Chapter 2
Oblivion.....
“In visions of the dark night, I have dreamed of joy departed. But a waking dream of life and light, hath left me broken-hearted” – E.A. Poe, “A Dream”
“Do you remember yesterday?”
“Some....”
“Is there someone you would like to call?”
“No, I left notes to anyone who might care.”
“Would you like to have a roommate?”
“You mean I don’t have to stay in there anymore?” he said, pointing at the lock-down ward which contained more than twenty people milling about -each oblivious, each wrestling with his or her demons.
“Well, you can move to one of the rooms with two beds in them, if you can sign this ‘promise’
document. It essentially says that you won’t try to hurt yourself.”
Silence met the question, as he tuned out of the world again, into his ‘safe place.’ A place where he felt no pain. A place where everything meant nothing; and the world, and all of its words, were a peripheral image...an image that was safely blurred into obscurity. It was the place where he felt like staying - as if safely resident within a fuzzy impressionist garden painting.
After waiting a few minutes, the doctor realized that his patient wasn’t responding, and therefore not ready to leave 24-hour observation.
“Well, I have to leave now; there are people to meet. We’ll talk again. Tomorrow....”
He continued to stare, his near catatonic stare, at a blank wall. The doctor recognized that his patient wasn’t ‘with’ him any longer. He didn’t show any recognition of the question, and his facial expression remained blank. As blank as the wall, he sat perfectly still. The doctor added instructions to his chart to increase his medication, to keep him under observation; and stood to leave. The patient responded to the Doctor’s movement by rising rose from his chair. Lifeless and limp, he followed the doctor’s lead. He felt the doctors’ gentle hand on his shoulder.
“That hand means something, doesn't it?” he thought randomly. “But what? No, nothing. Well...” his thoughts faded.
Then, his interest was captured….when he saw a familiar face in the loud and disrupted room.
“Oh, there is Sarah...”
His thoughts tried to focus on something, but he couldn‘t quite grasp it all. He forgot about the doctor’s existence.
“I should let her talk to me, it’ll do her good,” he thought with some random purpose.
Then he was gone. He walked directly to the scariest inhabitant of the large, sterile, and cold white room.
The doctor shook his head, and thought: “We’re going to have to watch this one!”
“Nurse?”
“Yes doctor?” the middle aged woman answered him from the observation desk.
Walking up to her, while still making a few more notes on the patient’s chart, he didn’t even look up as he spoke.
“Lets keep this one under close supervision for a couple of days. If you see that he’s having trouble sleeping with all of the activity around him, then give him 500 milligrams of Ambien. O.k.?”
“Yes Doctor. Its been really rough in here...what, with the large number of people, and Sarah’s outbursts. She’s refusing her meds again, slips right back into extreme paranoia, and isn’t shy in voicing her fears,” she said in exasperation.
The doctor heard frustration in her voice, so he tried to let her feel included in the decision by explaining his logic.
“We could isolate her if need be, but she’s been here two weeks already without much progress and I’d like to keep her with people. By herself...” his voiced trailed off, as he observed her troubled countenance. "O.k., I agree with you. I’ll call
“Well, keeping her cigarettes from her doesn’t seem to be working. It plays into her paranoia of people plotting against her. A direct approach isn’t as easy, but at least she’ll understand it. She’s adapted to the cigarette trade, and just gets louder and louder, trying to raise a ruckus so we’ll give up and give her cigarettes to shut her up - and frankly, I’m tempted. But she really needs her Meds!”
The doctor drifted off into his thoughts. He knew all the things that the nurse was saying, but he also knew that she had to be able to vent it. Working in this ward was tough on everyone, and a patient ear was the least he could do to make it bearable. Looking out, and surveying as many of the patients as he could, his eyes picked up the large woman who was screaming obscenities…while engaging in alternating periods of serious ‘self discussion.’ Her long dirty grayish-brown hair was matted like an unkempt dog; and her clothes, mismatched and threadbare, looked as though they’d never been washed. She calmed down, as soon as his last patient sat down close to her.
“Jesus!” said the Doctor. “Of all places, he chooses to sit close to Sarah. What’s that about? He’s going to be an interesting case. Obviously self destructive, severely depressed to the point where he’s nonfunctional, in a near catatonic state; and yet he goes and helps a woman in pain?” he exclaimed, puzzled.
