailed. “Leave me alone!” She lay on the ground throwing her arms back and fourth as she refused to obey.397
Ms. Olivia was working that day and she instructed everybody to go to his or her room that is everybody but me. You see, I was required to remain within sight after every meal. The employees were afraid I was bulimic and they wanted to watch me after I had eaten. Doctor Matthews wrote an order stating that I must not be allowed out of eyesight one hour after meals. I wasn’t even allowed to go to the bathroom without being watched.398
Everybody went to their rooms while I sat contently eating my breakfast and watching the show Ashley was putting on. The hospitals loud speakers turned on, “Code three, F3, Code three, F3.” They were calling a code. When a code is called all the extra staff from all the other floors and other buildings rush to our unit. Extra fifteen personnel usually arrive within five minutes and sometimes the cops come. These people try to stabilize the unit by dealing with whoever was acting up. In this case it was Ashley. She still lay on the floor as the code echoed throughout the kitchen. Before long an entire team had assembled on our unit and they tried to physically force Ashley to obey. There were about 16 workers from other units on our floor. Many of the personal were extremely big men, and I watched as they tried to control the situation. Ashley refused to cooperate as she thrust her head around violently. Her hair was a mess and dirty. It was mopping across the hospital floor as she threw her fit. I watched eagerly as the action unfolded in front of my eyes. Finally, four men pinned her on the ground while another grabbed her arms and forced them behind her back.399
“You’re breaking my arms! Stop, it hurts! It hurts,” she screamed. I watched startled by the sudden aggression. The team of men then lifted her into the air while she screamed and they started carrying her into the control room. Yet, they couldn’t gain control of her body and she fell from their hands, hitting the ground. Her head made a loud thud as it slammed into the floor. The employees lifted her back into the air and continued on, to the control room, around the corner and out of my sight. At this point tears were in my eyes. I didn’t understand why, why they had to do that. Before long I was crying. For some reason I hadn’t expected to see such aggression and it startled me to the point of tears. They hurt her, and it seemed cruel. Ms. Oliva noticed me and came to sit down at my table. She had a solemn look on her gentle face.400
“Why did you do that to her,” I asked Ms. Olivia.401
“Honey, we couldn’t do anything else. She refused to follow instructions and it is our job to make her obey.”402
“But do they have to hurt her? Did you have to make her yell?” I raged as I rubbed my teary eyes403
“Max, we hadn’t a choice. She could have hurt somebody if we didn’t control her. I know it is sad but that is what we have to do. It is all we can do.” Ms. Olivia looked at me with sad eyes. I could tell it bothered her. She didn’t like it anymore than I did. 404
This occurrence rested heavily with me and every time I saw Ashley I thought about it. I guess it was just a little bothering- and an eye opener. You have to cooperate with the rules and those who don’t- they shall be reprimanded. 405
Ashley’s acting out was probably the most exciting part of the fourth week. If exciting is really an appropriate word. Yes, it was quite exciting, but also quite disturbing, and very sad. I hated this place. However, there was one other thing going on. That is why I was planning a Great Escape.406
~ ~ ~407
I had grown pretty comfortable and was creating some pretty interesting relationships. I became good friends with Tevis. He was an extraordinary person who was surprisingly intelligent, and I really saw a bright future for him. I would often play him in chess. He was the only person on the unit other than myself who knew how to play. Apparently, he first learned how to play chess in jail. I would look at him and my entire heart would ache in pain. Before my eyes stood a strong good-looking guy with a bright head, a warm personality, and a sweat sense of humor. All of this was being hampered because of the life he was brought up in. His problems were not of his own doing. Tevis had an anger problem and he would sometimes get violent with people. He would threaten lots of people, but me, he didn’t bother me. Him and I got along well. His room was right next door to mine and we would often hold conversation between our walls. The walls were pretty thin, and sometimes we could hold ten-minute conversations. (you leave Tevis here these 3 paragraphs are very disordered fix it!)408
Two patients had left. Lauren and Ashley had both gone home, but because I didn’t know either of them, it wasn’t a big deal for me. Yet, I found it odd that Lauren was released. She was doing absolutely awful, and quite frankly, I think she was released because she was too sick to be helped. I would sometimes talk to her, and she would look back at me with her beady brown eyes, chewing on her hair, and talk with such innocence. She was a prime example of pure misfortune. What saddened me the most was that she was unaware of exactly how ill she was. She seemed clueless to everything that was going on.409
Phooseball was the psyche ward sport. We spent countless hours playing this game, and before long I was awesome. My countless hours of playing seemed to pay off. Before long I was the best at the game and very few people ever defeated me. On the occasion that somebody did beat me the person would walk around the room yelling in triumph. It was during the phooseball games that Jeff and I became good friends. The two of us always played doubles together, and we lay fourth a certain amount of trust. I relied on him to do his part and he equally expected me to do my fair share of the work. Oddly, this game seemed to bring a more trusting relationship. 410
~ ~ ~411
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry Jeff. I had to do it.” Ms. Davis, Ms. Sue, Jeff, and I all sat down at a table together. Tuesday of the fourth week I had found out a little something about Jeff. He confided in me that he wished to take his life. I spent a long time trying to decide what to do about this. I didn’t want to get him in trouble, but he told me he was going to kill himself, and this is an extremely powerful statement. I wasn’t sure how to handle it. If I told he might hate me, but if I didn’t tell he might kill himself and his death would rest on my shoulders. I really cared about him and would never wish to seem him get harmed. Yet, there was an additional factor that held a heavy foot in my decision. I had informed Jeff of my plans to run away. If I told on Jeff for threatening to kill himself, he might return my favor by telling the staff I was planning to run. I was greatly afraid Jeff would do just this. Finally, After thinking about it long and hard I had concluded it was in his best interest for me to share his information with the staff, and I decided I would risk him telling on me.412
