“That’s how it worked for me,” Nurse Judy says. “Time …time and prayer heals all wounds.”
“Easy for you to say, you’re the one in the white uniform. You’re not the patient, I am.”
“Yes.” Nurse Judy is quiet. A couple of minutes pass while I tried to stop crying.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. I feel so alone.”
“You’re not alone, honey. I’ve been there, too.”
“You’ve been a patient?”
“No.” She looks at me with such kindness. “I lost my baby.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.” She stands up. “I need to get evening med trays ready. We’ll talk again.” She squeezes my shoulder, returns to the nurses’ station.
Chapter 13
I’ve been out of protection only a week, and I’m not sure I can handle group therapy. But if I ever want to get out, I have to go. If you don’t follow the rules, you don’t go home.
Dr. Murray gets there just in time to begin the session. “Welcome back, Luanne.”
“I can’t take this shit.” Isabel pulls her crew neck shirt down over her belly and squirms in her chair. “The first time I came here, they called it the Blind Room. Before that, I heard it was called the Strong Room. I don’t care what you call it, it’s torture. Some gals in there for months at a time. You tell me, could you be locked up like that and not go crazy?”
Isabel leans back and folds her arms across her chest. “Luanne, you look like you’ve come back from the grave.”
“Thanks.” Leave it to Isabel to make me smile.
“Progress is slow,” Dr. Murray says to Isabel. “I understand your frustration.”
“Bullshit.”
“I know, I know. Let’s move on. Who wants to start today?” Dr. Murray says. The usual ritual starts, with the group members looking down and fidgeting in their seats.
“I guess I could start.”
“Go ahead, Beth,” Dr. Murray says.
“My parents are pressuring me to leave the hospital. They don’t think I belong here. I haven’t even told them about what goes on …the forced feeding …stuff like that.”
“Did they say why?” Dr. Murray asks.
“They noticed the bruise on my neck and asked the nurse supervisor about it. She told them about Margaret attacking me in the dayroom. I’m sure she didn’t say all of it. But my mom cried.”
“You don’t tell them what goes on here? Why not?” Isabel asks.
“I …don’t know.” Beth looks at her blankly.
“Keeping things from your parents, Beth, when did that start?” Dr. Murray asks.
“Well, I remember when my classmates used to tease me every day at school. I didn’t tell my parents about that. Gosh, that was grade school.”
“The kids teased you?” Heidi looks shocked.
“Yes. They used to call me Lambchop.”
“Lambchop? Like the puppet?”
“Yes. You know what? I really did look like Lambchop. I had big bulgy eyes, thick bangs.”
“Well, you obviously got revenge,” Autumn says.
“What do you mean?”
“Ah, you’re gorgeous?”
“Beth, you’re a beautiful girl with great talent. I know you were a star at Interlochen Arts Academy. Harp and violin, right?” Dr. Murray asks.
“And voice,” Beth says. “All of that is over now.”
“What do you want Beth?” Dr. Murray asks. “Do you feel you want to leave the hospital? Your weight is still low. You haven’t yet met your clinical goals.”
“I don’t know. I hate seeing my parents upset.”
“Jesus Christ. Your parents?” Heidi says. “What about you?”
“Heidi has a good point,” Dr. Murray nods.
“I’m okay,” Beth says quietly.
“Yeah, right,” Isabel rolls her eyes.
“I want to be a good patient. I don’t want to bail out on you guys. But my parents aren’t happy. I don’t know.” The group falls silent.
I don’t know what to say. Beth is such a cute girl, kind and polite. Even after hearing her talk in group, I still don’t understand the eating problem. I can’t make sense of my own life, let alone Beth’s. Feeling like you don’t measure up, that I can understand. I should say something, but it seems like such an effort.
“It’s not a big deal. It’s stupid, really. I can’t make the simplest decision,” Beth says.
“It most certainly is a big deal,” Dr. Murray says. “This is your life. You have to do what you think is best for you.”
“My parents expect I’m going to Julliard, even now. I’ve been accepted, but I can’t go.”
“Why not?” Heidi asks.
“I don’t deserve it.”
“Of course you deserve it, kid,” Isabel says. “Having all your talent, that’s real special.”
“You’re right. I should be grateful. I don’t know why I feel this way. I just don’t know.”
After about two minutes of shuffling and sighing, Estee speaks up. “I have no idea what you should do.” She scratches her arms. “I’m pretty sure I’m crazy again. They must have done something to my meds.
“Are you doing okay on your medication, Estee?” Dr. Murray asks.
“No, I’m not. You’re trying to poison me. We’re all going to rot in here. I guess Luanne was the first to go. One minute she’s here, they swoop down, snatch her up, drag her down to the bowels of hell.”
We all stare at Estee, until Beth breaks the silence. “I want you guys to help me.”
