Now, that I had a grasp on who I was my mind shifted to the next logical question; where I was? The surroundings were unfamiliar but in my present state almost anything would appear unusual. I was laying in a bed, perhaps my own bed I thought, but it didn't seem to be so. Some type of uncomfortable bracelet that stretch across my wrist and ankles restrained my arms and legs. I attempted to climb out of the bed but the restraints were unyielding. I was a prisoner. I looked around the room for answers. It was a small room with out any other furnishings. The walls were white and bare. Clues to my present whereabouts were scarce. There was a metal post beside the bed that held a bottle filled with an unknown liquid. A tube descended from the bottle and connected to a needle into my arm. A hospital I thought. That must be it. Was I injured? I didn't seem to be, but since the bracelets made mobility impossible it was difficult to be sure. What was the reason for these restraints? Were their purposes to prevent me from further injuries? The reforming sensations in my mind were beginning to make me fell dizzy. Maybe, a symptom of my unknown illness I surmise. I felt very weak but there was no physical pain.
Then, I remembered the trip. I had been riding to Alaska with my friends. Where were they, I wondered? Perhaps I had an accident on my motorcycle? My thoughts kept returning to the restraints. My memory may have been foggy but I didn't recall ever seeing these types of devices used in hospitals. In a movie long ago, I thought, that's where I'd seen these restraints before. One of the patients was restrained in bed just as I am now. What was that movie? "Flying Beyond the Wilderness"...no that wasn't it. "I Flew Over like a Bird"...no, but it was something like that. Then, it came to me, "One Flew over the Cuckoos Nest." Jack Nicholson great actor, great movie. Let me think..what was it about.... patients in a mental ward, that's it. With this recollection, I became very scared. I understood...I was a patient in a mental hospital. Not an actor in a movie but an actual patient. That had to be it. Although, I'd never been to a mental hospital the similarity between the room I was in and my images of the movie were to close. But how? Why?
There was probably a good reason I was here.. I didn't have the slightest idea how I got here so almost anything might have occurred. What was my last recollection before this room? We had been riding for several days. We were out West. We had traveled across most of the United States. Bryan had gotten in to some fight with a guy who was trying to rip him off. He shot him...no that wasn't right...he had sprayed him with pepper gas. Yeah, that's it. But that wasn't the last thing that happened. Amy was very upset about something, but I couldn't remember what. Marty came and he too was very unhappy...but why? Everyone had seemed to be concerned about me for some reason. Probably for the same reason that brought me here, I thought. This was about as far I got in my feeble attempts of re-constructing what had transpired. For hours I laid there trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Then, the door to the room swung open.
A woman entered the room. She began to approach me but seem to be unaware that I was even there. She carried a bucket in one hand and a sponge in the other. It seemed to me that she had come to water the plants, but there were no plants in the room. She glanced briefly into my eyes. She was astounded shock by what she saw. It was obvious that whatever she had expected was not what she witnessed.
"How my God," she said it in a loud shocked voice. "Can you hear me? Are you awake?"
"Yeah, I can hear you fine. Why am I here? What is this place?"
"I'm sorry, I have to get someone. This wasn't suppose to happen."
With these words she abruptly left the room. Her state of confusion seemed to even surpass my own. Maybe, she was another patient that had unknowingly wandered into the room. She had been totally surprised by me, as if I was not suppose to there, yet the room in every other way seemed familiar to her. What was it that had startled her so? Maybe, she had mistaken this room for her own. She was someone I felt would be more accustomed to being restrained to a bed in a mental hospital. Her reactions seemed to be inappropriate and chaotic. Why was it I was being held prison while she roamed about freely?
Suddenly, she reappeared but this time with two other people. One was a burly black man that seemed unconcerned with the "sponge lady" hysteria. He looked as though this was all part of his daily routine. He observed me with a bored expression of someone watching a caged animal. The only trace of concern in his face was to whether it was possible the animal might somehow escape. I had little doubt that if I had broken free in that moment, the burly black man would have snapped my neck without hesitation. In fact, I believe he would have done so with a great amount of pleasure. I turned my eyes away from his cold menacing look of disassociation.
