New Kid on the Block

On the second day of my surrender, I was comfortable enough to join the other residents for lunch in the cafeteria. Tracy, luckily for me had allowed me a little more courage than if I had to face it not knowing anyone. On our stroll down to the cafeteria it was almost like being in high school all over again. As we were approaching the cafeteria the residents of the substance abuse ward were leaving the cafeteria having had the first lunch shift, probably to keep them more subdued having gone through detox. They looked at us as the jocks would look at the gang bangers before a rally and vice versa. It was somewhat comical to see the behaviors of people in captivity and how they almost seemed to be marking their territories.

“That one there has been in since the last time I was here” said Tracy as she lifted her hand half way up her chest to give a polite wave to this tall, long haired tattooed man in his thirties.

I looked at Tracy in disbelief, ”the last time you were here?”

“Oh yes honey, my husband has good insurance and any reason to get away from him.”

I thought it funny that the more I hung around her the more relieved I was to know that maybe I am a bit more normal than I had previously thought. We walked into the cafeteria and I was expecting a much different set up. In my head I was ready for the typical cafeteria setting where the tables were side by side in rows of 4 or 5. To my surprise, it looked more like a restaurant with it’s large wooden round tables and matching chairs, linen napkins and even self-serve carts close by with assorted beverages. It also had a social area with sofas where people could sit and chat or visit with one another until it was time to retreat back to the residential areas. As I am walking with Tracy to the food line I can’t help but to think that had I known it was this nice, I would have had the breakdown a long time ago.

“No wonder you like coming here”, I said to Tracy.

“I have about the same comforts at home, I just can’t seem to get rid of my husband”, she said out of one side of her mouth.

I never pressed Tracy to share too much of her home life because I knew that we had group therapy sessions coming soon and eventually I would catch small glimpses into her life, so I waited patiently.

After getting our food, which was quite a selection buffet style, we walked to a table toward the window where we had a view of the courtyard. It was surrounded by a twelve foot brick wall and on the far end of the courtyard was a rectangular shaped lap pool with about 4 lanes. Surrounding the pool were several patio tables and chairs as well as some sofas and ottomans. Along the inside of the courtyard opposite the twelve foot walls was a wall of glass that extended from the cafeteria to the opposite side of the pool. That wall of glass encased a walkway that extended from just outside the cafeteria and connected to another building in which they held occupational therapy sessions. There, residents could engage in all sorts of arts and crafts from painting to pottery making meant to teach each individual how to follow through on different projects. It was taught to us that this technique was essential in making us active and productive members of society.

After sitting at the table to eat our food we were joined by 2 of the other residents. Micheal, the older man that was having a hard time being gay and Kieth, another gay resident that had moved from the substance abuse wing to begin his integration back into society without drugs. I can’t say that I was surprised that he too was gay because in the late 80’s the gays were really coming out of the closet in droves and I am sure that they were having as hard of a time as I was.

“This is Kieth”, Tracy said with a grin.

I extended my hand, “It’s nice to meet you Kieth”.

“Likewise”, he said

We continued to eat our lunch and Tracy seemed to have been the social butterfly of the group and the most popular of all residents. I assumed that it was due to the fact that it was her regular vacation spot but non the less it was nice to have a guide. She continued the conversation back and forth between the 3 men at her table and it was the first time that I had heard the term, Faghag. Micheal, the older gay gentleman, had referred to her as that later in the conversation and at that time I looked at Tracy to see what kind of reaction she had. I thought she would be offended but evidently she was perfectly comfortable with that title.

“So what happens after lunch?”, I asked the table.

“Well we have group therapy on Tuesdays and Thursdays”, Tracy says as she exhales the smoke from her cigarette.

It was Tuesday which meant that in about an hour from then we would all sit in a room with a counselor and listen to each others life burdens. I of course had no intention of letting anything out, or letting anyone in.

“How does that usually go?”, I said nervously.