“Jeff I am really sorry!” I repeated413
“Max, it is quite all right. Jeff is lucky to have you as a friend,” Ms. Davis assured me.414
“How did you plan to do it? How did you plan to kill yourself?” Ms. Sue asked.415
There was a long moment of silence. “I don’t know,” Jeff said.416
“Max said you planned to hang yourself with your belts. Is this true?” Ms. Sue questioned.417
“Yes,” he mumbled and his eyes began to fill with tears.418
“It will be okay Jeff.” Ms. Sue paused and continued, “We will have to put you on V.P.S. It stood for visual patient super valiance, and it was for people who threatened to hurt themselves. On V.P.S. a person is never let out of sight. An employee must watch you use the bathroom, and you are forced to sleep in the hallway on a mattress. It isn’t at all fun, and I was sorry to be the cause of this.419
“Are you mad at me?” I asked Jeff. It was my fear that he might be angry with me, and I really wanted him to understand that I told on him because I cared about his well being. I just wanted to prevent him from carrying out his suicidal threats.420
“No,” he muttered. “No, Max, I’m not mad at you.” He shook his head. He was red and his eyes were flooding with tears. Jeff wore makeup and when he got upset his cheeks became a bright red. (Jeff is suppose to be Tevis) 421
“Max, when Jeff confided this information in you, he was basically asking you for help in the only way he knew how to do. Am I right Jeff?” Ms. Sue asked . Her eyes darted back and fourth analyzing the situation. She reminded me of an owl hunting for its prey. 422
“Yes,” he said softly and looked up at me with his glazed eyes. 423
I was glad and grateful he understood why I had to tell the staff. I did what I did solely for his own welfare. I still had a fear he might strike back at me out of spite. I had been planning to escape from the hospital for over a week, and Jeff was one of the people I asked for help. I had talked to nearly everybody, but everyone who wished to plan an escape with me was either too dumb or too slow. I wanted Jeff to run with me but he refused. He had lived on the streets for several years, and he preferred the hospital to the damp streets of New Orleans. Thus, I was going to be running away by myself. This was all right. I didn’t need anybody else’s help.424
After our meeting Jeff was placed on V.P.S. He showed no hostility towards me, and things carried on as usual. He hadn’t told the staff about me running, at least not yet, and so I once again went back to planning out my escape.425
There were several things I did in order to prepare for my departure. I spent a lot of time calculating what it would take to escape. I would often sit on my window seal looking outside at the green field and watch the trees dancing in the wind as my mind contemplated the details of my plan. 426
The first step in my escape was to save money. We weren’t allowed to keep money on us because employees were afraid it might give us an incentive to run. Money for buying cokes and candy bars was locked up in the nurses’ station. Cokes in the café only cost 75 cents and it was my plan to buy a drink with a dollar and pocket the quarter. A quarter isn’t much but after many trips to the café I had a couple dollars. No, not much money but I figured it was better than no money. At least I would have a couple dollars to buy some food or perhaps a bus ticket. 427
The second thing in my escape was picking the perfect time to run. I could take off running whenever an employee took everybody outside, but this presented two problems. First, I would be seen, and secondly somebody might chase after me. When I told Jeff I was going to run he swore up and down he would chase me and tackle me if I ran while he was around. Thus, I decided it might be in my best interest not to test his threat and instead of taking off while we were allowed to go outside- I was to run at night. However, the only way to do this would be by escaping through the door. This meant I would have to somehow obtain the keys. I went to work to find a way, and I watched everything closely as I tried to come up with the best strategy for my escape. As they say were there is a motive, there is a way. The employees had a shift change at 10:00, at which time the nighttime shift took over. The nightshift only had two employees and both were women. For several nights I would come out of my room and walk up to the nurse’s station to ask stupid questions. I noticed that on all occasions the nurse had her keys out on top of the counter. This is perfect. I had also been watching the employees very carefully and I knew precisely which key opened the door. Therefore, it was all worked out. I could take the keys off the counter, open the door and be out. 428
I needed to observe things more carefully, and I continued to study everything. The hospital’s front yard was about three football fields in surface area and there were two lights that cast their rays upon the ground. The two lights shut remained on for five minutes and only turned off for exactly one minute. In addition to the lights, a security guard made his rounds at about 10:20. The security guard would walk about the field and then would be off to inspect other parts of the grounds. To the right of the front yard was an iron fence and to the left was a road with several parking lots. I decided it was best to jump iron fence. Although, it would be easier to run down the road left of the hospital, I would have to go right by the security and thus, I felt jumping the fence might be a little easier. It would be very difficult to time everything perfectly but I figured I could be outside the hospital in five minutes just as the lights were shutting off. In this one minute I would have to manage to run across the field and jump the fence without being seen. It would be difficult, but I could do it. 429
With me I would bring my little bag of money, and I would be wearing several shirts on top of each other. I had also been sneaking bags of potato chips into my room. This would make a perfect snack to eat when I got hungry.430
I was confident that my plan would work. Nobody was expecting me to try to escape, and so, I thought I had everything mapped out. Except, there was one problem that kinda hurt my plans of escape. 431
~ ~ ~432
December the 14, a cold wet Saturday, I awoke like I normally did. The air conditioner was always on, even in winter. I had the nurses call maintenance to come shut my air vent but it was still cold. I would awake shivering and shaking in the freezing cold. I had four blankets on my bed to help trap in some warmth, but I always was sensitive to cold, and it ate to my bones. I was forced to sit in my bed for as long as two hours while I awaited the official announcement of morning. Everything was done accordingly to their time.433