The other person now in the room was a woman of extremely stern features. She reminded me of one of my Sociology professors from college. She gazed at me as if I was some kind of specimen that had shattered her interpretation toward the laws of probability. She carried a clipboard that was only slightly less rigid then her disposition. Still, I realized that between her or "the burly black man"; she was definitely the less of the two evils. The burly guy would have no qualms in killing me while her interest was only in examining me. This is Nurse Rachid, I thought to myself. As I looked into her stern expressionless face, I was sure that her intent was to find and erase whatever it was that had caused my behavior to deviate from her precise calculations.
"So, I see we are awake," the stern women said. How are you feeling?"
"I feel fine. Why? Have I been in an accident."
"Do you feel like you've been in accident?"
"No, like I said, I feel fine but why am I here?"
"Why, do you think you're here?"
"I don't know, if I did I wouldn't have asked you. Do you always answer questions with questions?"
"Are you becoming upset? Do you feel anger toward me?" Her stern faced showed it's first traces of emotions when she asked me this question. She seemed to be enjoying her ability to frustrate me.
"Well, I don't really know you, I said. But I must admit your replies to my question are annoying. Do you wish to anger me?"
"I do not wish you to be angry, Tim. I want us to work together to find better ways for you to express your feelings."
"Why? What makes you have such an interest in what I feel? Who are you?"
"Do you know where you are, Tim."
"No, not really, I mean it appears to be a hospital and since I'm in restraints, I would guess a mental hospital."
"That is remarkable. This is indeed a breakthrough. Yes, Tim you are in a Psychiatric Hospital and in all the time you have been with us this is the first time you have recognized this fact. I think we are making real progress.
Do you think you might be able to remember who I am on your own."
"Well, I've been kind of preoccupied with trying to remember who I am."
The "Stern One" laughed when I said this. I guess she was right, we were making real progress. I didn't know she was even capable of laughing.
"My name is Doctor Miller, Tim. Do you remember me at all?
"No, I'm sorry, I don't. Have we spoken before?"
"Well, Tim I have been your Doctor since you became a patient with us over a year ago. We have met many times but in many ways this is the first time we have talked. During are previous visits you had been very distressed and unaware of my presence. I am happy to see you are feeling better now."
"What did you say? I have been here over a year...My God...How?.....Why?
"Tim, we have a lot to discuss and there will be time to do so, but I do not think it's a good idea for you to try and absorb to much at once."
"Time? You just told me I've been here a year! Don't you think it's about time I find out what's going on."
"I believe this is becoming overwhelming for you, to continue further would be counterproductive to the progress made today. Try to relax. Get some rest and we will talk again tomorrow."
"Wait! I need some answers." I attempted again to climb from the bed but the restraints held. The burly black guy pushed me back as I squirmed haphazardly for freedom.
"I wouldn't if I were you," he whispered as his large hands easily made my efforts futile.
"Tim please understand I am working in your interest. We will talk again soon but for now you must rest."
"I understand I 'm being held prisoner by you and your goon here," I screamed out to her.
Doctor Miller gave me the look that adults give children when they misbehave and exited the room. I was left there with burly man and I was afraid. I was expecting him to put the pillow over my head as soon as Doctor Miller was out of hearing distance. Instead he just leaned down close to me and looked me straight in the eye.
"You call me a goon again, boy, and you just might have a little accident. Now, you wouldn't want that to happen..Would you?"
Has eyes were cold and lifeless. I believed he was indeed capable of arranging accidents. In fact, he probably had done so before.
"No, sir, I said. I'm sorry."
"Well, good. Now, you go to beddy-by like the good Doctor said."
"Yes, I will."
"Good, I think we're going to get along just fine. You remember nothing has changed between us. Just like before, our little talks our only between us. You got that?
"Sure just between us that suits be fine, I said."
"I thought it would be. Nighty- night and don't let the bed bugs bite."
After he had left the room I noticed I was lying in a puddle of sweat. The guy was scary. Had I done something to cause him despise me? What did he mean when he said, "just like before...?
What other conversations had we had?