“Oh the usual”, Kieth says rolling his eyes. ”The same people telling the same stories looking for sympathy.”

It was obvious that Kieth did not want to be there and that he wasn’t there of his own free will. Kieth was a tall, slim guy about 5′ 11″ and 165 pounds, short brown hair, brown eyes. His face was a bit on the gaunt side probably from the drugs he had been using before arriving at the hospital. He was an angry person but at times I caught a partial smile when we would talk about clubbing or men. I knew there was a nice guy hiding in there if he could just get past all of the resentment he was holding onto.

After lunch we all made our way back to our rooms to freshen up and get ready for “group” as it was referred to by the residents. Uneasy as I was about it I was told that we all talk when we are ready so I wasn’t exactly sure that I was going to voice anything about me until I had a chance to figure out what brought me there in the first place. Besides, it seemed as if there were plenty of others to take up the hour or two that we would be entangled in everyones lives. I got myself together, took a deep breath and made my way down the hallway outside of the residential wing in one of the meeting rooms where everyone met for group.

As I walked into the room I could feel eyes staring me down so I tried quickly to scan the room in hopes that Tracy, Kieth or Micheal were already there and I would sit with them. Unfortunately no one had arrived and just as I went to select a chair, in walks Tracy.

“Hello Dear” Tracy says while putting her cigarrette pack and lighter back in her case. “What did I miss?”

My ass had not had the chance to touch the seat so I got up and walked to Tracy and joined her in what I assumed to be her “regular chair”. Everyone there seemed, for the most part, to stake a claim to some inanimate object or another.

“Come sit” she said as she patted the seat of the chair next to her, “You won’t want to miss this.”

The room started to fill up and I could feel my nerves begin to unsettle and as the residents of the psych ward dragged themselves in as if they were being hearded into a cattle truck. Some of them smiling, some of them with a deer in the headlight look on their faces and some just didn’t want to be there at all and then walks in Kieth, late as usual and complete with a frown on his face.

Tracy flags down Kieth, “Here we are my love!”

Kieth rolls his eyes at the size of the crowd in the room and grunts, ” Guess they all came to see the new kid on the block”, referring to me of course.

“Well they arent getting anything out of me today!” I said nervously.

“They will have to pry it from my dead red juicy lips”, said Tracy sarcastically. ”You talk when you are ready honey, and don’t let anyone tell you different. As long as your insurance is good, they won’t be pushing you to say a word!”

I was somewhat amazed that having insurance could command so much attention. I wasn’t sure if the military insurance just came with better perks or perhaps that the doctors just knew how to manipulate the system. Either way I was in for the long haul and luckily for me, had the resources for a comfortable leave of absence from life.

After a few minutes of chatting, the groups therapist walks in escorted by one of the floors MHT or Mental Health Technician. I came to know them as the therapists bodyguards since they were almost never absent during any kind of group therapy session or activity. They were usually large men and had the stance of a brick wall. They were both friendly and intimidating but usually greeted me with a smile. I think they knew I wasn’t about to cause any kind of trouble and if I did, they could certainly handle me.

“How is everyone today?” said Patty holding her clipboard.

Patty was one of three of the groups therapists that would take turn leading the group in it’s sessions. She was a taller woman, about 5′ 9″, 40-50 years old, short curly light brownish gray hair. She usually showed up wearing different color cardigans, polyester pants and black nursing shoes. She wore reading glasses that hung around her neck on a gold chain, putting them on when she referred to her clip board and off when addressing the group. She wasn’t at all intimidating but reminded me of a school teacher that I had in middle school and just as in school I had feared the inevitable.

“We have a new addition to our family if you hadn’t already met him.”