This day went about as normal, and things were running as usual. But when Process group occurred I was in for a small shock. We were all in our room when I heard Ms. Sue’s shoes clapping on the floor as she made her way down to the day room. “Process group,” the yelled. As usual, we all filed out of our rooms and followed her to the day room where we took our seats. I took my favorite seat and sat comfortably when I noticed Ms. Sue give me an odd look. I thought she gave me the look because I had my feet on the table and so I quickly removed them. She always threw a fit when people placed their feet on the furniture.434
She took her seat, and cleared her throat. “I hear people are planning to run,” She said raising her eyebrows and looking around the room. 435
My immediate thought was that Jeff had told the staff about my plans to run. I couldn’t believe him! I was certain he told on me out of spite and I was furious. Yet, I sat in my seat trying desperately to appear calm.436
“Does that person want to say anything? Hmm? Does the person who is planning to run wish to say anything?”437
The room went soundless. I wasn’t going to raise my hand- at least not yet. Everybody was looking around wondering who the person was. Ms. Sue kept giving me side-glances and I knew she was talking about me.438
“Is this person not going to say anything? Are you going to make me reveal you?” Ms. Sue asked. She was such a prissy woman. “Okay, well, does anybody know who I am talking about?”439
Cody’s hand flew into the air and Ms. Sue called on him. “Yes, Cody?” she asked.440
“I think I know who it is,” Cody exclaimed. “Trent was talking about how he wanted to run away.”441
“No! I didn’t say that!” Trent back lashed. 442
“Ya, ya you did!” Cody pouted. “You did too!”443
“No I didn’t Cody. I haven’t said anything about running!” Trent yelled444
“Thank God- she isn’t talking about me,” I said to myself. I was just being nervous and obsessive. She hadn’t been talking about me. She was talking about Trent. However, these thoughts were shattered when Ms. Sue finally responded.445
“I’m not talking about Trent,” she said. I thought it odd that Ms. Sue didn’t seem to care at all about what Cody said. 446
“Then who are you talking about?” Cody asked.447
“Does anybody know?” Ms. Sue asked again.448
I raised my hand and Ms. Sue called on me eagerly. “Yes, Max?”449
“It was me. It was me, okay? I admit it.” 450
“Well that took long enough. You have wasted this groups time.”451
“Look, I wasn’t sure you were talking about me. How was I supposed to know you were referring to me? I’m not the only one who has been talking about running.” I stated in aggravation. 452
Ms. Sue ignored my remarks and said, “You know what I am thinking. I am thinking you need to be placed on U.R. We can’t let you run and so I think unit restriction might be appropriate for you.”453
“Fine,” I said rolling my eyes and shaking my head.454
“Max, I don’t really like your attitude,” Ms. Sue said frankly.455
“Well I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t want to upset your majesty!” I said in a sarcastic voice. I sounded so rude and I hadn’t meant to be so offensive, but it was just that, she made me so mad. She thought that people got mad at her because she brought up sensitive issues. I think people got mad at her because she was a bitch. At least that is what I told myself whenever I got angry with her.456
“Excuse me?” Ms. Sue said in shock.457
“You heard me! Does my sarcasm bother you? I don’t want mean to upset you,” I said in extreme sarcasm as I made a mocking frown. I continued, “You see people’s problems so well, but you are blind to your own.”458
“Max I think you need to go to the control room to calm down,” Ms. Sue said.459
“I think I need to too,” I said standing up in rage. I hurried towards the door, throwing it open in anger, I rushed down the hallway.460
~ ~ ~461
My entire running fiasco seemed to be ruined, but was it? I was sure I could still escape if I really tried. To be honest, I was acting a bit madly. Ms. Beth did a session with me and I gloated about my thoughts of running. I was acting extremely mad and it wasn’t long before my madness resulted in me doing something really foolish.462
It was a Wednesday. I was now on unit restriction, and this meant they were observing me closely. Whenever I wandered near the nurse’s station they kept a close eye on me. I could not be trusted. Yet, on this Wednesday I was, like I said, acting rather madly. I had been thinking about escaping and I was still determined to do so. It was late in the afternoon and I thought I could escape and show everybody that no one can confine me against my will. I will do it- they will see- I can out smart these fools. 463
Perhaps I should have realized the truth- the truth being, it would be nearly impossible to break out of here. How the hell was I to escape? The door was locked. What could I do? Steal the keys right off an employee and make dash for the door? Even if I was successfully and did this I would then have to manage to get downstairs. I couldn’t take the stairs because they were locked off and the elevator took so long. Yet, lets just say I managed to get downstairs, and then what would I do? If I managed to run outside without being caught and jump the fence I could dash out of sight of the hospital. But then, here was the biggest misconception, where the hell would I go? What could five bucks get me? Trying to escape clearly did not make sense. Yet, that Wednesday wasn’t about making sense, obviously. I didn’t take any of this into consideration- at this point I had gone rather mad.464
~ ~ ~465
I was going to take my shower, and as I gathered my stuff I was carefully going over my escape plans in my head. But, something stopped my thoughts dead in their tracks. I saw the nurse walking down the hall. She had long brown hair, and big glasses rested upon her nose. I wondered how her nose could support such weight. She wore pearl earrings, and she was one of the best nurses we had ever had. But what attracted my attention was the key chain she dangled in her right hand. It was just too much for me. The keys were right in front of my eyes, and I couldn’t help myself. Without thinking any further I reached for them. My hand grabbed the key chain quickly and the nurse held on. Oddly, she didn’t seem at all surprised.466
“Max what are you doing?” the nurse asked as I gripped her keys tightly.467
“I want to go home,” I said looking at the keys that we both held onto. I felt I had just as much of a right to the keys as she did.468
“You can’t go home right now.”469
“But- but, I want to go home. You can’t hold me here against my will.” I said in a voice that was oddly calm for the situation.470