I remembered him somehow. I was sure that we had met before under very unusual conditions. The burly guy name was Gordon. Did I remember that or had I heard his name? It was at night in some place I couldn't recall. Maybe the hospital I was walking through dark corridors not knowing where I was going. I entered a room and in the corner. I saw Gordon and another man. The other guy was performing fellatio on Gordon. Gordon had seemed very surprised and embarrassed when I entered the room. Gordon and the guy were standing by a bed similar to the one I was laying in right now. I remember apologizing and trying to exit the room but Gordon had stopped me. He warned me that if I ever mentioned what I'd seen harm would come to me. At the time it didn't seem real anyhow so I agreed not to say anything and left the room.
I don't know when this event occurred or even if it did but it would explain allot. Maybe I was in this hospital and somehow had entered into another patient room one night. Perhaps Gordon was forcing patients in the hospital to give him "blow jobs." As I recall the guy performing the act didn't seem to be enjoying himself. In fact, he didn't even seem to be aware of what he was doing. At the time this occurred, if it did occur, I must have been either heavily medicated or mentally unbalanced. I could recall the event but it was like a dream, as if I said it all through a fog.
Judging from Gordon's reaction to me moments earlier there was a good probability this had occurred. Regardless I had no plans of mentioning it to anyone else. Even if the memory were real no one would believe me. I mean look where I was. Besides, if I did tell Dr. Miller or someone else I'm sure Gordon would carry out his threat.
Hell, I had too many other things to worry about anyhow. Like how I got here? What has happen outside the hospital since I came here? How was I going to take piss? I saw a bed pan siting at the bottom edge of the bed but I couldn't understand how I was supposed to use it? Then I noticed there seem to be something attached to my "Dick" maybe the bedpan wouldn't be necessary. I managed to shift myself around enough so I could examine the situation more closely. There was some type of plastic container for my urine to flow in to so peeing wasn't going to be a problem. Now, if I had to take a shit that was another matter. I would either have to be unstrapped or the bedpan would need to be placed underneath me. Either way it would require assistance from someone else. I was glad that a bowel movement wasn't necessary at the present time. How had I been managing these things during my time at this place?
What the hell had I been doing at this place, I wondered? What did the doctor say, a year? It was scary to think about so I tried not to. Hopefully, she would explain it all to me tomorrow. Still, it was bizarre. I mean a year out of a person's life can't just disappear. I needed answers but was terrified of what they might be.
Pissing into the plastic contraption for some reason seemed to relax me. It seem natural and it probably was, this was most likely the way I'd been peeing for the past year. It's amazing that during the time my mind had been God knows where, the daily maintenance of my body continues oblivious and indifferent to any problems my mind may have been having. Of course I realized that it was my mind that controlled these functions but that made it seem even stranger.
My damn brain apparently didn't provide me with one rational thought in the past year but it made damn sure all-vital organs were functioning uninterrupted. My mind seemed as though it was a separate entity with it's own hidden agenda. I was just being carried along on the ride. My mind always seemed to be working on something else and would only grudgingly allow me to focus on reality. Still, even with this feeling of disconnection with my own mind, I was sure that I was not mentally ill. Regardless, of what had been occurring in the past year, I was as sane as the next guy; which wasn't saying much.
Somehow I had fallen asleep, when I opened my eyes Dr. Miller was again in the room, without burly guy I was happy to see.
"Tim,..Tim are you awake, Dr. Miller said in a soothing voice.
I was starting to feel that she wasn't as bad as I first expected. Her stern exterior probably masked a life of pain. I wondered if anyone had ever listened to her problems.
"Yeah, I'm awake. How are you doing?"
"Well I'm fine, Tim but more importantly how are you doing?"
Did she really believe that it was more important how I was doing then how she was, I hoped not?
"I'm fine, I think but I guess you're the one who will decide that?"
"Oh, no Tim I can't decide that only you can."
"O.K., then I'm fine. Can I go home now?"
"Well, I think it's bit early for that but we can discuss it if you would like. Do you know where you live?"
"Right now in some Mental Hospital but my home is in Pennsylvania by the University I attend.... that is did attend."
"That's right Tim. It is truly remarkable the turn around you've made."
"That brings up my first question; what have I been doing during the time in here, I asked."
"Well, yesterday is the only time we've really had a two way conversation."
"So, what have I been doing? Laying here in silence?"