“Curious, very curious,” he thought.
Then he commented aloud: “Well, thank you Ann. I’ll look into it!” he said absently, with apparent concern. But he couldn’t remember exactly what he had to ‘look into.’
“Oh, well,” he thought, “its a good generic response, when I need to cut off the ranting nicely.”
The nurse gave him an exasperated look, and commented under her breath: ”Doctors, when will I ever learn? I’d better just go do what needs to be done!”
The doctor’s sharp mind turned to other matters, even as he was finishing his sentence; and he strode confidently down the hall towards the adjoining building.
He left ‘Cottage A,’ the entry point for all nonviolent suicide cases; and began rounds in ‘Cottage B,’ where the chemically addicted patients were housed. Thoughts of all his patients swam around in his head. Most people would have been overwhelmed, but not Dr. Randolph. He enjoyed the challenge, and treasured his “successes.”
“God, she stinks like nasty old shit. I hope I don’t throw up. That certainly won’t help anything,” the disheveled and disoriented patient thought, as he purposely sat down close to Sarah, and forced himself not to wince.
“She has to know that I’m not making any judgments, otherwise she’ll never open up to me; and she has to open up, so I can convince her to stop screaming.”
The pain in her screams chilled him to the bone. It felt like small daggers being stuck all over his body.
“I’ll go nuts,” he thought, “if she doesn’t stop. And God knows that she needs rest, food, and her medications - whatever those are.”
He wasn’t really sure if drugs helped, or hurt, in the long run; but in this case, he was certain that they would help the tortured woman.
“If she doesn't calm down soon, she’ll really blow.”
He wasn’t sure that he could handle the resulting psychic shock waves of that possible event.
“God, isn’t there a quiet place to go?” he wondered.
Every noise and movement grated on his psyche. So the combined pain projected by all the people around him was devastating. It was an ongoing emotional assault. He literally felt their pain being transferred to him, and he wasn’t sure how much more of that he could take in his highly sensitized state before he started screaming too - if to just release the growing, unbearable, pain. He was normally very empathetic, but he was now highly sensitized to everything - especially pain. The place felt physically safe, although some people were a bit scary. After a few hours of being crouched in a corner, he realized that few if any of the people were dangerous...though many were very disconcerting.
“But Jesus, they’re in such mental agony; and their bodies reflect it.”
Some were fat; others were only skin and bones. None were remotely calm. He knew he appeared calm, although inside his feelings and pain matched or exceeded that of those around him.
“Maybe I should scream and let it all out - like those crazy new-age primal scream people on TV?” he thought at first.
He had tried to scream, but no sound would come out - or even start. He just didn’t have the will to care whether it came out or not, whether he ate or not, what he looked like, or where he was ‘to go.’ He had given up on everything, and just didn’t care. If he drove off of a bridge, he wouldn’t have cared.
“If anything, it would be a relief...to stop this pain,” he thought.
A delivery from the unbearable internal pain.
“Where did it come from? How? Why?”
His questions always withered out into confused and conflicting thoughts- so he didn’t try to think, worry, control, understand, or do anything anymore. It was enough to just “be.”
But when faced with this pitiful woman; his mind gave him answers, directions, and seemingly clear solutions. He finally decided that of all of the people in the hospital, Sarah was the worse off- displaying her pain and agony as a camouflaged plea for help.
“All I have to do is to work into her confidences enough to give her a big hug,” he thought. “But it won’t work unless it’s sincere, or if I do it right away as a stranger.”
No, they had to become friends for her to desire, and then be relieved by, a big hug. A hug? How could it be that simple? Was he right, or dead wrong? God knew. All he knew was it was the thing that he wanted, and needed.
“We can’t be that much different, she’s just much more extreme,” he reasoned. “And God knows that she hasn’t gotten any loving attention in her present physical shape. It may not work, but I’ve got to try.”
While the doctors’ existence quickly faded from his damaged memory, her exhibition of pain glared like a beacon. She was a siren of agony, and he was strangely drawn to her pleas.
“What are you doing here?”
She was skeptical of a handsome young man choosing to sit close to her, and paranoia kicked in.