“Max, you know you can’t just go home when you want too.”471
I stood in my spot for a moment of silence and intense thinking. “I’m going home,” I finally determined. I gave the set of keys a firm pull but her hold didn’t budge. I was extremely surprised by her strength. She wasn’t going to give the keys up without a fight.472
“Max, if you continue to work on your treatment you can get out of here quickly. This isn’t going to help you get out of here.”473
“I want to go home,” I repeated with passion. I spoke seemingly convinced of my own logic. The keys received another tug and this time it was the nurse trying to take them back from me. 474
“Common give me the keys,” she said. She waited a moment and when I did not respond she pulled harder and the keys slipped from my grip. I look startled at her once she had repossession of the keys. I feared what she was going to do, but surprisingly, she wasn’t the least bit mad with me. “Max, I know you want to go home, but you can’t right now. You need to get over your difficulties before you can go home.” 475
Ignoring her, I walked to the kitchen and sat down at the kitchen table and let my mind wander. It finally struck me how absurd it was to try and take the keys from the nurse. I hadn’t been thinking right. I gave a deep sigh and shook my head at my own stupidity as I realize just how dumb my plans to escape were. It was an extremely irrational idea. At that moment I realized the only way you can truly escape from the hospital was by getting better, and this was a terrifying truth.476
I never got upset at Jeff for telling on me. I eventually decided it was a sign of friendship rather than that of anger. He seemed genuine and I believed he was just trying to help me out. We continued to carry out a very strong and trusting relationship that was developed even further by this event. Jeff would tell me things that he told nobody else. He told me some pretty disturbing things. He suffered from mania. Oddly, he had fantasies of killing and raping people. When he told me this I shrugged. What he said wasn’t at all unusual, not anymore, and I was no longer easily surprised. 477
One day the two of us were playing a game together, and he was talking about drugs. I decided to brag a little and I told him in confidence that I had Aprazolam on me. He looked at me with a sudden curiosity and the first thing he said was, “Give it to me.” I, of course simply laughed at him. I really regretted telling him that. I don’t know why, but I felt that I should have kept that secret to myself. What if he told somebody? What if he decided it was a danger to me and he felt he should report me? These questions squirmed around in my mind frantically like little tadpoles. Had I made a big mistake? I trusted him.478
Chapter 5479
The Letter480
As December crept on I began a vigorous campaign to answer philosophical questions, and discover the meaning of life. I had been thinking a lot lately and there were many unanswered questions swimming through my mind. Thus, I began writing nonstop about life’s mysterious questions. It was my hope that I might stumble upon some discrete but valuable fact that would lead me to a life of fame and fortune. I have yet to discover this “valuable fact”, but instead, I became heavily confused. 481
“Is there a higher power?” This was one question that plagued my mind. Although, I was a proclaimed atheist, I was opened to thinking about new things and further expanding my views. Thus, I began to read many books about evolution and studied the bible. After employees turned the lights out I would often take my books and sit on the floor by my door. A little stream of light from the hallway poured from underneath the door, and I would use the light to read. Yet, as I read I began to think, and as I thought, I began to wonder, and as I wondered, I began to question. 482
I really liked the scientific form of creation because it gives an explanation of creation that is logical and understandable in my mind. Religion doesn’t explain creationism in nearly the same way as science. It describes an all mighty power that creates mankind and the earth. If these religious ideas were correct then science would be completely crushed because the entire field of science is based upon logical explanations. However, perhaps God used scientific means to create the earth? Believing that Both God and science coincide would solve all my problems. I mean, it is possible, isn’t it? Genesis could have been written in a poetic form, and it used symbolism in order to explain creationism. In the first book of the bible, Genesis, God is described as creating man from dirt. I thought that this might by symbolic to the creation of life through evolution. Evolution says that through planets and the right circumstances life was created. Planets are made of dirt, aren’t they? I could believe in what the bible says and at the same time I could believe he created us through the process of- well, the “big bang.” It sounds reasonable. But as I thought- I began to wonder, what is it that I am really hiding from? Is it creationism- the thought of how we came into existence, which deters my faith? Am I reluctant to believe there is a God just because it doesn’t seem scientifically possible? Or am I just using that to hide from the truth. The truth- I am afraid of giving my life up. I don’t know- I just- I just don’t know.483
Now I am really not sure what to believe. Before I was admitted into the hospital I was an atheist that believed that there were was no higher power. However, I went into a stage of studying philosophical questions, and the meaning of life and I began to arrive at confused conclusions. My mind was boggled. I no longer knew what to believe.484
~ ~ ~485
My attitude towards the hospital was gradually changing. Yes, I was still very arrogant, but I was getting better at it. Also, I was learning to be less critical of other people. 486
As I began to know everybody we created pretty trusting relationships. We would always stand up for one another. I would support others but it was the unwritten rule that they had to, in turn, support me. For example, Jeff was cheating in a card game. Jeff cheated at everything and he absolutely hated to lose. I had never met anybody who cheated more than him, nor anybody who loved to win as much as he did. Anyways, Jeff and I were playing cards with two other kids. As we neared the end of the game it was discovered there was cards missing and they accused Jeff of putting the cards in his pocket. He denied it. He swore up and down that he didn’t have- but I knew- I knew he had the cards. I walked up beside him and whispered to him to give the cards to me. Just in time, he slipped the cards to me. It was lucky too. A moment later he was searched, and nobody found anything on him. Point being- we trusted each other a lot.487
