Confinement

by Gabriella Murray

  He lifted his slender hands to the windows, and rubbed them slowly along the glass.

  Duffino can't look outside today, I wanted to add. She is downstairs in confinement. It's dark down there, and damp. Patients down there aren't allowed the luxury of something so special as looking outside.

  He must have felt my thoughts directed at him, for he turned around for a moment and glanced my way. Then he glanced back out the window.

  "My mother was also ill like this," he said. "We couldn't save her, either. We tried."

  "I'm sorry, Colin Ethan," I replied.

  He looked at me. "Thank you for your kindness."

  I shivered from head to toe. No one here had ever thanked me before. Not ever. And it was rare for a staff member to smile at me, too.

  "Dr. Ethan," I started to whisper, but just then Dr. Farbin and another doctor came promptly to his side.

  They looked at him quizzically. "Is there some problem?""What happened to Duffino?" Colin responded promptly.

  Dr. Farbin spoke slowly, "Colin, it's all a matter of course. You'll get used to these things in time."

  "Not necessarily."

  "We have to get used to them," Dr. Farbin asserted. "How else can we help the patients get well?"

  * * * * *

  The first time a new patient was assigned to Insulin a case conference was held the next morning. This took precedence over every other professional duty. It was called for nine o'clock sharp and no one could be late. Careful notes were taken, dosages planned and progress reports charted. I knew this because I'd listened into most of them over the years. They had a strange fascination for me. Who was the next one going down to Insulin, and who would he be when he came up again?

  The case conference for Duffino had a special air of excitement about it. I stood in the hall and watched as the doctors rushed into the conference with a smile of anticipation on their faces. Not only did the usual doctors attend, but orderlies, nurses, and even Dr. Whitney's secretary Bella, who wrote down carefully all that was said.

  Dr. Whitney stood up and called the group together promptly. "This is a special morning here at Bingham."

  Dr. Ethan noticeably scraped his throat.

  "As you all know, Duffino was admitted to Insulin last

  night, at 10:02. Her condition is good. Her order was written

  by Miriam Stony. She is in room 309, Wing B. She was taken down due to unwillingness to obey the rules."

  Dr. Ethan scraped his throat louder.

  "There are various causes for initiating the treatment

  that each of the inmates here require."

  Dr. Ethan stood up at the table inappropriately.

  "At this time Duffino does not require Insulin," he blurted.

  A shocked silence prevailed.

  Dr. Whitney acted as if he had never spoken at all.

  "Each patient is brought here as a result of personal petition and careful examination of their case. If they are admitted, it is because we feel that, for them, this is the treatment of choice."

  "Duffino does not need Insulin now." Dr. Ethan was still standing; he looked weakened to me, a trifle bewildered.

  Again Dr. Whitney proceeded unaffected. "Greta Darding, one of the finest psychiatric nurses available, who arrived here a short while ago, has been assigned to Duffino's Insulin Supervisor."

  That was news to me. I didn't like it. I didn't want anybody else assigned to Duffino's case.

  Dr. Colin Ethan continued to speak. "Isn't it a possibility

  that she needs to be insubordinate for awhile?"

  "Dr. Ethan, please take a seat."

  "There's a power in insubordination." Dr. Ethan spoke very

  fast.

  Again a shocked silence prevailed.

  "Isn't it part of the written regulations that each case must be discussed thoroughly?" He could not let this go.

  "Yes, discussed," Dr. Whitney answered, "as to the exact length and depth of the treatment. Not whether or not it should take place."

  "And also as to timing," Dr. Ethan continued, "when the treatment should be given. When the patient is able to receive it to their greatest benefit."

  "Yes, Dr. Ethan," Dr. Whitney looked slightly ashen, "of course we must decide when. Timing is crucial."

  "I, for one, think the timing is perfect," Dr. Farbin stood at his place too.

  "Gentlemen, this is not yet an open discussion. I am presenting the facts. I am not finished." Dr. Whitney's voice rose.

  Dr. Farbin glared at Dr. Ethan. "Dr. Ethan believes that this patient requires freedom to do as she likes, paint as she wishes, wander outdoors, become more confident about breaking the rules."