“They sent you here, didn’t they? They wants what's up here,” she said; pointing to her brain.
“I’m smart, and they know it. I know their ways! I know their tricks! They want what I know, and will pump me full of drugs to get it!”
“No,” he said. “I could see that you were smart. The bastards! I’m here because I didn’t want to sit by the crazies, and you remind me of my favorite aunt.”
“They think that I’ll give in! They think if they torture me by keeping my cigarettes, I’ll voluntarily submit to their mind-bending drugs. No way! I‘ll die first, and torture them in the process. They can’t get away with this!”
“Well,” he started. “I think that it’s working some, but it’s also upsetting the crazies. That's not cool. I’ve got a better idea!”
And feigning a conspiracy, he started. He felt that her paranoid mind needed some game, so “let’s give her a benign one,” he reasoned.
“What are you thinking of?” she whispered.
She shrank down, and her bright intelligent bluish-gray eyes looked directly into his eyes.
“I’ll sit by you, and when they bring the Meds over I’ll look at them- so they won’t dare give you the bad ones! Then, you make sure they give you your cigarettes. After that we can talk in the courtyard, where they can’t hear us.”
“You’re a smart one,” she said with a warm smile. “I knew it, the minute I saw you! We’ll trick them, we will, and get them good!”
"Ok, agreed! Now start talking louder about other things. Otherwise, they’ll suspect something. ”
“Deal!” she said with the gusto of a marine sergeant, giving him a firm slap on his back for emphasis.
So they talked. It wore him out, but he kept talking. He asked her questions about her family.
“My daughter put me in here, the bitch!”
He asked her about her husband, deftly changing the subject.
“He was a good man, but the alcohol got the better of ‘em.”
And, he asked about education.
“I went to college, and had a good career. I’m smart. Smarter than they think!”
A nurse started walking in their direction.
“See her?”
“Yes. I’ve been watching them. They’re curious about us talking so much. It’s kind of odd, given your screaming and all. Anyway, that bitch nurse carried Meds in a paper cup to the supervisor and the staff doctor at the main desk. She said something to them, and the other nurse and the doctor seemed puzzled, and didn’t seem too happy. Then they shook their heads, like they were saying ‘no.’ The nice nurse took the Meds from the bitch, looked at them closely, and showed the doctor. He took some of the pills out, and threw them into the trashcan! Boy, was the bitch nurse pissed! He gave the rest to the nice nurse, and walked over here with the safe Meds. You’re right, that bitch was going to give you some horrible shit!”
“I knew it! I knew it!”
“Shush now, she’ll hear us. Be real nice, and tell her that there’s no problem, so long as she brings you the Meds. Otherwise, let ’em know that you’ll start screaming again- even louder than before, ok?”
"Ok.”
The nurse was half way across the cavernous room when two white-coated orderlies joined her, and bore straight towards the two conspirators.
“Sarah,” she said nicely. “I have your Meds, you need to take them, ok? These two men will help you if you cause problems, ok?” she added as sweet as could be.
"Ok, I’ll take my Meds. Even regular like. But, it has to be you bringing them every time, and then giving me cigs.”
Unable to hide her shock at the unexpected easy compliance, the nurse visibly regained her composure before speaking.
“Why sure, Sarah. Whatever you want. That’ll be fine. We just want you to be happy.”
“Bullshit, you’re all commie whores! Don’t ever forget that I know it either! I just want my cigarettes!”
“Well ok,” she said meekly. “Here are your Meds, and some water. Take them now, and I’ll get your cigarettes back.”
She handed her the Meds with shaky hands, and smiled when Sarah quickly swallowed them.
“Good, good! Now drink this glass of water so your stomach won’t be upset.”
Sarah drank it in a few large gulps, and threw down the empty cup.
“Now bring me my cigs!”
"Ok, I’ll make sure that they give them to you on the next break in the courtyard; which will be soon.”
“Uhhmmmmm, make sure you do! And tell that bitch nurse to steer clear of me,” she spat; pointing directly at the other nurse who was visibly surprised.
"Ok, I’ll bring you your Meds from now on.”
“Thanks,” she grunted.
Soon they were gone, and chatting with animated gestures at the station.