It may seem odd, but there was a distinct pecking order among all of us. The cool people would all sit at one table and the others would sit around the room. The ‘cool’ people happened to be Tommy, Jeff, Tevis, and thank God- me. Yet, I found something interesting. The four of us all had similar qualities. We all were moderately hygienic; we had good table manners, and had an expanded vocabulary-. I guess it wasn’t that we were popular but rather- we were able to communicate and function with one another. 488
I was beginning to enjoy life at the hospital. Honestly, I had given up all my hopes of returning to the real world, and so I was trying to make my stay as comfortable as possible. Life in the hospital was very anxiety free and I really enjoyed that. 489
~ ~ ~490
My eyes darted from one person to another as I nervously looked at my peers with deep scrutiny. We sat in the dayroom and we were nearing the end of the community. I sat nervously tapping my foot, and I had a topic on my mind that I was anxious to share. 491
“Okay, that ends community,” Ms. Sandra said in a monotone voice. She was one of the few employees that absolutely hated her job, and it was quite evident. “Any community issues?” Ms. Sandra asked.492
“Yes,” I said clearing my throat. “I have a community issue.” After community493
we were allowed to speak about any general problems involving the group. 494
“Okay, what is it,” Ms. Sandra said with another heavy drawn out sigh.495
I glared at everybody in the room as I stood up. “As everybody knows I am a very hygienic person,” I began. “I always like things to be clean. Yet, I just got out of the bathroom and do you know what-” I said with suspenseful. Everybody’s eyes were on me.496
“Boy shut up and sit down,” Ms. Sandra said.497
“No wait, Ms. Sandra,” I protested. “I’m serious- let me speak.”498
“Okay- well hurry up and get to the point- I wanta flip the T.V. on. I forgot to tape survivor at home and so were gona watch it here.”499
“Do you know what I saw?” I continued. “The bathroom was completely messed up. Somebody crapped on the floor and smeared it on everything. Not to mention, there is a roll of toilet paper that has been used and thrown on the ground. The bathroom is filthy beyond recognition.”500
“Good God Max! Oh my Gosh how exciting!” Ms. Sandra said mocking me and then she chuckled at herself. Her whole body shook when she laughed. She rolled her eyes and laughed again. “You make it sound as if somebody was killed.”501
“No, but Ms. Sandra I am serious,” I said.502
“Okay, who was in the bathroom before you?” Ms. Sandra asked getting serious. She liked to play around and take situations lightly, as should be done, but she also could be pretty damn serious when she needed to be.503
“I don’t know. I don’t keep a bathroom record”504
“Does anybody know?” Ms. Sandra questioned and paused. She continued, “Okay whoever did this, it isn’t funny. If I find out who did this they will get an early bedtime and they will lose all of their points,” she paused a moment as we all gasped at the harsh penalties and then she continued on, “Now we are going to have everybody use the other bathroom and I will call maintenance to come clean the mess up. Is it real nasty Max?”505
I looked at her in perplexity. “Ms. Sandra, it was nasty to begin with. Now, it is seriously disgusting. I had to go to the other bathroom because I couldn’t walk in without getting crap on my shoes.” Perhaps I was being a little dramatic, but the bathroom truly was nasty enough beforehand. To improve the conditions I had actually suggested that we might put little hand towels in the bathroom, and some nice little smelly soaps. I thought it might be pretty, and it could encourage people to wash their hands. My idea didn’t get very far.506
“Okay, well I’ll call Maintenance, but I am serious. I don’t want people messing up the bathroom. I don’t want for this to happen again. You guys are old and you shouldn’t be messing all over the place. At least- I think most of you are old enough to know how to use the bathroom, but I could be wrong” Ms. Sandra spoke with a nasty sarcasm.507
“If I may say something,” Tommy protested as he raised his hand.508
“Oh dear Lord,” Ms. Sandra said. “Now Tommy wants to preach about it. Go ahead Tommy.” Tommy was a very intelligent kid who loved to give long speeches about everything. He was a talented speaker and a good role model. Him and I argued about politics a lot, and he always had some unique viewpoints.509
“I want to say that this is absurd and whoever did this should be ashamed of themselves. It is sad that somebody is this immature, and I for one am very disappointed that the staff has to put up with this crap. We are always trying to convince them that we are well behaved and deserve more privileges, but then we do something like this. Whoever did that it should admit to it and go clean that bathroom up.510
“Tommy,” Ms. Sandra interrupted with a yawn. “Perhaps we could discuss this later- I am missing my television show.” I burst out laughing and looked around. 511
“Am I the only one who thought that was funny?” There was silence to my question. Tommy also went silent. He hated Ms. Sandra. 512
I actually supported Tommy because I was a very sanitary person and many of the people I was living with didn’t give a damn about hygiene. One well known rule- depressed people don’t have good hygiene. Depressed persons tend not to care about themselves, and they will let their needs fall to pieces unless they are forced to take care of them. The other day we had been building Ginger Bread houses as a Christmas treat and everybody’s hands had been all over the food. It hadn’t been meant to eat, but the kids insisted that they might be allowed to taste their Ginger Bread houses. Everybody ended up eating the houses but me. I was the only person who refused to touch it. Don’t get me wrong- I love sweets and like candy. It was just that everybody’s hands had been on it, and I found this rather nasty. I didn’t know where the candy came from or a bigger fear, where everybody’s hands had been- but the others- what did they care? Max is an arrogant prissy gay? Hey, who said that? I asked. 513
The next day, a Friday, I awoke early in the morning. Like always, the cold air pouring through the air vent had awoken me. I fidgeted uncomfortably in my bed as I tried desperately to warm my body. It was an hour and a half until breakfast, and when you are bored out of your mind, time tends to pass very slowly. I went out of my bedroom and asked to use the bathroom. The bathroom down the hall had been cleaned and reopened since the incident, and so, I made my way down the hall. Yet, as I opened the door there was a puddle of urine in front of me. I moaned and gave a deep sigh. The trail of urine was across the floor and a little bit of crap was smeared on the side of the wall. The culprit had struck again! I went to the nurse’s station and reported the mess. Somebody seemed to be getting a kick out of the excitement. 514