  "I wouldn't put it that way," Dr. Ethan defended.

  "Dr. Ethan maintains that mental health is restored through allowing the patient free expression. Liberty, without regard to the well being of others."

  "That is not my position."

  "He doesn't care about consequences. He wants patients to worship the wilderness within."

  "He wants what?" Dr. Whitney was taken aback.

  "Dr. Ethan does not yet see that the criminal mind always feels it has a right to act on its own recognizance - no matter who is harmed. By its very nature, the criminal mind lacks ability to feel remorse. To realize what it's doing. Oh yes, some pretend to feel sorrowful later. But this is only a pretense."

  Dr. Whitney was dumbfounded. "I'm surprised to hear you

  say this, Dr. Farbin. You've been so successful with your patients here."

  "Because I relate to them for who they truly are."

  "And who do you think Duffino is exactly?"

  "Violent. Wild. A ruthless criminal."

  The entire room was deathly still.

  "Which does not mean," Dr. Farbin continued, "she cannot be

  re-constructed and returned back to society, safe and sound."

  A ruthless criminal? My Duffino? The blood in my veins coursed loudly.

  Dr. Farbin enjoyed the rapt attention.

  "Please rest assured, each criminal act has a long history within the criminal's mind. This is the history we dissolve through Insulin Therapy."

  "Gentlemen," Dr. Whitney spoke loudly, "this meeting is not meant to be a symposium on the nature of the criminal mind. We have that symposium the first week of Spring. April 9th, to be exact. Although, Dr. Farbin's comments are fascinating, this is a case conference about Duffino. The facts of her behavior must be made plain. She has behaved in flagrant violation of Nurse Stony's order. This violation alerts us to the fact that the perfect time to pacify her is now. Her violation shows us that her true nature is emerging."

  "Her true nature is perfect," Colin called out shrilly, like a bird lost in deep woods.

  Everyone ignored his cry. Dr. Farbin spoke up, "After all, Insulin Therapy is to be administered when we feel the patient is ready to be subdued, taken on a journey into the unconscious cause of their flagrant acts. In Insulin comas, they can dream vividly, remember. The inner turmoil can be discharged while they are semi-conscious. No one is harmed. I honor Dr. Whitney's brilliant discovery."

  "This entire statement is based upon a mistake," Dr. Ethan

  could not take this lightly. "Duffino does not have a criminal mind."

  "That's a questionable statement," Dr. Whitney bristled.

  "I am not even sure," Colin Ethan was undaunted, "that there is something called a criminal mind. I, too, am writing a paper.

  It's called, The Myth Of The Criminal Mind."

  I could see Dr. Farbin had enough. "It is my contention," he said, "that Dr. Ethan is emotionally involved with the patient in a way that is not to her benefit."

  "Ridiculous," Dr. Whitney was flushed.

  "From the very first day."

  "Sit down, Dr. Farbin," Dr. Whitney hit the table.

  But Dr. Farbin was immoveable. "Dr. Ethan wants Duffino weak. He does not want her to grow. He refuses to allow her to learn to obey, to be able to join society on
e day."

  "Obey what, exactly, Dr. Farbin?" Dr. Ethan's lower lip

  shook.

  "She must learn to obey," Dr. Farbin replied. "Insulin treatment will resolve the turmoil. She will become receptive. I want her receptive. I feel I can make her well, make her interact with life directly. Just as it is."

  Dr. Whitney hit the edge of his papers on the table. "Three doses for two days and then two doses for the rest of the week." That did it. He closed his book. "This meeting is over."

  "Over?" Dr. Ethan jumped up and ran to him. "We have not had our full discussion as yet."

  "Discussion is over. It has already taken place. Come and

  see me Colin, in my office."

  Dr. Guy Farbin stood, smiled, and touched all his ten finger tips together. "I am pleased at the outcome of this meeting," he announced to the others, though they were not really listening. Most had packed up and were starting to go. "Do you hear?" he went on. "I am pleased. It has been well done." Then he smiled broadly again to no one, just to the thin, cool air.

