A Caged Lion

With a growing skepticism about my decision to have myself committed, we exited the elevator onto the second floor, stepped out and walked forward down the hall passing several doors on our way. There were offices and meeting rooms on either side of the hallway and at the end of the hall were two sets of double-doors. The ones to the left were the entrance of the substance abuse ward and to the right, the entrance to the psych ward, neither of which held much comfort as we approached. In the middle of the two sets of doors was a room encased in plate glass which was used as the security station for the floor. From there the staff and security could see clear down the hallway to the elevator and stairway as well as the entrances to all of the offices and visitation or meeting rooms. The floor was very well laid out and didn’t allow much freedom for movement outside of each of the wards. By that time I was seriously questioning whether or not I had made the right choice.

As we approached the doors to the psych ward there was a nurse watching as we walked up to the door. She had mousy brown hair in a shoulder length bob, about 5′ 10′ and skinny. As I walked to the door she looks at me and smiles, with that I was not nearly as threatened as I was but I still remain guarded. ”Hi I’m Cathy” she said as she held a clipboard against her chest, “Hello” I muttered. I was barely able to look up at her in fear that I would break down and make a fool out of myself. ”I’m going to be taking you to show you your room and we’ll sit and talk for a few minutes.” Around the nurses desk where we were, I turned around and behind me was the main area where everyone would come to sit and visit with their family, have coffee or watch TV. Several other residents were scattered through out this area and of course, all of their eyes on me. I turn to Cathy and said, “Guess everyone is curious about the new guy huh?” She giggles a bit and tells me, “You will be sitting in those chairs wondering the same thing they are before you know it.”

I wasn’t sure where my mind was at that point but I knew that I was absolutely wiped out. Cathy grabbed a small pink plastic tub and then she and one of the male attendants followed us down the hall to my new living quarters. Once in the room she laid her clipboard as well as the pink tub on one of the beds in my room, evidently the bed that was to be mine. She then tells me in somewhat of a cautious voice, “I have to ask you if you have anything sharp that you might be able to harm yourself with.” I can’t say that I was surprised at the question and then she went on, ” I need to ask you to empty your pockets and take off your socks and shoes.” I was somewhat intimidated as the attendant was watching like a hawk but I proceeded. ”Mark is going to just do a light body search just to make sure”, she said. ”We have to do this for everyones protection.” It seemed a bit much but judging by some of the patients I saw upon my arrival I could see why they had to be so cautious.

Once they were done with their search and seizure of any “sharps” as they liked to call them, Cathy asked if I needed anything. Unfortunately what I wanted was to be home but I knew that wasn’t a possibility and I began to tear up. No sooner had I raised my hand to wipe the tear from my eye my doctor walks in. It was so nice to see a familiar face after having been patted down by the male attendant and made somewhat to feel like a criminal. ”Hey I see you settled into your room, how are you feeling?” he asked. ”Doing okay, just a little tired,” I said. There was an awkward moment of silence but he never looked away from me and smiled at me the entire time. He then explained to me that he would see me 3 times a week and that my therapist would be in twice a week to check on me and for regular therapy sessions. ”You will be very safe here and I know that you will do well with your treatment. Is there anything I can get you before I leave? Do you need anything for anxiety or sleep?” I was sure that I probably wouldn’t need any help falling asleep but was naturally a bit on the anxious side. I never even had to tell him, he automatically knew and said, “I’ll prescribe something for you right away and they will bring it to you soon. There is no pressure to meet anyone here, you take it at your own pace. If you need anything just tell the nurses and they will call me.” He walked out the door, I laid down on the bed and cried myself to sleep.

It was about 6 in the evening when I was awakened by the nurse to alert me that it was time for dinner. Since it was my first night, dinner was delivered to my room to try and make the transition easier. The less people I had to deal with right away the less anxiety I would have. There was plenty of time over the next few days for me to become acquainted with everyone in the psych ward. After eating dinner in my room the nurse returned with my medications for the night and to take my vitals as they would end up doing every night. I really didn’t know what to expect next as I had not been briefed on what our daily schedule or rehabilitation would consist of so I was kind of figuring it out as I went along. It was the first night however so I figured that the first couple of days would be spent in orientation mode.