That morning when we had process groups the topic Ms. Sue had prepared for us was on hygiene. Apparently, the bathroom incidents were not the only problem going on. Very few people were taking care of their hygienic needs.515
“I was very disappointed when I got the report that somebody keeps messing up the bathrooms, and I decided it was about time that we discussed hygiene. It has also been brought to my attention that several people are continuing to wear dirty clothes. And on top of that, some people are complaining that some people smell. Max informed me yesterday that you smell Thomas.” 516
I laughed hesitantly with embarrassment. It was true, I did inform her of this, but only because I thought it was disgusting. I was living with these people, and I didn’t want them to smell bad. 517
“Thomas the clothes you are wearing currently don’t look clean,” Ms. Sue said squinting her eyes and carefully examining the pair of dirt-covered pants he wore. Not only were his pants dirty, but he also wore a shirt covered with food stains.518
“That looks like spaghetti sauce on your shirt, and we had spaghetti two nights ago,” Tommy said. 519
“That doesn’t look clean at all Thomas,” Ms. Sue said.520
“It isn’t spaghetti sauce,” Thomas argued. It was very obvious he was embarrassed and he had every right to be, but it was also obvious he was guilty with which he was being accused of. He was wearing dirty clothes!521
“Thomas, we may have to do something with you called ‘clean bag dirty bag’. Do you know what that is?” They give names to everything, I thought tomyself. Thomas shook his head and Ms. Sue continued, “We get two trash bags and we take all your clothes and put the clean clothes in one bag and the dirty clothes in another bag. These two bags are locked up and every morning an employee gets the bags out and watches you take a pair of clothes from the clean bag. All your dirty clothes go in the dirty bag. That’s why we call it clean bag dirty bag. “522
No kidding,” I mumbled but not loud enough to be heard. 523
“So you know what I am thinking Thomas? I am thinking you may not be responsible enough to keep your clothes in your own room. Does anybody have feedback for him?” Ms. Sue asked.524
Several hands went up, and Ms. Sue called on Cody. “Thomas, I just want to say,” Cody began pausing thoughtfully, “I think that what you are doing is really nasty. You should wear clean clothes. Wearing dirty clothes is disgusting, and I think it’s not nice.” It was really funny that Cody was saying this. You see- Cody was the least hygienic of all of us. He was currently doing the clean bag dirty bag and he was constantly heckled about never cleaning himself. He often smelled.525
“People who are not cleaning themselves need to start doing it,” Cody continued. Everybody was aware that he was the most hygienically challenged of all of us but nobody said anything. We just kind of laughed to ourselves. 526
“Tommy, your hand was up next,” Ms. Sue said.527
“I just wanted to say that this is really disgusting and immature. I really hoped that everybody in here had more maturity, and I think it is gross that this is happening. It shows that you guys don’t have respect for yourself, or others.”528
I looked at Tommy, nodded my hand, and clapped. “I elect Tommy, Yahoo!” I yelled in a very sarcastic support. My outburst got a few laughs, and an eye roll from Tommy (although it was more from the way I said then the comment itslef). I was doing it to be humorous, but I also thought that we had to make light of the situation. It was just a little odd to me. I had gotten use to the strange hospital life, but I still found the situations I faced day to day very humorous. Everything in the hospital was taken so seriously, and while people in the real world were attending work and school, we were in our little ‘dayroom’ discussing all these odd topics.529
After process group I had hoped that the bathroom incidents would stop, but it didn’t. The person who was doing it was clearly having some fun with us, and they continued to wreck the bathroom. Thus, I began doing some investigating of my own to come to the bottom of this matter. 530
My room was right next to the bathroom and the walls were paper-thin. I could hear everything, even the running water from the facets, which, by the way, very few ever used to clean their hands. I decided that in order to catch the person I must listen closely and make a note of whoever went into the bathroom. When the person was done using the bathroom, I would then exit my room and go to the bathroom to investigate. If it was clean then the person was innocent, and if it were dirty I would know who did it! 531
Two days later I stumbled into the bathroom when the person was done using it, and I discovered with satisfaction that the bathroom was a mess. I knew who was turning the bathroom into a mess. Running out into the hall I shouted, “I know who it is!”532
“What is it Max?” Ms. Olivia asked. 533
“Ms. Olivia,” I said hurrying towards her. “I know who is messing the bathroom up. The person just got through using it and I went to use the bathroom and everything is messy now.”534
“Well who is it?” Ms. Olivia asked.535
“It is Trent!” I whispered. Trent was a heavy set kid with short hair, and an extremely dangerous anger problem. For some reason we all were nasty to Trent, and made fun of him a lot. I know it sounds mean but he got so tiresome. People would always ask me what I thought about others and I would never tell my personal opinion. However, when people asked me about Trent I would speak openly about how much I disliked him. Oddly, Him and I got along well, but for some reason I was slightly intimated by his size. However, I was not afraid to tell on him about messing up the bathroom. I was going to do whatever it took to stop him from destroying the bathroom.536
After I told the staff who the culprit was, they confronted him on the issue and at first he denied it. However, after a lot of talking he eventually admitted to it and the bathroom incidents were put to a stop. Other hygiene problems were also beginning to clear up. Yet, every now and then it wasn’t unusual for somebody to stink. But we had a new policy- if somebody smelled bad, we were allowed to have them sent out of the room, and this solution satisfied me.537
~ ~ ~538
I had two rather exciting meetings that week. Not necessarily smooth meetings. Nevertheless, they were nothing short of the word ‘exciting.’ 539
The first meeting that week was a family meeting with my social worker Ms. Davis. Family meetings were constructed to help improve family relations. It was during this time that we discussed issues the entire family needed to deal with. Yet, the moment I walked into the meeting I was bombarded by a list of questions. 540
“Max, are you brushing your teeth?” My dad queried. I looked back at him spitefully.541