"No, not silence.... defiantly not silence, you have been very vocal during your stay. Quiet desperation is certainly not your way. The problem is you haven't been very coherent. Your emotional outburst have differed but never were you silent. What you did say though had little meaning. Your thought pattern was very disorient."
"Why, do you have me tied down like some kind of animal?"
"I afraid, as well as being very vocal, at times you acted out your aggression physically."
"You mean I struck people," I asked.
"Well, there were one or two incidents when you tried, but mostly you took your hostility out on inanimate objects. The restraints can come off as soon as I'm sure you are no longer a danger to yourself or others. As far as leaving the Hospital, I believe that is still a few weeks away. There is much we need to discuss but we can work on planing your departure. How does that sound?"
"Look, I'm sure you mean well but you said yourself that there wasn't much meaning to anything I've said while I've been here, so I'm not sure how you think you can help me?"
"Your words may have had little meaning, Tim but your actions and state of mind have told me a lot I believe you are suffering from Paranoid- Schizophrenia, this is a very serious condition that needs to be treated. You have been on medication since your arrival and we must make certain that you continue with your Meds and treatment. Otherwise, you will most likely suffer a relapse."
"Medication...psyc drugs, God that's probably half my problem right there."
"Tim, that isn't true they'll essential to your recovery."
"Whatever... Could you tell me something?"
"I'll try to answer all the questions you have."
"Why was I brought here in the first place?"
"As I said you are suffering a disease, just because it effects your brain doesn't make it any less of a disease say then cancer or something else."
"So, your saying I just started to go nuts."
"Well, there were catalysts, I believe that spurred the onset of your symptoms but the disease was always there."
"Catalyst... What catalyst?"
"The break-up of your relationship with Elizabeth for instance."
The mention of her name immediately invoked longing and pain.
"Also, there was your hallucinogenic drug use and...your father's illness," Dr. Miller said.
"Dad that's right, he was the one with cancer...how is he?"
"Tim, this is going to be painful for you but I'm sorry to say both of your parents are deceased."
I felt a stinging sorrow inside myself and began to cry but I was not overwhelmed, somehow I already knew. The news of their deaths somehow was not news at all...I already knew.
"Mom, committed suicide when Dad died? I asked.
"Yes, but how did you know that...we never discussed it. Your sister Amy said you had been told but she was sure you were not aware because of your state of mind at the time."
"I guess, I was aware," I said.
"Yes, I suppose. Would you like some time to yourself?"
"No, that isn't necessary...it's sad but not unexpected. Besides, I believe they are still alive in another form...a better form."
"I was told you were an Atheist," Tim.
"I am."
"Well, yes.. I'm sorry," DR. Miller said somewhat ill at ease. That doesn't mean you can't believe there isn't some kind of life after death. Does it?"
"No, it doesn't but I don't. It's death I don't believe in, at least not anymore. Life is eternal."
"That's a very interesting perspective is that why you are showing so little emotion to the news of your parent's deaths? Or are you suppressing your feelings?"
"No,at least, I don't think so? Like I said, I already knew."
"Well, I think in time it would be productive for us to return to this topic."
"Tell me Doctor, what happened to me? Did I just go nuts? Was I violent? Did I hurt someone?"
"No, Tim you weren't violent and you didn't harm anyone. You just lost touch with your surroundings and began to believe people were conspiring against you."
"What happen to Marty, Amy, Bryan, Bill and Tina?"
"You remember them all now, that's very good. Bill, Bryan and Tina continued on the trip and reached Alaska."
"What about Marty and Amy?"
"They discontinued the trip to attend your parents funeral. Bill, Bryan and Tina had wanted to stop to attend the funeral but your brother and sister persuaded them to continue their trip. I have some other news about your friends; Bryan and Tina are now happily married and living in West Virginia."
"That's wild!" How about Bill what's he up to?"
"Well, I really haven't heard from Bill but I'm told he is an investment banker on Wall Street. Bill really hasn't stayed in touch with your other friends. I guess he has a hectic schedule with such a responsible position."
"How about Marty and Amy? How are they?"
"Why, they're both fine. Marty has visited you faithfully every week since your arrival. Do you remember seeing Marty here?"
"No, but then other then yesterday, I don't remember anything about the time I've spent here. How long did you say it's been?"
