“At four fucking o’clock in the afternoon? What kind of place is this?” Tim demanded.
Amin simply ignored Tim’s outburst and held out his hand.
Tim put his shoes on and began to follow Amin down the hallway. Amin used an ID badge to open another door, which led to another hallway. Tim now noticed that an additional Dominican man was behind them. This was all becoming a little strange to Tim, and it began to occur to him that maybe he should reconsider the entire procedure. Tim turned to make a retreat but felt the strong hands of the man behind him placed on both of his shoulders.
Amin turned to Tim. “Mr. Tim, you have come too far,” he said gently.
Amin opened a door for Tim to see a brightly lit room that was crammed with a variety of medical equipment. There were also six doctors or nurses waiting inside of it, all gloved, gowned, and wearing surgical masks. With the Dominican still holding Tim, a woman who Tim thought was Nurse Jennifer stepped to his right and administered an injection, saying, “Tim, this will help you relax.”
Tim felt his entire body go limp, although he was still very awake.
“Amin prepare the patient,” said a voice that Tim recognized as Dr. Justice’s. Tim tried to speak but found himself paralyzed to the point where he could only make unintelligible sounds.
Amin and the other Dominican man took Tim into a side room and began to undress him. Tim was soon in a hospital grown and laid out on an operating table. Tim was completely freaking out now, yet there was absolutely nothing he could do.
Dr. Justice stood over Tim and spoke. “Tim, I apologize for proceeding in such a manner, but we have our reasons, which I will explain later. Now, we are going to be performing several kinds of injections that may feel uncomfortable. Some of these injection sites will be in and around your eye sockets, and we need you to be completely still, which is why we needed to use certain sedative medications. For the remainder of the procedure, we think it is best that you are unconscious.”
Dr. Justice turn and nodded to someone. “Now, Tim, if you just start counting backwards... 10, 9, 8—”
Tim made it to 7.
He woke up on his back, staring at a white ceiling fan. He slowly started testing each of his limbs for movement. He did have a tremendous headache, a type of headache that he had never experienced before.
“Mr. Tim, Mr. Tim, are you back with us?” a voice next to Tim called out.
“Yes, yes, I’m back. You’re the man in charge, right?”
Tim knew right away that he was making no sense. Coming out of anesthesia was always a strange occurrence, but in this case, getting back to reality was important. Tim tried harder.
“My name is Tim Hall, correct? And I am in, am I, am in...” Tim paused for a moment. “I am in a place where the laws do not apply,” he finally decided to say.
That statement even made the stoic Amin laugh out loud. “Yes, Mr. Tim, you are in a land where American law does not apply, but you must hurry. You have a plane to catch back to your home in Baltimore that you will not want to miss.”
“Plane? Baltimore?” Tim exclaimed. “What about seeing the doctor? What about aftercare?”
Amin laughed once again. “You have received the treatment that Dr. Justice prescribed. The doctor may indeed want to follow up with your progress, but there is no—how do you call it? —aftercare.”
Tim had never been to any medical facility where he did not have to sign a stack of forms in order to be released. He was getting the feeling he was getting the bum rush out of the CBSCRC—but why?
“Amin, don’t you think I should speak with Dr. Justice or at least Nurse Jennifer before I leave?”
Tim could tell that Amin was becoming impatient. “Mr. Tim, both doctor and nurse have examined you thoroughly, and they have given you permission to leave. Your passport is only valid for seven days, and you have now been here for six, so it is imperative you leave today.”
By this time, Tim was dressed, and his bag was packed (although he didn’t have a clue how any of that was done). Before he could ask any more questions, he was seated in the SUV with Amin heading back to the airport, then aboard flight United 2259 to Dallas-Ft. Worth International Airport. Tim was not pleased with the small 50-plus seat jet or the connection he needed to make at DFW, but he soon fell asleep.
He was awakened by the flight attendant welcoming everyone to the greater Dallas-Fort Worth area. All of the passengers deplaned directly onto the tarmac and were required to take a bus to the main terminal.