“What would you like to do?” Dr. Murray asks again.
“I want to get better, leave here some day. Not now.”
“Well, there’s your answer. Do you want me to talk to your parents with you, Beth? Try to explain again about your disorder?”
“You won’t say anything to upset them.”
“Beth, I’m on your side. The main thing you can do is try to get your weight up to ninety pounds. Then you can transfer to Hall 9.”
“I’ll try. Thanks.”
“You must gain weight, Beth. Otherwise, you will stay on 5. You need to gain at least one pound this week. Do you understand?”
“Yes, doctor.”
“Why don’t you just eat?” Isabel asks.
“I don’t know.”
“It’s not that easy for Beth,” Dr. Murray explains. “She has an illness.”
“I don’t have any place to go.” Heidi brings the focus to herself. “Livin’ with my dad up above Randy’s Party Store all my life, then bein’ out on the street. I hated high school. Don’t have no education. My mom’s such a bitch. She don’t want me.”
“Maybe my parents could help you?” Beth says.
“Your parents?”
“Well, my folks have money. They could give you a loan or something.”
“Oh Jeez Louise.” Heidi shakes her head. “They’re gonna give money to some whore off the street you met up with in the loony bin. Oh, brother.”
“I’m just trying to help.”
“The reason you’re in my group is because I believe you’re all going to get better and leave the hospital,” Dr. Murray says.
I really wonder about that. I can see now that Estee is seriously ill, a real mental case. What if Dr. Murray says that to everyone?
“I just want to see my kids,” Autumn says.
“Autumn, I’m going to request at the next clinical team meeting that you be allowed visitation with your children.”
“Really?” Autumn shifts in her seat and looks around the group.
“Are you ready for a visit, Autumn?” Dr. Murray asks.
“To tell you the truth, I’m scared to death.”
“What are you afraid of? They’re your kids,” Heidi says.
“I’m afraid to see the hurt in their faces. Afraid they blame me for what happened …”
“What did happen, exactly?” Isabel says.
&n
bsp; “Jeez, well …well, that night he came over to pick up the kids for visitation. He was so drunk he could barely stand up…” Autumn pauses, leans forward, then back. “He yelled at them to get their coats on. When I tried to say something, he called me …a …terrible name …”
“Go ahead and tell us what he called you, Autumn,” Dr. Murray says.
“A worthless cunt. That’s what he called me that time.”
“Jesus,” Isabel says.
“He yelled and swore, on and on and on. I told the kids to go to their room, they weren’t going.” She reaches for another tissue. “I was scared to death, but I couldn’t let him take the kids.”
“You were very brave, protecting your children,” Dr. Murray says.
“Thanks. The rest is kind of a blur … He was on me before I knew what happened,…slapped me around …”
“Oh, my gosh,” Beth says.
“This happened all the time when we were married. Jim beating the living shit out of me. The bastard.”
“Go on.”
“I feel like I’m back there. Look at my hands shaking. I …I don’t think I can go on. Sorry.”
“That’s okay, Autumn. Before we schedule your children for a visit, I’ll help you prepare. Who else has something they would like to share?
“Me. I have something,” Heidi says. “Whew …okay …well …oh, never mind.”
“Go ahead, Heidi,” Dr. Murray says.
“Well …Something really bad happened to me when I was doin’ drugs.”
“It’s okay, kid,” Isabel nudges Heidi with her shoulder.
“I don’t have any eyebrows ‘cuz they shaved off all my hair. My eyebrows didn’t grow back.” Heidi bites her lip.
“They?”
“The guys who attacked me.” Heidi brings her hands to her face.
Dr. Murray reaches out and squeezes Heidi’s arm. Beth snatches two or three tissues out of the box and hands them to Heidi.
“Jesus Christ. Did you call the cops?” Isabel asks.
“Hell, no. You kiddin’? They would’ve busted me for drugs. I didn’t tell nobody.”
“Men are pigs,” Autumn says.
“Yeah.” Heidi wipes her eyes with a wad of Kleenex. She takes a deep breath and tries to smile.
“Can you talk about the attack, Heidi?”
“No, no …not …I’m not ready.”
“Whenever you’re ready, we’re here to listen.”
“Yeah, thanks. Anybody else want to talk?”
“Well, I just want to say I love you,” Isabel says. “I’ll be your mother.”
“Damn it. Don’t make me cry again,” Heidi says. “Gimme a break.”
Chapter 14
I press my forehead to the glass around the nurses’ station. “She swallowed something again.” Nurse Judy Reinbold and two attendants hustle through the door toward the dayroom.
“Agnes, what did you swallow this time?” Nurse Judy asks.
