Morning of Day 2
Along with the usual problems I have sleeping, not having a television in my room and sleeping on what can only be described as roughly 4 inches of foam it goes without saying that I did not sleep well despite the medicine they gave me to help me sleep. Combine this with watching my very first “Code White” and my anxiety had reached an unusually manageable all time high. I do not remember the thoughts that skipped about through my mind as I fell asleep that first night but I am sure my daughter was involved. I distinctly remember hugging the stuffed red fox plush of my daughters and breathing in a sickening whiff of stress sweat escaping from my armpits.
I awoke as Mike smacked my door with his hand and said ever so delighted “wake up buddy it’s time for breakfast!” My first thoughts were ones of wanting to leave but somewhere deep inside of me I knew being here was for the best. Those thoughts were kept at the forefront of my mind through the stray murmurs of everyone during breakfast. I cannot remember what we had for breakfast but I ate it because I was unusually hungry. My best guess was the medicine that helped me fall asleep had a side effect of increased appetite. As I handed my tray to the nurse and she checked to see how much I had ate before leaving the dining area I had a realization of my own emotional well being. It was a bittersweet thought that left me feeling hopeful as I headed back to my room… My problems were nowhere near as bad as I had thought when volunteering for this stay.
On the way to my room I was quickly grabbed by a nurse for a simple health evaluation. It was quick and distant. The doctor checking my vitals was the most indifferent man I had ever met in my life. While telling me that my heart rate was up I simply wondered if they realized that I was in a Psych-Ward. After shaking off the thoughts of how a doctor could seem to care so little when all of the nurses and social workers cared much more than they even needed to I stumbled into “Morning Activity”. This consisted of simple stretches and everyone stating what their goal for the day was while we watched the news. The same statement was repeated through each person, “today my goal is to go home”. Making her way to me the social worker seemed delighted at my response. After a brief moment of thought when I was asked what my goal was I responded in the most thoughtful and confident manner I could muster given the circumstance, “my goal is to get the very most out of being here so that when I leave I can start working towards my happiness”.
There was a slight lull in the day as my roommates began going back one at a time to speak to the psychiatrist. I filled this lull by walking up and down the hall trying to see if there was something worth looking at outside of the very few windows I had access too. There wasn’t. I sparked random conversations with nurses and other patients. Nothing of substance just things to keep the mind busy. The nurse alerted us that we were going to have group therapy in 15 minutes. I was excited about this because I had never participated in group but more so because it would finally be a chance to find out what everyone’s problems were. On the way to group I told the lady cleaning the rooms that I desperately needed to get a message to the outside world. She waited to laugh until I smiled assuring her it was just a joke.
Group went well except that no one really wanted to talk. I thought back to the days of my public speaking class and decided that in this moment I might as well use something I learned. I conversed with the social worker who led the group. I directed everyone’s attention toward me when I gave the analogy of an old work truck being used over and over but never maintained until the day that the work truck finally quit running. Until the day when it broke down because no one deemed it important enough to take care of it. To me this analogy seemed simple. We need to take care of ourselves and not just physically, but emotionally. “Everyone has problems, that is a given but not everyone cares enough for them-self to fix those problems!” I preached poetically. I felt surprised to look over and see the woman with cuts up and down her arms slightly sobbing. With this I felt it best to let the social worker take lead again. After I quit talking I zoned out. I looked around and noticed a few people with tears in their eyes. I hate making people cry. Luckily the nurse interrupted us to let me know I was next to be seen by the psychiatrist.
I practically ran down the hall to speak to the psychiatrist. I was so happy to finally tell her that this was really all just a misunderstanding and I made a mistake coming here. I knew she would clearly see things my way once I explained that I did not belong there. After I pleaded my case with the best counterfeit smile I could muster on my face, one that I was sure stretched from ear to ear, I sit back and awaited her response. She leaned forward lowering her glasses and finally ceasing to write on the paper next to the stack of manila envelopes and without any elaboration said “I will see you tomorrow”. My heart sank. I have never wanted to jump out of a window more in my life than I did in that very moment. I felt helpless so I quickly made my way back to group therapy. I walked in and sit down just in time to have the social worker say that group went well and thank me for sharing. I stood back up and was stopped by the woman with cuts on her arms. She had changed back to her outside clothes so the cuts were not as noticeable. She grabbed me and said “Mason man what you said really hit home with me that was some deep stuff”. Not only was this older woman an awesome hippie chick but she was evidently on a first name basis with me. We were both rushed out of the dining area were first snack break and group took place simultaneously. I paused briefly to talk to the social worker. His name was John and he seemed like he could barely contain himself, for what reason, I do not know. I hoped he wasn’t like this all the time. His energy level was much more than I could bear. I asked him what I needed to do in order to start heading up group therapy once I left. His answer was oddly given to me in passing though we were both standing still. I was told to start contacting different places such as nursing homes and asking if they thought a volunteer basis group therapy would be something they were interested in before he began to walk off. I felt empty in that moment. John then stopped two long steps into his pace and turned around to me. “Mason I think you would be great for leading group therapy. You really helped push things along today and made some real connections. You are an intelligent young man.” He then turned and continued his purposeful stride as he walked off.
For the sake of the true individuals involved all names have been changed.
Preventing the absurdly unpreventable. 