On arrival, Tim was disappointed to discover that he, along with the rest of the passengers, would need to be screened through the TSA once again. When Tim arrived at the checkpoint, he encountered the longest line he had ever witnessed. In addition, there did not seem to be any order to the screening process. Apparently, a group of travelers had attempted to bring some sort of energizer beverage on board that was forbidden by the current FAA rules. Somehow, this act by itself had shut down the entire DFW TSA, and the line through screening was becoming longer and longer.
Tim’s line was slowly merging with another line, which was leading to the one TSA gate in operation. To Tim’s right was a young blond man with an even younger blonde woman. The man wore sunglasses and looked like he was going on a skiing vacation. When he spoke to his girlfriend, Tim noticed some kind of accent, maybe English or Australian.
As the line moved another inch, Tim inadvertently kicked the younger man’s bag (everyone’s bag was on the airport floor at this point). The blond man shot Tim a look and remarked, “You got a problem with my bag, mate?”
Feeling angry or perhaps just frustrated, Tim replied, “I ain’t your fucking mate, you asshole.”
As Tim was turning back, he saw the blond man’s fist coming straight at him through the corner of his right eye. Tim instinctively raised his right hand and caught the man’s fist, beginning to squeeze.
The blond man cried out in pain and fell to his knees. “Let go, let go!” were the only words he could get out. The blond man’s girlfriend also screamed, yelling at Tim to leave him alone.
Tim released his grip and took a step back, not totally understanding what had just occurred. An airport cop approached and asked Tim and the blond man if there were any problems, but the blond man just shook his head and told the cop that everything was okay. At that point, the TSA line finally began moving, and Tim passed right through.
Tim’s flight was scheduled to leave, and he found himself sprinting to the gate just as the door was closing. As he sat in his seat and fastened his seat belt, he noticed that he was not nearly as winded as he would have expected. Tim wondered what that fight had been all about and how he’d been able to bring a younger man to his knees simply by squeezing his hand. Something was going on...but what?
Tim arrived at BWI expecting Mary Ann to meet him, but then remembered that he hadn’t told her when he was coming back. Tim was supposed to call her from the Dominican Republic, but he hadn’t had time. Hell, he had not had much of a chance to do anything, since he’d slept on both of the return flights.
He wandered through the airport until he found himself at the ground transportation section, then in the back of a taxi. “I need to go 5456 Lovettsville Road,” Tim told the driver.
“Lovettsville Road? Where the heck is Lovettsville Road?” the driver responded.
Tim thought the same thing. Where the hell was Lovettsville Road?
“I mean North Washington Street in the city,” he quickly corrected.
“That address I know,” the driver laughed. “But Lovettsville Road is a new one to me.”
It was a new one to Tim as well.
It was early Sunday morning, and the Goose would not be open until sometime that afternoon. Tim considered going to Mary Ann’s apartment above the Goose but decided that probably was not a very good idea. Showing up at a woman’s home uninvited had never worked out well for him—something about the invasion of their space. Tim couldn’t remember the exact reason, b
ut he’d decided long ago never to show up uninvited again.
Tim made his way to his condo, opened the door, and threw his bag on the floor. He went to bed and began to dream. In his dream, he found himself on a road with trees on either side that was close to a river. There was also a house, a large brick house that overlooked the river. A woman was coming out of it.
Tim woke up and saw that the time was 4 p.m. Maybe the Goose would be open now. He could not remember the last time he’d eaten.
Before he could get dressed, though, Tim turned on the TV in his living room and fell right back to sleep. This time, Tim dreamed of being in a car with other people that he did not know. They were driving in a city, and they were escaping from someone. Tim woke again and saw that it was now 7 p.m. Why all these dreams, he wondered. Tim usually had the same dreams over and over, but these dreams were new and extremely vivid.
