By Monday morning I had spoken enough to the other patients/inmates
over meals that I now felt known to them and them to me. So when breakfast arrived late I was able to
offer to “watch over” their food. To be the food police. They all smoked cigarettes and there are only
certain times you can leave the ward to go have them. With breakfast late they were going to miss
their breakfast smoke. God forbid! But they couldn’t just leave their food on
the table. Remember there was one kid in
there, “Shuffles” I called him. Rail
thin, tall as tall can be and already he appeared to get double the meals we
got but still, it didn’t stop him from stealing people’s food I was told. So I offered to stand guard for Twitchy,
Jumpy, Gappy and Dad. And guard I
did.
Shuffles and I ate at the same time. As did all the other non-smoking inmates. When I was done eating I grabbed a crossword puzzle book from
the book shelves just outside the kitchen and planted myself back at the table
to stand guard. It took no less than
five minutes for me to notice Shuffles making his way back into the
kitchen. He checked the tray holder for
extra food then made his way around the table.
As he passed Dad’s tray he casually, as if nothing was happening, picked
up Dad’s muffin and tried to keep walking.
I barked out, “nuh huh, put that back, that is not yours!” He stopped in his tracks, looked at me as if
I wasn’t there and dropped the muffin back on the plate. He shuffled his way out of the kitchen now
understanding stealing wasn’t gonna happen on my watch.
I breathed a sigh of relief when he left, I wasn’t sure how my “no no”
was going to be taken.
When the others returned I told them what happened. I explained to Dad that the kid did in fact
try to steal his muffin and Dad proceeded to cut the muffin in half, butter it, and eat it. I threw up a little in my mouth. The kid wasn’t all that clean. Had he touched my tray I am sure I would have
given him all that was on it. Upon the
urging of the others I went and reported Shuffles behaviour to the Nurse’s Station. From that day forward if someone was going to
be late for a meal or in therapy the Nurse’s would take their tray into the
Nursing Station. I guess this kid was
really out of control with his food. It
was pathological. I could only imagine
what food was replacing in his mind. He was
constantly at the fridge eating crackers and jam. He'd open up one of those little two packs of saltine crackers one
after the other covering them in jam and shoving them in his mouth obsessively
like. All the inmates had actually
started offering the kid their extra food instead of placing it in the middle
of table to try to stop him from stealing.
He never spoke a word, he would just take the offered food and scarf it
down.
It was really strange to me how none of the women or older
men shuffled the hallways but two young men did constantly. It was very obsessive behaviour. They couldn’t stop themselves. Shuffles only went from his room next to
mine, to the kitchen, then the nursing station and back. Baller on the other hand walked every step of
the entire place. From one end of the
long hall to the TV room where he would sit for the count of 3, to the kitchen,
to the patio, to the nurse’s station, and down the hallway again. It was later I was told confidentially (and
probably shouldn’t have been) that both boys were schizophrenic and self-medicating
with street drugs before they came in. Not
only were they sobering up off street drugs but while their schizophrenia drugs
kicked in they were hearing voices. The
hallway walks were because they couldn’t “shut off” the voices. It wasn’t hard for me to say to myself “things
could be worse” upon hearing that. I
think we all can don’t you?
Group therapy was cancelled on Monday. I couldn’t believe I found myself saying, “Damn
I was looking forward to this”. It was
only because it would kill the time really.
Group continued on Tuesday and Wednesday. One was led by a therapist, another by a
social worker. The therapist lead one
actually helped a bit. I found myself
learning things and offering up all kinds of wisdom for the others in the
group. It’s what I do. I found the therapist saying, “That’s right
Nicolle, that’s exactly what I was looking for” more often than not. Yay me!
Not only did I know more than I thought but it was good for the old self
esteem too. The social worker group was
more informational and about all the programs available in the Mental Health Unit
for out patients. And addicts
alike. The hospital offers ongoing
therapy in the group format for mental illness and addiction. I have only been once but will continue to. It’s all one can really find in this
environment these days. One on one
therapy is hard to come by especially with a psychiatrist.