Later that night, I woke up screaming and drenched in sweat again. The man that had been haunting me in my night terrors had made his return to torment me some more. The staff had already changed shifts and the new attendants came running to the room. ”Are you okay?” asked Carl, one of the night staff. ”I’m okay” I replied trying to catch my breath. ”Just bad dreams” I told him. ”Must have been a pretty bad dream, you need something to sleep?” he asked. I really didn’t want to spend all of my time in the hospital doped up so I said, “no that’s okay I’ll be fine.” He walked out the room and I laid back down but the image of this man continued to stalk me and I couldn’t go back to sleep. We were not confined to our rooms at all, we couldn’t go any further than the main meeting area or “living room” but thankfully were at liberty to sit and watch TV and have a cup of coffee if we wanted.

As I walked into what I will call from here on as the “living room”, I was surprised to see that I was not the only one that was having a hard time sleeping. There were about 4 others that were wandering the hall or sitting watching TV or having coffee or a smoke. I was greeted by a very friendly woman, a face that I had seen briefly upon my arrival, one of the patients. She was a short woman about 5′ 6″, not heavy but not thin, big eyes and very large smile. ”Hi I’m Tracy” she said as she mixed her coffee with a stir straw. I introduced myself as well and said, “nice to meet you Tracy.” She looked as tired as I felt but her smile was the warmth that I so badly needed being in such a cold and lonely place. ”So what are you in for?” she said. I kind of chuckled at the question because it sounded like a typical jail or prison line. ”I’ve been having blackouts and lost some of my memory in an accident last year”, I said. I felt kind of stupid proclaiming that to a total stranger because to this point I had not been very honest with my own family about it. ”I have been having flashbacks and just having a hard time dealing with them, what about you?” She looked at me and smiled, then kind of looked away as if embarrassed about her reason and said, “oh I’m just having problems with my husband and needed a break.” I couldn’t do much but smile at her but I knew it was just her way of saying that she didn’t really want to get into it. I respected her privacy and figured that it would only be a matter of time before she would come clean.

We sat for a few minutes more while I had some coffee and got to know each other. She began pointing around the room to fill me in on the residents that were up and about. ”Thats Vikki over there” she whispers, pointing with her eyes to this frail, tiny blonde haired woman with dark circles under her eyes that was sitting with her feet on the chair and her arms wrapped around her legs holding her knees up to her chest, rocking back and forth. ”She’s been here 2 or 3 times, cant’ sleep at all and won’t eat.” My heart went out to her and I began to think that maybe my problems weren’t all that bad. She looked so fragile that you could snap her like a twig, very unhealthy and very withdrawn as if she had just given up. ”And over there”, she whispers again and points, “that’s Fred, he’s in for depression, he’s had problems being gay.” Fred was a much older man in his fifties, tall, thin with a white moustache and was balding. I could certainly empathize with him although we were not at all close in age and could only imagine what it was like to be gay in the time of his youth.

We were nearly done with our coffee and as she put out her cigarette she turned and said, “well honey, I’m gonna try and get back to sleep, my Ativan is kicking in.” I realized at that point that medications were going to be a big player during my stay as I had seen patients being given pills at the nurses station. ”I’ll see you in the morning”, Tracy said and then walked down the hall into her room. It was nice to have made an acquaintance so early into my stay and I no longer felt like I was the only one in the world that had issues that I needed to deal with. Tracy had befriended me with no expectations and I knew at that point she would be a guide of sorts to help me get through this orientation period. I said goodnight to the nurses and went back to bed in anticipation of my next night terror and what the next day would bring but overall, my spirit had not been broken and I kept the will to move forward in the long journey ahead of me.