She just wanted to be with him. She planned to do anything she could to be with him. She went to the therapists to explain this, and they were very unhelpful. She was forced to act drastically. She decided that the only thing she could do was the most rash and difficult option. It wasn't supposed to escalate to the point that it did, but she felt like she had no other choice.
She was told that the only way to keep him with her was to go. The doctor on the phone made it sound like such a nice place, and so did the woman. She thought everything was going to go according to plan.
She was transported to the hospital in an ambulance. It was the first time she had ever been in an ambulance. Although he was with her, she already regretted the decision. She felt panicked, but she new if she let on, it would only make the situation worse. She was on a stretcher, sitting up and strapped in.
When she got to the hospital, she was taken to a room with only a bed fitted in a paper sheet, and a chair. It was bereft of art or color, and the only sign of life were grubby hand prints on the wall. It gave her a strong sense of foreboding. She waited for a long time, but she couldn't tell how long because there was no clocks. Finally a man in uniform came in to speak to her. He asked routine questions, and she answered them truthfully. He told her another person would be in to talk to her. While she was waiting, a nurse came in to take her vitals. The blood pressure cuff really hurt. The nurse treated her cautiously, as if she were some sort of feral creature she was sure would bite her at any second. After she was done, the nurse asked her to take of all her clothes, put them into a bag, and put on a hospital gown. It was grey, and spotted with purple and teal dolphins. It made her feel choked.
The second man in uniform came and asked her about the same questions, and told her it was not his job to make sure that she could stay with her husband. Following this man was a woman in uniform. This woman also said it wasn't her job to keep her husband with her.
At this point, she started to let her panic out. She became desperate. She started crying for her husband, she needed to make everyone understand how important this was to her. She knew that she wasn't normal, that she made everyone uncomfortable with the amount of affection she held for her husband. People described their relationship as "dependent"....
The doctors told her that she had to volunteer herself to be committed for a few days. If she did not volunteer, the doctors said the police would come get her and that they would take her to another hospital and she would stay there for an amount of time they could not determine. She knew what was expected. She doubted that anyone would rather be taken against their will in handcuffs to someplace they didn't know. She was asked multiple times if she would volunteer herself, but she didn't want to give anyone the satisfaction of having power over her, but she knew she had to. Eventually, after being asked multiple times, she said yes, as spitefully and harshly as she could. She put every ounce of hatred for the uniforms and their misplaced worry. How could she expect them to understand? She felt silly for even expecting other people to help her. The only person that could ever help her was her husband, and he couldn't this time.
After a really long while, they rolled a wheelchair to the door and asked her if she was ready. Wordlessly, she sat in it, being careful to quell her tears. She wasn't going to look weak anymore.
She was taken into the elevator, to the 5th floor. The mental health ward. The loony bin.
When she was wheeled in, she could feel everyone looking at her. They were all dressed in brown pajamas and robes with snaps. The ward looked like something out of a movie, but much more terrifying. Her heart was pounding, but she was determined not to cry. Her vitals were taken again, and her husband was asked to leave. Her heart actually felt like her heart sank. The loneliness squeezed her heart.
She was taken into a bathroom and asked to get naked again so she could be dressed like the others. A uniform took her bra away because it had underwire in it. A white hospital bracelet was put on her and she was ushered into what looked like some sort of conference room and was sat down in an ugly pink chair with no cushions.
She was asked more questions and she signed papers. Papers that said they had the right to restrain her and put her in a room by herself. They gave her a stinking tray filled with bland and tasteless chunks. She choked down as much of it as she could. She didn't want to make it look like she had no appetite; that was a sign of depression. Someone came into the room and informed them that her husband was there. Once all the papers were signed, she wanted to see him.
She was told she had to have blood taken first, however. Two uniforms took her into a tiny nurse's room and sat her on the brown table draped in paper. She jokingly asked if anyone had ever thrown up while having their blood taken, and the uniforms replied that they hadn't. One arm got pricked and the blood just stopped flowing. The other arm got pricked. Before she actually believed it, she said she felt sick. But then she felt dizzy. Each second that ticked by made her feel more dizzy. She felt as though she had been spinning for hours. She told the uniforms, and told them she was going to throw up. They held a bag up to her face and let her retch. She felt her eyes rolling back into her head and was sure people were talking but could not understand. She suddenly felt so tired. The next thing she knew she was brought her assigned water bottle to wash down the bile. When she became more aware of her surroundings, she touched her forehead and realized she had been sweating bullets. All she could think about was visiting hours and that her husband was waiting for her.
She wiped herself off and let herself be escorted into the common area. The uniforms buzzed him in. They took anything away from him that was slightly pointed. They sat down at the most secluded table. He told her he loved her and started to cry. He also told her he was sorry. She couldn't be sentimental because she knew she would start crying, and she couldn't cry in front of everyone. She had to keep her resolve and be strong. It hurt her knowing that he would be sleeping alone tonight. He wasn't usually in that circumstance.
He was told he had to leave again, and she was left to herself. She stayed at the table, and stared at the schedule posted on the wall for an hour or two. Then she was asked to gather around with the others. She was told that isolation makes depression worse. She got the picture. If she wanted out, she needed to miraculously recover and banish all signs of unhappiness. She sat with the others, and was told to state her name, why she was there, and her current mood. Mostly everyone there was there for depression, one for anger management, one for PTSD from sexual abuse, and one from heroin addiction. Then it was time for bed.
Her roommate had tried to commit suicide by overdosing about 15 times. Before she got into the room, her roommate had already gone to bed, which was thankful because she didn't think she could stand talking anymore. She laid down in a bed that had no pillow, and was only dressed with a thin sheet and hospital blanket that smelled like hard water. She laid there for hours, just trying not to make noise and pretend to be asleep when the uniforms stood in the window to check the rooms. She finally fell asleep, and when she woke, she felt rested, but realized it was not morning. There was no clock in the room, and she did not know what time it is. She really had to go to the bathroom, but was afraid of waking her roommate. She waited until she was in pain to use the restroom, and then laid back down. She waited even longer, for she didn't know whether she would get in trouble for being up. She saw another patient through the window pacing the hall, and ventured out to see what time it was. Unfortunately, she had another hour and fifteen minutes until five forty-five, which was when everyone was supposed to wake up. She went back into her room and waited more.
When it was five forty-five, everyone was instructed to form a line to get their vitals taken. It was then back to the common area to stare at each other. They waited two more hours to get food, which was unsweetened oatmeal and carton milk, and an old slice of bread. They then had a few little classes on how to properly communicate with people. Then came "art therapy". Everyone was directed to draw their current mood and the mood that they would like to be. Everyone's current mood was dark and gloomy, but she made sure she did not portray how scared and worried she was. When she shared, she said she was on a "roller coaster that only goes up".
After art therapy, the doctors called her into the conference room and asked her all the same questions. The doctor asking the questions had a tick, and kept twitching his head to the side. She was annoyed that this was the person "treating" her. Through the jerking, he asked if she was she having any thoughts of suicide. Was she in a better place? What was she going to do if she was feeling like hurting herself? How did she ever get over her husband ever being gone in the first place? Was talking always hard for her? How was her relationship with her father as a child opposed to now? Why did she feel like she didn't want to be alone?
Of course, she lied. She knew what the doctors wanted to hear, and made her best effort to be convincing. Her only goal was to leave that place and never come back. She answered all the questions optimistically and eagerly. She made it sound like she was invincible, and now that she knows how it would affect others, she would never even consider it. She told them it was entirely possible for her to handle now, and that she knew what she needed to do.