I found it really interesting to discover that 80% of the
world’s addicts are actually suffering from some form of mental illness,
whether it be schizophrenia, bi polar, or plain old depression. Unlike the other 20%, the 80% self-medicate
their illnesses away. It is very
common, more common than not. Think
about it, when you are down doesn’t a nice drink ease the pain? 80% of addicts just can’t stop at one
drink. What about that show
Intervention? Have you watched it? All the people on the show had tragic pasts
leading to depression and addiction and/or suffered from some other mental
illness. I really took in how tragic
addiction is when I was in the hospital, it became so clear how awful a
struggle it truly is. I think it’s why
it became so easy for me to just stop taking the little pain medication I did
take. I wasn’t going to “get there”. Not to where these poor people were. I was able to use that week to just
stop taking all the medications I had been prescribed. There were people in there specifically for
the purpose of giving up some form of self-medication. Both Dad and Twitchy were in there for pain
medication addiction. And I mean in a
big way, not simple old 5 mg Percocet pills like myself but 100 mgs in addition to Fentanyl pain
patches and alcohol. To look
at them both, especially Dad, you would never have guessed that they both found
their way into the hospital because they accidentally lost track of how much drugs there
were taking. Watching them
being weaned off their pain medication was really hard to see. One day they would walk the hallways like they
owned the world, smiles on their faces.
The next day they would be shuffling along, barely moving their bodies,
frowns and in some cases tears in their eyes.
You could easily see how quickly these pain medications become a
problem. I just got lucky. I had a really strong will power and never
gave into the urge to try anything new or stronger. I was just too scared of what I was already
taking.
I never did find out why Grampy was in the hospital. I can only assume there was some sort of
Mental Illness struggle behind his kind old eyes. Gappy was in there because she was an addict
she inferred, not sure of the other struggles in her life, I didn’t ask. But she did mention she wouldn’t be leaving
the hospital until she found a place to live so I can only assume she was on
the streets. Jumpy had tried to kill
herself. For the third time she informed
me casually. She suffered with Manic
Depression, much like Bi Polar. She was
very sweet. I think she’d been in the
hospital for a week at least, with a week to go. Considering the long termers in there, I was
lucky to be out in the 5 days after I arrived I kept thinking to myself. Cusack was obviously in a ton of pain
mentally. He left the Tuesday I was in
there but to see his arms. They were
just covered in cuts. You don’t normally
see a boy cutting, it’s more common in girls.
There had to be a lot of pain in that poor boys mind.
By the time I left on Wednesday I considered the girls,
Twitchy and Jumpy comrades in arms.
Outside of the hospital, I am sure none of us would find the other
having anything in common but inside, through tears we found a bond. Twitchy lent me a book from her personal collect to read the size of a
car. I managed to power through that
bitch in 3 days! It's not hard when you have 10 hours a day to read. Jumpy and I found
ourselves playing rounds of cards on Wednesday as I waited to be sprung from
the joint. As I mentioned before, it was
received with a round of laughs when I shared how ironic I found it that Jumpy
and I were playing Crazy Eights in the Loonie Bin. We both found it hysterical. It’s funny how you can be brought together by
something outside of your control when otherwise you’d have nothing in
common. Our lives were common by one thing, a stay in a Mental Ward. While I am writing about it to you folks to
help you understand all about that world if you should know people suffering,
it’s not really something I want at the forefront of my mind. It’s not a place I wish to go back to save
for the outpatient therapy.
What I learned in the hospital is that Mental Illness is
nothing to be ashamed of. And I am
not. I spent time in the Loonie Bin and
I am okay with that. I needed to. I needed help. My medications were no longer working and had
I stayed home I might have tried to hurt myself again. I was not above the Mental Ward, I was just
like everyone else in there, suffering.
I was in fact lucky to be as well off as I was. On the last day, as I played cards with
Jumpy, Shuffles came in all showered and in washed clothes and he plopped down
right next to us, looked us in the eyes and said, “whatcha playin’?” His medication had kicked in. He was clean and sober. I wish you could have seen the difference in
this kid from even the day before. I had
it alright by comparison. The hospital
have resources in many cases that can help people suffering with Mental Illness
and Addiction that I would never have known had I not gone in. I am going to be taking courses in
Mindfulness and Self Esteem that last up to 8 weeks long. I look forward to them and hope that again, I
can see I am just like everyone else in there, struggling with my own issues
whether I have anything in common with them or not. I am not above anyone and their
problems. Addiction is a tricky little
bitch and I am very blessed to have had the self-control and will power to not
have fallen deeper down that rabbit hole, very lucky. I feel very sorry for addicts, I cannot
imagine giving in to that urge. Actually
I can, and that’s the problem, I can.
What about you? Ever
think how easy it could be to make your problems disappear with drugs or
alcohol? Ever worry you are doing
that? If you worry, likely you are
losing yourself a bit. Look into your
local hospital because they likely have a free group therapy with your name
written all over it. You don’t have to
go all gangbusters like me and get yourself committed. Trust me, it’s not that hard to go to a group
therapy class. It’s an hour out of your
day, how bad can that be?
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