"A year and about two months" Dr. Miller said with a look of concern.
"What about Amy? How is she doing?"
"Amy has visited twice since your arrival. Of course she lives much farther away then Marty."
"Yeah, where the hell is this place located anyhow?"
"You're in Oregon, Tim. Only about a hundred miles from your brother's place."
"Geeze, I am a ways from home. But I guess, since no one's been home in my head for awhile it doesn't really matter."
"Tim you have an illness there is nothing to be ashamed of."
"I'm not ashamed, actually I feel pretty good. I guess the rest has agreed with me."
"Tim you haven't been resting, you haven't slept well at all here. If it wasn't for the medication, you might never sleep. You've been in a highly aggravated mental state since you arrived. You must take your condition seriously, if you are to recover."
As I looked into her eyes I understood what I needed to do. I had to take Dr. Miller very seriously, regardless of what I really believed. I had to pretend to see everything Dr. Miller's way.
"I know, I have an illness Dr. Miller but I am feeling better."
"Yes, you've made great progress in the last couple days but we don't want to rush it. We can work to alleviate the symptoms of your illness but the disease will always be with you."
I nodded agreeably, while thinking what a load of shit her diagnosis was.
Dr. Miller couldn't explain what had occurred, so she simply labeled me and placed me in a category she could understand. In a way I suppose this was what we all do when we can't understand something. We assign it a place in some type of order so we can understand it. I wondered how many of the so-called mentally ill fates were also decided in this manner. It didn't really matter what mentally ill label they placed on you the methods they used to cure the problems were pretty much the same. They would administer large doses of dangerous chemicals, that they called medication. Basically the drugs were intended to limit your ability to think. Less thinking, less problems, the rationale went and in some cases it worked quite well. My feeling was that it wasn't a good idea to dull your senses, especially during a time of crises.
I had always thought my mind had had its own agenda but, I never felt it was working against me. I felt its purpose was to help me. It was for this reason that I was not that concerned as to what had transpired over the last year. What ever had occurred I was confident there was a good reason for it. I had a lot of faith in my unconscious but I never knew why? It plotted the course and I followed its way. I would tell Dr. Miller anything she wanted to here, as long as it served to hasten my departure from the hospital.
"I have a surprise for you, Tim. I called your brother and sister and informed them of your progress they both will be here later today. Your sister is flying in all the way from Vermont. I have the feeling this is one visit you will remember," Dr. Miller said smiling.
"Yeah, seeing Marty and Amy would be nice. When are they suppose to get here?"
"It will still be an hour or so. Do you think it would be O.K. if we talk till then?"
"Sure its O.K. with me. What do you want to talk about."
"Let's start with how you're feeling about yourself for now. Are you happy with your present circumstances."
"No, not really but I understand there isn't to much I can do about it."
"What do you mean," Dr. Miller asked.
"It seems to be you got me in some what of an advantage. I have no idea what has even occurred in my life this last year. While you spent that time evaluating my behavior during that time."
"Well, I guess that's true but why do you say that you don't have much control over your present circumstances."
"Look at me. If I had control over the circumstances as they now exist, "Do you think I would be held prisoner by these straps.",br>
Would you feel more comfortable if the restraints were removed."
"Wouldn't you, I mean given the circumstances."
"I'll arrange for the restraints to be removed if you can promise me there won't be any problems."
"I can promise you I won't attack anyone, if that's what you mean?"
"That's part of it, but I'm more concern with what you might do to yourself."
"Oh, I can assure you I have no plans of harming myself."
"Well, O.K., Dr. Miller said as she stood up and left the room.
For a moment I thought we had some kind of communication breakdown. I mean the idea was that she was going to release me from my restraints. Wasn't it?
Before I had an opportunity to answer my own question, DR Miller was back in the room with "Gordon, the Burly." Gordon bent down beside me with an evil grin plastered across his wide face. At first I thought he was going to whisper one of his strange warnings to me but instead he simply undid the straps with no outward change in emotion. In moments I was released-Free from the shackles that blinded me. Freedom felt good. Even though I realized, I was still being held a prisoner of the institution. I was still relishing my newfound freedom when I heard Dr. Miller tell Gordon, "that will be all."( Continued on Delta XVIII)