Tim decided to take a shower. He undressed and stood in front of the full-sized mirror in his bathroom to examine his body. Tim removed several band aids, which revealed numerous needle marks. What the hell had those maniacs done to him at the CBSCRC?
After the shower, Tim dressed in a sweatshirt and pants and laid down on his couch. This was the last thing he remembered.
Chapter 7
Tim opened his eyes to see another white ceiling fan, just like the one in the Dominican Republic. “What the hell?” he said out loud.
He attempted to get up, only to find that both his arms and legs were restrained to the bed. A hospital bed.
“Hey!” Tim yelled, not knowing who he was yelling to.
“Shut the fuck up,” said a voice to Tim’s right.
Tim looked over to see a man with a food tray in another bed. The man was eating what appeared to be breakfast while watching TV.
“Where the fuck am I? How the hell did I get—”
The man in the bed next to Tim cut him off. “You’re in the John Hopkins Psych Ward, pal,” he answered, not bothering to look at Tim. “But I don’t have a clue how you got here. I just know that they brought you in last night and woke me the fuck up.”
Tim was beginning to calm down somewhat. At least he was someplace safe, but how and why was he in a hospital room?
Tim decided to take a nicer tone with his new roommate. “So, they brought me in here and I woke you up? I am very sorry, but can you tell me anything else?” Tim was trying his best to stay calm, but he could feel his heart racing.
“You kept asking if there was a plan B and calling out for some chick named Pam.” The man was now looking directly at Tim. “Look, pal, if you got women problems, then let me give you a piece of advice. They ain’t worth it.”
Two nurses entered the room (or, at least, that was what Tim figured they were). The female nurse spoke first. “Good morning, Mr. Hall. How are you feeling today?”
“I’d be a lot better if I knew how I got here,” Tim said, but he noticed that the female nurse was writing down his vitals on a clipboard instead of paying attention to him.
Tim again attempted to be nice. “So, is there any way I can be untied?”
“Perhaps,” the nurse replied, “provided you can behave yourself. Dr. Ryan will be here in a moment, and we will have to see how she feels about that.”
Tim could tell that he was being treated like a preschooler and decided that he should cooperate.
A woman in her fifties entered the room and had a conversation with the female nurse. She next walked to Tim’s bedside, while the female nurse drew the privacy curtain. Meanwhile, the male nurse stood silently at the head of the bed with his arms crossed. Must be here in case I start any trouble, Tim thought, which he found somewhat amusing. Tim had never imagined he could be considered dangerous.
“Mr. Hall? My name is Dr. Ryan. Do you have any idea why you are here?”
“Not a clue,” Tim responded.
“Well, you were brought here by the Baltimore police, who found you running up and down Washington Street at 11 p.m. last night. They report that you appeared to be having a psychotic episode. Do you know what a psychotic episode is, Mr. Hall?”
“I have a pretty good idea. It’s the official name for acting crazy.” Tim was trying not to sound too much like a wise ass, but he was finding it difficult given the situation. If nothing else, Tim had always considered himself sane.
“Yes, Mr. Hall, that would be an appropriate description,” the doctor agreed. “Have you recently taken any drugs, legal or illegal?”
“Not that I am aware of.” Tim had decided to try and keep his answers short.
“Have you been out of the country recently?”
That question stopped Tim cold. Yes, he had, but did he want to go into all that when he didn’t know exactly what had happened himself? Yes: he decided he’d need to be straight with the doctor if he ever expected to get out of the psych ward.
“Dr. Ryan, I recently traveled to the Dominican Republic to take part in a study involving stem cells, but I now I believe there never was a study and I was simply robbed of $18,000. I returned yesterday, I mean Sunday morning, and just have not felt very well since then.”
Tim studied the doctor’s face and saw what he interpreted as a look of understanding. “Well, that certainly may explain a lot. For example, your blood work from last night was all over the place, but this morning, your blood levels seem about normal. Actually, for a man of your age, I would say you are in excellent health.”