I could have crawled into a hole. I stood up nervously and waved around to everyone on the room. Luckily for me the introduction was quick and I sat down just as quickly as I stood. I could feel every eye on me for the next few seconds although it seemed more like an hour. When I finally started to look around the room, everyone had already disengaged me and were already beginning to make faces at one another in anticipation of who would be spilling their emotional guts in the middle of the floor. Directly across the room from me was Vikki. She had taken a seat next to Patty and had passed on the invitation to speak so Patty continued around the room and one by one the offer to vent was shot down. Just before Patty had come around to me, Kieth had a little something to say to the group.

“I’m gonna talk since no one else wants to and besides, the more I talk in here the quicker my doctor will let me out of this shit hole!”

There was so much bitterness and resentment coming from Kieth. You can feel all the negativity and the years of anger and frustration that he had gone through and continued to hold onto. Everyone in the room seemed to have been familiar with his story and many would roll their eyes as he was speaking. It was clear that Kieth was very vocal in group therapy only to appease his doctor but evidently it wasn’t enough and was denied discharge several times prior to that day.

“Tell us why you are so angry Kieth”, said Patty peering above her reading glasses that were resting on the end of her nose.

“I’m fuckin pissed because I have to be here in this God damned room with all of you mental fucks!” he said while squirming in his seat.

Kieth was angry but until that point I never realized just how angry and possibly disturbed he was. At the same time I was in no position to make a judgment without knowing his history and how he came to be there. He was never angry or bitter toward me, never showed any ill in my direction so I didn’t take his comment about “mental fucks” to heart. I was, however, a bit more connected with him knowing that he held much inside and couldn’t seem to find a way to get it out in a way that he could understand and process it better.

The more that Patty talked to him the more he seemed to get irritated which then put the MHT on guard. His mood began to escalate and with every passing second he became more intent on creating a scene. This seemed to be a pattern of his as evident by the position that the group took. Everyone seemed to start to squirm in their seats and began talking to each other about the comments that Kieth was making to the group. Soon, Sam, the MHT or bodyguard stood up in an attempt to secure the room and make sure that he was ready should Kieth’s next move become volatile.

“You people are nothing more than puppets for the doctors!” he said to Patty and Sam as he stood up to make his point.

“You all can’t even think for yourselves, you sit here with us thinking you know us and you all don’t know shit!”

“Either sit and calm down or you are going to need to go back to your room” said Sam calmly standing with his arms crossed.

“You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me….Where do you think your paycheck comes from” he yelled in Sams face.

Finally, Patty requested to Sam that he escort Kieth back to his room. Kieth didn’t resist but could also not resist getting one more dig in to the staff.

“You people don’t know shit about anything and you don’t give a shit about anyone here, it only matters that our doctors collect the insurance money to pay your sorry asses!” he said as he was walking out the door.

As the door closed behind Kieth, silence fell onto the room. You could literally hear a pin drop and no one dared to say a word until finally, Patty breaks the silence.

“So does anyone else have anything they want to get off their chest?” she says in an almost sarcastic voice.

The room filled with laughter for a few seconds, just enough to break the awkward silence and then Vikki decided that she wanted to speak out. Vikki and Kieth were buddies, it seemed that they had something in common as I had seen them chatting with one another in the recreation room and in other areas of the hospital.

“He’s a good guy” she said sitting in her chair in her usual position, legs up to her chest as she cradled them. ”He’s just misunderstood.”

That was all Vikki had to say and Patty extended her hand to Vikki’s arm. ”We know he’s a good guy Vikki, he just needs time.”

Finally the room was calm and a couple of the other residents decided that they wanted to speak a few words and the remaining time was spent in scattered conversation. I have to say that for my first day of group therapy, even though I had nothing to say, learned quite a bit pertaining to human behavior. Kieth had much to get off his chest that day and left quite an impression about not only his life but the questions that were burned into my mind that day. Who were my friends? Who could I really trust? Were the staff really there to help or were we just a source of income? It was only a matter of time before the answers to those questions would be answered but wouldn’t come until well after my extended rehabilitation at Colonial Hills.