“That went well,” he said to Sarah. “But you were a bit rough with her.”
“Yeah, I know. Gotta keep them on their toes. Don’t ever trust ‘em, they’ll betray you. Last week they injected me with something that knocked me out for two days!”
“Jeez, that sounds bad.”
“Don’t ever trust ‘em. Your plan was great, but lets see if they give me my cigarettes.”
“I think that they will,” he interjected. “I’ll make a point of stopping by there on my way to the toilet, and warn them if they don’t.”
“You’re real smart,” she said with a warm appreciative smile.
“I’m going to watch TV for awhile, and then go to the toilet. That way they won’t suspect we were working together, or anything, ok?”
“Oh, that makes sense.”
"Ok, I’ll see you. Good luck, partner!” he said with a warm smile.
He crashed on one of the couches in the TV room for a few minutes; spent and exhausted.
"Ok, hang in there,” he told himself. “You’re almost done,” he reassured himself.
Then, he forced his wobbly legs to walk the distance to the toilet; telling himself that he only had a little more to do before relaxing fully. Sarah perked up when he entered the main room, and intently watched him enter, then later leave, the bathroom. He casually walked alongside the nurse’s station, and right up to the ‘good’ nurse. She ignored his presence for a while. They always did, as a matter of policy. He didn’t let her speak, however, as she raised her head to look at her visitor.
"Ok, be quiet and listen up. I don’t have long to talk. Sarah will take her Meds if you give them to her. If you want to play good nurse/bad nurse with that other nurse, then it’ll convince her even more and she’ll begin to trust you. But you have to give her cigarettes too. I got her to trust you, provisionally, ok?”
A little surprised, and obviously amused by the good nurse/bad nurse remark, she quickly caught onto his plan.
“We will. Thanks.”
“No, thank you. That poor woman needs serious help, and none of us can handle her screaming any longer.”
“Well, she has a history, you know.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, this is her third time in. She’s ok when she’s on her medications, but she’s chemically imbalanced and stops taking them at home when she seems to feel better. Then, she falls hard. Her daughter brought her in the first time. The last two times, it was the police. She was found roaming the streets for God knows how long.”
“Well I can’t talk too much, she’ll think I’m on your side,” he said with a wink.
“Thanks again.”
“Me too. I feel really weak now. It’s been a lot to even focus on this, and I can feel myself slipping again. You’d better look upset with me, to be convincing. I guess once her Meds kick in, she’ll be over the hump, eh? I hope so; it seriously hurts too much to hear her pain. It’s real to her, and it hits me hard.”
“Why don’t you go to sleep in that little room over there?”
“Can I? That would be great. This is all too overwhelming for me. Its just too much...” his voice trailed off, as the stress of the events kicked in.
“No problem, now go away!” she said with an over dramatized scowl.
He tried hard not to laugh. She was so funny. He turned away quickly, and back to Sarah...pretending like he was walking into the TV area. As he passed her, he said: “alls cool, you’ll get your cigarettes. But you can’t give that bitch nurse any ammunition. You have to take your Meds without any more fussing, ok?”
"Ok,” she said sheepishly.
He could tell that deep down inside, she knew it was all a charade; but like most people, she turned a blind eye to incongruent things when they knew deep down that it was for their benefit. Sarah knew that she could trust his sincerity, so she went along with everything he asked. He understood her feelings of hurt, sadness, and anger; caused by people pretending to be good, and then betraying the trust they intended to engender by their apparent sincerity. It hurt him worse than any bad news ever could; and when vulnerable, it was devastating because his fragile trust was violated and he felt even more alone, feeling then that he couldn’t trust anyone. He’d taken so many blows of betrayal that he couldn’t cope with anything anymore. While the current situation was upsetting, it helped him understand the source of some of his own pain- by seeing it glaringly in the hapless woman.
“Maybe that's why her pain affects me so much?” He could identify with it deeply.
Most patients in the ward felt beaten up by deceptions and betrayals, and were only reaching out...however oddly...for help and protection from an onslaught of now overwhelming emotions.
“Sanctuary, sanctuary, sanctuary,” Quasimodo, the hunchback of Notre-Dame, beseeched.