Tim did not remember any blood work from this morning, but he did not remember last night, either. Tim noticed that the doctor seemed be taking a more friendly attitude toward him now.
The doctor turned to the male nurse. “Toby? I think we can take the restraints off of Mr. Hall now.”
Nurse Toby stepped forward and undid Tim’s wrists and feet. Meanwhile, the doctor made more notes on Tim’s chart and handed the clipboard back to the female nurse.
“Mr. Hall, I would like to keep you in the hospital for another day for observation, but I feel that your episode was related to your experience in the Dominican Republic, and I would of course advise you never to try something like that again.”
The doctor was now smiling, which Tim saw as a good sign. She continued. “The Baltimore police did charge you with disorderly conduct, but I will write you a statement saying that your behavior was caused by a reaction to medication. That should allow them to drop the charges. Later today, we will move you out of the Psychiatric Ward to a regular room. In the meantime, you must be hungry.”
Dr. Ryan finished writing notes on Tim’s chart and asked him if he had any questions. Tim thanked her and said that he did not. The doctor and the two nurses left the room, and Tim began to relax.
His roommate spoke up. “You’re lucky, pal. I know some people who never leave this place. But I got to let you know something.”
“And what would that be, my friend?” Tim replied, feeling confident.
“You say you got back to Baltimore Sunday morning? Well, today is Wednesday.”
Chapter 8
Tim was relieved as an attendant rolled him out of the Psychiatric Ward to one of the regular medical units, but he was still extremely worried about the missing two days. At least now he had a medical explanation for the blackout, but where in the hell had he been? He certainly hadn’t been running up and down Washington Street for that length of time—although this was Baltimore, where acting strange would not attract much attention.
Tim was taken to a room with two beds, but fortunately the other one was empty. He was able to get up from the gurney to the bed without any help from the attendant and was in the process of making himself comfortable when a nurse arrived with several papers attached to her clipboard.
“Mr. Hall, I have your discharge papers here.”
“Discharge papers? Dr. Ryan told me this morning that she wanted to keep me another day.”
Tim was slightly surprised at this news, but he really did not want to spend another night in the hospital, so he de
cided not to make too strong of an argument.
The nurse laughed. “You guys come in here all of the time and we tell you to stay, but before we know it, there’s a phone call from upstairs telling us to let you out.”
Tim was confused. What did the nurse mean by “you guys” and “a phone call from upstairs”?
The nurse continued. “Now, when the local cops are admitted, we can’t get rid of them—but you Feds, well, I guess it’s a different world.”
“I think you may have me mixed up with somebody else. I’m retired from the government, and I am not cop—Fed or otherwise,” Tim explained.
“Yeah, sure, and I’m a Secret Service Agent,” the nurse responded as she handed Tim her clipboard and a stack of papers to sign.
Tim was still convinced the nurse had somehow made a mistake, but he decided that he wanted to get out of John Hopkins before anything else happened.
“Here are your clothes, Mr. Hall.” The nurse handed Tim a plastic bag that contained a pair of his blue jeans, a pullover shirt and sweater, shoes, and a jacket. There was another bag that contained Tim’s wallet and house keys. The last thing Tim remembered doing was falling asleep in his living room, but it appeared that he had purposely gotten dressed and gone out. But where did he go?
Tim had finished dressing when there was a knock on his hospital room door. He looked up to see a smiling Mary Ann.
Mary Ann walked directly to Tim and began to hug him tightly. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over town for you!” she exclaimed.
“I don’t know, Mary Ann, but I’m hoping you can tell me,” Tim answered.
Tim and Mary Ann navigated their way out of the massive hospital center and found a coffee shop around the corner on Madison Street. Tim sat and gazed out at the traffic while Mary Ann brought two coffees to the table.
“So, tell me something that I don’t know?” Tim said, trying to be funny, but he was very worried that he was beginning to lose his mind. Wasn’t this the first symptom of dementia?
The Adults in the Room Page 4