“Oh my goodness, dad! You are absolutely impossible. Am I brushing my teeth? We are having a family session and you ask me about brushing my teeth. Is this really that big of an issue to you?” My mom and dad would come during family sessions from Baton Rouge and we would spend this time trying to solve “family problems.” I think our family sessions might have caused as many problems as it solved. We usually fought the entire session and I would be agitated. It seems we rarely did accomplish anything, but this family session- this one was different. I finally realized something very important.542
“Dad look, I am in a hospital. There are more important things going on in my life then whether or not I am brushing my teeth.”543
“Well, Max, we paid good money to have your teeth fixed and I just want to make sure you are maintaining them.”544
Ms. Davis was sitting in the chair watching us fight and finally decided to intervene. “Max, why don’t we stop arguing. You are getting off focus.”545
“I don’t give damn,” I muttered.546
“Look, Max, we don’t need an attitude. If you aren’t going to act appropriately then we won’t do this.”547
“But my dad won’t stop talking about my teeth!” I raged.548
“Okay- well he is not talking about it now” Ms. Davis said calmly. 549
“Why are you getting mad at me? I am not the one bringing up stupid topics,” I continued on angrily. They so easily inflamed me, and all of their visits went pretty poorly. I felt bad about it, and I didn’t want to upset them. They drove all the way down to New Orleans just to see me, and after that long drive we would always argue. When they left I would always feel bad.550
Ms. Davis paused a moment as everything quieted and then she spoke, “So Max, back on topic- how about you continue to explain what you have been doing to work on your treatment…”551
The entire family session went on in this manner. When it finally came to an end my parents were escorted out. Ms. Sue came back in the room and took a seat again to talk to me.552
“Max,” she said. “How do you think your family session went?”553
“Okay,” I said. She gave me a look and I sighed. “It could have been worse,” I argued with her sigh. The truth was that the family session was a disaster. We wasted the time fighting about petty problems, and this may be expected to happen sometimes, but not in every single session. 554
“Max you need to be more respectful to your parents,” Ms. Beth said. “And you need to find some other way to communicate without arguing.”555
“It is just that they always bring up such stupid topics.”556
“Yes- they like to make small things into big issues, but look at it realistically. Max, it is really pretty funny that you and your parents can sit in our family sessions and talk about your teeth for 15 minutes. I have a hard time trying not to laugh,” Ms. Davis said as she displayed a small clever smile.557
I looked at the ground and thought a bit. Then I smiled wildly. When I thought about it, it was rather humorous. We fought about such stupid issues that really didn’t matter.558
“Max,” Ms. Davis began, “Parents are- ya know- just like that. You need to stop feeding into it and getting all worked up. It really isn’t a big deal. Couldn’t you have just humored your parents by telling them that you are brushing your teeth? Couldn’t you just say that to appease them? Do that instead of getting into a big fight about something so silly. You guys are doing something that is called dancing. 559
“What is dancing?” I asked. I didn’t ask the question because I really cared, but rather because I knew she wanted me to ask.560
“Dancing is where everybody feeds off of each other. Your dad gets you angry and then you get angry and the two of you fight back and fourth in a little circle.”561
I looked at Ms. Beth in puzzlement and there was a moment of silence. “Your right,” I said unsteadily and pausing dramatically, I continued, “I guess.” I paused a long moment once more while I thought, and for the first time I realized something knew. It was something Ms. Davis was trying to tell me all along. I thought about it for a long moment. “You know what I think I realize now,” I said pausing in deep thought. “My parents will always do this- won’t they? They can’t- they won’t change will they?” I paused once more as Ms. Davis looked on with curious eyes and then an epiphany of enthusiasm I exclaimed, “ It is I who will have to change.” For the first time I saw the truth. For a long time I was hoping that my parents would change. I was hoping that the fighting that went on among us was their fault, but it really wasn’t them who needed to change. It was me who had to change. I found it rather odd that it took me so long to understand this small concept. For some reason I was always under the illusion that my parents would change and my life at home would improve due to this. Yet, the simple truth is that they weren’t the ones who needed to change. I was the one who needed to change. 562
~ ~ ~563
The second meeting I had that week was with the treatment team. On every Tuesday the doctor and nurses all get together and meet with all patients individually. The treatment team has a total of about 14 specialists, and these 14 specialists collaborate with the Dr. Matthews and he then addresses each one of the patients. Dr. Matthews will either praise you for doing good or scorn you for doing poorly. I had already been to treatment team several times, and each time I was kicked out on the account of being dramatic. He would say to me, “Max, I won’t talk to you when you’re dramatic. Goodbye,” and then I would be escorted out of the room. I felt it was unjust to kick me out. After all, I needed medical treatment, and your not suppose to stop treating a patient because he doesn’t act the way you want. You can’t- can you? Well, anyways, it was goal to remain in this treatment team meeting the entire time.564
On treatment team day we would all go to the dayroom and one by one we were called down to the kitchen area where treatment team was being held. While we waited our turns we gathered around playing board games, and of course, phoosball! When I first arrived at the hospital I knew little about the sport, but oh, how the tables had changed. Hell, if I could solve my problems as quickly as I learned how to play phoosball, I would have been out of the hospital in a week.565
It actually just so happened that I was playing phooseball when the telephone rang, and the employee informed me that the phone call was a request for me to be sent down the hall to treatment team. It was my turn! I nervously left the dayroom and headed up to the kitchen where the doctor awaited me.566
“Good luck!” Cody whispered kindly. I gave him a head nod as I continued down the hallway. My heart pounded, my hands were sweating, and I throbbed with extreme anxiety. There were going to be so many people looking at me, listening, and analyzing my every move. I was afraid of what the doctor was going to tell me.567