He’d sought refuge, in order to escape his societal-driven tormentors. The unbidden quote pierced his awareness, like an unexpected arrow.
“That’s what I need,” he realized, as the last of his energy drained out of his worn body; and he collapsed on the small cot.
His last thoughts were: “Thank God she’s going to be quiet. I can sleep without fear. It’s good for her to have her medication. She’s a nice person ...just scared as hell, and lashing out with anger at an increasingly insensitive world. My anger and hurt is similar, it’s just turned inside and against myself. I need rest, silence, time...” his mind rambled off into oblivion.
He woke, because someone shook him. He didn’t want to get up, but everyone was forced to move out of the ward. He hardly knew where he was, being pulled from a very deep sleep brought on by his medication. His brief period of semi-clarity with the Sarah situation had been a last effort fluke, and it drained him even further. He felt like a zombie. His thoughts were incoherent, confused, jumbled; and it was frustrating for him to try and hold them in his conscious awareness. Nothing ‘stuck’ in his short-term memory. His mind got wiped clean, or things didn’t even register. He’d let himself totally collapse. It had been a relief to find sanctuary at the hospital…so he checked himself in. Then, when his newfound peace had been threatened with psychic disturbance, he’d used the last of his reserves.... from somewhere deep inside.... to deal with it. But it took his last energies. Maybe he allowed that, knowing that there was a safety net for him to fall into when totally spent. After all, he had only allowed himself the respite of the hospital after feeling assured that his kids would be safe without him. It was only when he knew that he had done his best by them, gotten them safely through the treacherous emotional storm that had threatened to damage them for life; that he could let go totally. For seven years he did everything in his power to assure than the worst of the divorce consequences fell on him, not them. Protecting them, until they could stand on their own; independent of the twisted thoughts, and warped values, of his ex-wife.
“Come on now. We have to clean the room, and you need fresh air,“ a disembodied voice spoke.
“Lets go,” the orderly directed insistently.
Corralled like limping sheep, the patients ambled inside a small, totally enclosed, courtyard. Sarah was way ahead, but her presence didn’t register with him any more than anything else. He felt remotely good about her, but his memories were fuzzy at best. Sarah stopped by the nurse’s station on her way out, and was handed two cigarettes.
She scowled a “cheapskate” look at the nurse, but caused no incident. She’d been mercifully quiet for a long time, and was somewhat defused as her meds kicked in. He was punchy, and not attempting to process anything. His mind wouldn’t even try. It had been overloaded, chemically drained through prolonged and continued stress, and was misfiring. He felt like he was in a fog. Never quite getting past that place between sleep and awake. It was an emotional gray space… a numb and quiet space. He recognized Sarah when they were outside, and she smiled to see him.
“It worked!” she said brightly.
It was nice to see her feeling something other than pain, but he couldn’t feel anything other than the absence of her pain. He was just slightly less oppressed by her slice of happiness. Not much else registered in his worn out cerebrum.
“I keep giving pieces of myself away,” he thought, “without someone giving some in.”
Knowing that Sarah was on track helped somehow, but he was still drained. He did, however, remember his last responsibility as he saw it.... the hug. He girded himself for the smell, actually holding his breath, and gave her a big bear hug. He slowly let out the air that was trapped in his lungs, so not to run away too quickly and display olfactory disgust. That would have defeated the purpose of all his work, and hurt her terribly. She smiled broadly, as she left his embrace. He let out the rest of his breath, and simply said: “You’re a good person, Sarah. Don’t ever forget it again, ok?” Shocked into silence, she stood enthralled. She glowed with appreciation.
He headed for the nearest bench and collapsed. Someone eventually helped him back into the building when the break was over. Dropping onto a makeshift cot, he thankfully fell into a deep, nearly comatose, sleep. The medications insured that, but he didn’t know, or care.
©Tibet, Lamplight Unto a Darkened World…the American Delusion, a Parody of life ( L'illusion Américaine, une Parodie de Vie); is copyright protected, by author, Patrick Mahoney. Online Internet Reproduction/Propagation/Quotation Encouraged, with this citation. Any Printed reproduction, other than for personal reading, requires written permission by author, patrickm at http://patrickm.gather.com/ or patrick1000000000@yahoo.com
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