  Chapter Eleven

  The first days Duffino was down in Insulin I could not visit her because no one was allowed in. The early days in Insulin were precious. Patients needed solitary time to receive their injections, review their behavior, remember their crimes, and, if they were lucky, start their long course of penance. The days were so full and busy, most hardly smelled the sticky sweet smell of medicines given in the extra warm rooms. Of course, no one here viewed the treatment as penance, but having been through it myself directly, I knew exactly what was going on.

  Most of the time the liquid in the needles they injected us with was colorless, sometimes it was pale blue, practically azure, like a hot tropical sky. Whatever the color, it stung for a second, burnt, and then drifted through your veins like honey, taking reason away with it as it flowed.

  The Insulin ward was run by a separate staff of specially trained doctors and nurses, who gave the patient's their injections, took careful notes of reactions, made fine adjustments, and monitored the patient's progress on a graph. First thing in the morning, doctors came with the needles. Nurses watched as the patients slowly drifted down into their Insulin Comas. Once in the Coma, some would remember the horrors they could not remember while awake. They would toss, turn, scream, and even plead for mercy.

  I could not bear to imagine Duffino down there, pleading. Or maybe she wasn't pleading. Maybe she was taking her treatment silently, surrendering to it all. Maybe she stayed wrapped up in gauze, her silence refusing them their satisfaction.

  For the first few days no news floated upstairs of how she was doing. Everyone speculated.

  "She's probably frying down there," Sharon laughed. "I bet she's speaking real loud now."

  "Our little sweetheart is doing just fine," Else quipped back.

  "Fine, my ass," William broke in. "She's getting the treatment she deserves." Then he licked his lips real hard.

  I wanted to go over and punch him one.

  "Shut up, you idiots," I called back.

  "Who?" Freddy said.

  "Idiots, idiots, all you of you." I felt my face get red.

  Dr. Ethan received some reports, but naturally he would not share them with us. Every morning, when I saw him walking up and down the corridors, pad in hand, making rounds, I ran to his side and tugged on his jacket.

  "How's Duffino?"

  "She'll be fine, Charlotte."

  He was the only one who said my name. He said it sweetly too.

  "How do you know she'll be fine?"

  "She's a brave young woman."

  I sucked my breath in. Finally, someone calling Duffino brave!

  "Very brave," I whispered to him confidentially. "Very, very brave."

  "Indeed," he replied, but would say nothing beyond that.

  * * * * *

  The next day I tugged at him again.

  He looked a little worn to me. "I'm really sorry, Charlotte. I would like to tell you whatever I know, but the rules here forbid it."

  "I know all about the rules, Dr. Ethan."

  That stopped him cold. "I know you do."

  "Every single detail."

  "Good."

  "What's good about it?"

  "It's good that you know them. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to make my rounds."

  I watched him go somberly. Dr. Ethan had never been assigned to my case, only Duffino's. But while she was down in Insulin, there was nothing he could do for her.

  Finally, on the third day, I walked over and approached him directly. There was no need to tug at his coat.

  "How many more days will she be down there?" I forced him.

  "Not many."

  I understood. He could not say more and compromise himself. I was grateful for whatever he offered.

  "Dr. Ethan, you are a good man."

  That startled him a moment. "Do you really think so?"

  "You're different from the others."

  "Yes, I am."

  "I like you."

  "Thank you."

  Imagine a doctor here saying "thank you" to me? Imagine anyone here ever saying thank you? He won't last long here, I thought. How can he? Soon they won't be able to bear him at all.

  On the fourth day, all by himself, he came over to me in the hallway and touched my sleeve, "Charlotte?"

  I love you Colin, I wanted to reply. "What?"

  "In one hour, after your group therapy session, the staff is having a case conference about Duffino. She is doing well. I'll ask them to give you visiting rights to see her down there."

  Give me visiting rights? I could hardly believe it.

  "I'll let you know what is decided when the meeting is over."