I came around the corner of the kitchen and everybody was talking amongst themselves. The chatter stopped immediately when they saw me.568
“Max,” Dr. Matthews said. “Come take a seat here.” I sat down and looked at him anxiously. 569
“How are you doing?” Dr. Matthews asked. Before I could answer he continued, “Max, let me be frank with you. You are not doing enough work and I am going to hold you here until you are an old rotting man.” Perhaps those weren’t the exact words he used but that is what I pictured in my head. “Until you do some work I won’t let you out of this place, and to be honest, you have a lot of work to do. So far you have wasted a lot of time when you could be getting help.”570
“I’m trying,” I argued.571
“You need to open up and express your feelings,” Dr. Matthews said impatiently.572
“I am!” 573
“I can’t make you get better. You think medicines will solve all your problems, but really you are the only one who can solve your problems. You need to start trying harder. If you want to get rid of you depression and anxiety- that is what you have to do. You must help us help you.”574
“How the hell would you know anything about me? I haven’t seen you enough for you to make such profound comments. You see me once a week for fifteen minutes!” I raged.575
“Goodbye,” he said waving his hand. He was about to say something else but he stopped himself. 576
I got up and left obediently, and I was burning with anger. I knew what Dr. Matthews was trying to do. He was just trying to scare me into working harder. He wanted me to start focusing on my treatment and find the things that depressed me- he wanted me to want to get better. He didn’t really mean what he said; because I was improving myself- I was- wasn’t I? 577
I was so angry that I went into my room and began to think. I felt it was duty to inform the world about the evil things Dr. Matthews was doing. I was appalled that he refused me medical aid because I was being ‘dramatic’! I pulled out the letter I had written to Dr. Matthews and had placed beneath my bed. 578
It read:579
Mr. Matthews:580
You are a very ignorant man. I haven’t a clue as to how you passed medical school, and an even bigger question, how you got this job! You are a joke to the field of medicine, and you are joke to the institution you are currently working in.581
I believe that your way of treating patients is most unprofessional. You refuse to treat my medical needs on the account that I am too dramatic! How can you refuse me medical aid because I am dramatic? It is your duty to treat patients regardless of how angry they make you. I find it preposterous that you refuse to treat me because of my behavior. The field of psychiatry is a joke because of morons like you!582
You are an awful doctor who was fortunate enough to establish an excellent strategy. In fact, all of your success is based upon this idea and nothing more. What is the idea that I speak of? Well, you have created a hospital program that says less medicine and more therapy. While most of the world is saying more medicine and less therapy, you are trying to prove that the opposite is the most efficient strategy. It is this strategy that has made you successful. You are a very bad doctor with a very good idea. In other words, Mr. Matthews, you got pretty damn lucky!583
Max584
I was about to bring the letter to him but I stopped myself. I needed to wait. I needed to wait for the perfect time.585
~ ~ ~586
The following morning I was surprised when Dr. Matthews popped his head inside my bedroom and asked if I wanted to have a session. I nodded a hesitant yes and followed him down the hall.587
“Max,” he said as we entered his office. “How are you doing?” He shut the door and two of us took seats in the cushioned chairs. 588
I looked at him angrily. Everything about this man drove me insane. Most of all I was still mad at him because of treatment team yesterday. How dare he tell me I wasn’t working hard enough! “Dr. Matthews,” I spoke with an arrogant tone. “When I get out of this hospital I am going to get back on the same medicines. You can’t keep me off them!”589
Dr. Matthews looked up from the papers in his lap and he widened his eyes. There was an uneasy moment of silence, and then it was broken by his raging scream. “That’s it, Max!” he yelled. “I am not going to listen this passive aggressive nonsense!”590
“What!” I asked innocently. 591
“Max, that is your way of saying fuck you, and guess what- you won’t waste my time insulting me. Goodbye!” I didn’t budge from my seat but he let out another holler. “Get out!” This shout quickly lifted me upon my feet.592
As I exited the office I tried to appear calm and in control. There were workers and a couple kids in the hallway that looked curiously at me, and I knew they had overheard Dr. Matthews shouting. I went straight to my room, and pulling the letter from beneath my bed I went to the nurses station and had a nurse slip it in Dr. Matthews mailbox.593
Later that day I was eating my lunch and I saw Dr. Matthews rushing from the nurse’s station. He came straight for me, and in his right hand he held the letter that I had written him. I tried to remain calm.594
“Max,” he said loudly. “I read your letter, but guess what! All I have to say is- I am not the one in the mental hospital!”595
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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i got through chapter 4 it wus yet again awsome yay and i would read chapter 5 but im going 2 my friends house so that sux cause the story is fucking awsom...
much luv <3
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Meant to leave you applause before, so here it is!
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Well, I read the entire thing and was a bit disappointed that it ended. I wanted to know more like what ever happened to Max? Did he escape, go home, or still there? The read was very good and I think it will be most appealing to teens and young adults. I know so many struggle with depression and homosexuality. I hope you soon add more to this.......I will surely continue to read as you do. Kudos to you, well written, thought provoking piece!
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well hey i read chapters 2 and 3 yay go me but man this story is like so fucking awsome!!! i exspecally loved the big secret it wus so awsome...and oh by the way how much of this story is actually tru??? huh
p.s. sorry for the stupid comment im like really hyper!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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well i only read the 1st chapter and its a great story like i didnt want 2 stop reading but i dont have enough time 2 but yeah it wus really good...
<3
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