  Let me know? Didn't he realize I attended every single case conference, that I knew just where to hide and was able to hear everything that was going on? And see things, too, if the light came off the hills in the right angle.

  "Thank you, Dr. Ethan."

  "Think nothing of it," he said, and left quickly.

  I turned the other way and scuttled down the hall to my group therapy meeting which was about to start.

  * * * * *

  When a member of the group was sent down to Insulin Therapy, the entire group felt the shock waves of it, even the leader.

  Although Duffino hadn't officially attended any of our meetings yet, she had been appointed to our group and we knew it. Dr. Whitney was waiting for her to speak, before she was allowed to join in. Dr. Ethan had wanted her to come, sit in anyway, and Dr. Farbin was neutral.

  But whether or not she came to our sessions, she sat at our table for every meal. Everyone knew her directly.

  As soon as the members of our group entered the room and settled in their chairs, Dr. Farbin came in, and started talking rapidly.

  "As you all well know, Duffino was sent down to Insulin for the first time."

  Silence greeted his announcement. Lanny looked at the floor, Else shook her head, and I felt like throwing up.

  "Why Duffino?" Freddy finally wailed.

  "We will discuss it fully," Dr. Farbin responded, and sat down deftly, on his leader's chair.

  "She didn't need it," Freddy kept wailing.

  "I thought you loved Charlotte, Freddy," Else said. "Not Duffino."

  "Both," he cried, looking at me.

  "It's all right," I responded, "you can love everyone."

  "Noble of you, I'd say," Sharon snorted.

  "Charlotte, Charlotte," Freddy was sputtering.

  "Freddy," Dr. Farbin interrupted, "you want Duffino to get well, don't you?"

  His head bobbed up and down.

  "According to my knights," Lanny interjected, "Insulin therapy is not indicated for Duffino right now."

  "Now his pawns tell him things," Sharon giggled.

  "Not pawns, damn you, knights!" Lanny said.

  "Let's stay on the subject," Dr. Farbin demanded.

  "I, for one, am glad she's down there." Sharon took the lead. "Why
in hell shouldn't she be down there? What's so special about her anyway?"

  "Don't say hell," I said.

  Sharon turned to me. "To hell with you! Hell!" She grinned, showing the nicotine stains on her big teeth.

  "Sharon," Dr. Farbin, spoke louder. "We must respect the feelings of others. Don't you remember?"

  "No."

  "She remembers all right," Else spoke up.

  "You too," Sharon glared, "hell."

  I stood up off my chair.

  "Sit down, Charlotte."

  "No." I spoke definitely. "There was no need to put Duffino in Insulin. It was a punishment, as we all know."

  "Ridiculous," Dr. Farbin said.

  "Clear as daylight."

  Dr. Farbin spoke louder, "No. These treatments are purely for your benefit." Dr. Farbin had given this speech before and everyone had heard it. "They ease the body, calm the mind. I, for one, had recommended that Duffino go down there earlier."

  "No, you didn't, Farbin," I eyed him.

  "Sit down, Charlotte. You're disturbing the order."

  "What order?"

  "If you don't sit down - "

  "Then it's also Insulin for me, Farbin?"

  "Don't call me Farbin. I'm Doctor, to you."

  I bowed at the waist a little. "So sorry, your majesty."

  The others laughed. It broke the tension. Despite himself, even Farbin smiled. When he smiled, I saw he could be handsome, if he'd only let his obsession with order go.

  Freddy clapped both hands together. You could see Freddy thought my joke was the end of the world.

  "More, Charlotte," Freddy started calling.

  "It's enough, Freddy," Dr. Farbin said. "All of you, settle down. What's happening down there is good for Duffino. It's been postponed too long." He tried to speak in his most peaceful tone.

  It only half worked. We were still agitated.

  "We miss her," Else finally uttered, and after the expression of one honest emotion, the rest of us quieted down.

  After that, Dr. Farbin used most of the session reviewing the benefits of Insulin Therapy, and some of the staff hoped that we could all get well. I pretended to have a violin with me and to play it while he spoke. Others laughed as I did it. When we were all finished laughing, it was much calmer in the room.