“My spoon. From lunch.” She lifts her state-issue, pokes around on her stomach. We all keep track of how many items Agnes swallows, even make bets on what she’ll eat next. In the month of December alone, she swallowed fifteen coins, several pop bottle tops, a screw, a crochet hook, a needle, twenty-five beads from OT, bulletin board tacks, and one of the rings off the draperies. Now we can add a spoon to the list. I heard that since Agnes arrived at the hospital a year ago, she’d been in surgery five times. I figure surgery is reserved for the large or particularly pointy and dangerous items she swallows. Castor oil and stomach cramps escort the less damaging items through her system.
“A spoon?” Nurse Judy tips the patient’s head, fishes around in the back of her throat.
“Did it go down?” She runs her fingers along her neck.
Agnes coughs. “Uh-huh. I feel it right here.” She presses her sternum, coughs again, gags.
“You’ll need x-rays, Agnes.” Nurse Judy guides Agnes to her feet, and with her arm around the patient’s shoulder, leads her out of the hall.
“There she goes again,” Isabel says.
“Why does she do that?” Estee asks.
“Agnes just likes attention.”
“Maybe she’s trying to kill herself,” Beth says.
“There’s easier ways to kill yourself,” Heidi says.
“Tried it?”
“Yeah, once. I O.D.’d. My dad kicked me out and I had no place to go. I screwed a guy for some quaaludes. Ate ‘em down as quick as I could, chased ‘em with cherry schnapps. The puke stain’s probably still on the sidewalk in front of the bank.”
“Do you think I’m trying to commit suicide? Like Agnes?” Beth looks down at her feet. “You know, the eating problem? I know if I don’t eat, I’ll …I could …die …but … I …just have to get off Hall 5.”
“You want to eat?” Isabel asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Luanne, you tried to kill yourself, right?”
“Yeah. Like I said, I can’t really remember.”
“My mom’s coming this weekend,” Autumn says. “They won’t let me see my kids yet. Mom said they made me some gifts in school.” She sniffs and wipes her nose on her sleeve.
“I don’t want to see nobody.” Heidi picks at the skin along her hairline. Her eyebrows, drawn on by an attendant, are crooked. “I wrote a letter to my boyfriend, but I don’t have his address.”
“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” Estee says, scratching her arms and legs.
“Tripper. He’s nineteen. He’s lookin’ for work, so he probably won’t visit me. But he loves me like crazy. I met him in the park one night, and he let me stay with him in his trailer. It was a really nice place, had heat, real cozy.”
“Were you out on the street?” Beth asks.
“Yup. I kinda’ made the rounds with my friends, but I slept in the park a few times, had to.”
“Thought you were living with your dad,” Isabel says.
“Yeah, I was, but …I just couldn’t stay there anymore.”
“Why’s that?”
“My dad was getting weird …I don’t know.”
“Weird?”
“He was drunk or high a lot …just weird.”
“Beth, are your parents coming this weekend?” Isabel asks.
Beth pulls her turtleneck over her knees, sits like a crow on a wire. “Yes. But I have to talk to them about visiting so often. Dr. Murray thinks their visits upset me.”
“Yeah?”
“They ask about my weight …she …ah, the doctor …thinks that’s harmful to my progress. My mom always cries.”
“Maybe the doc doesn’t know what she’s talkin’ about. Ever think of that?” Heidi says, “I haven’t had one fuckin’ visit from nobody. Neither has Estee.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m lucky to have my parents,” Beth says quietly.
“I don’t really want to see my husband. I don’t know why,” Isabel says. “I guess I’m ashamed of how I treated him.”
“When you were drinking?” Autumn asks. “Dr. Murray says it’s a disease.”
“Disease or not, I’ve got a lot of apologizing to do.”
“To who?”
“My kids, my husband. Everybody, really. My parents, they don’t understand …Jesus, I almost said my foreman.”
“Foreman?” Heidi asks.
“At work. The guy who supervised us. But I don’t owe my foreman an apology. He’s still an asshole, whether I’m drunk or sober. Which is beside the point, I guess. I was the one who screwed up. They fired me. I was a complete fuckup for three years. A big fat drunk who didn’t think about anybody but myself. My oldest boy told me I ruined his life.”
“But you quit drinking, right?”
“I’m trying this time. I love my kids.”
“I wish I had somebody to visit me.” Estee’s mouth sticks together at the corners as she talks. “My grandmother would come, but she lives so far away. She writes me every week.”
“What about
your folks?” Beth asks.
“My dad left when I was six, my mom is crazy, certifiable.” She arches her back and kinks into a contortion, her clawed fingers slide back and forth across her spine. By this time everyone in our group has earned the privilege of wearing street clothes. Heidi and Autumn’s come from the emporium of donated clothing in the basement of the patients’ library. Estee is back in state-issue after her breakdown a few days ago. I’d been sitting in the dayroom reading my letters again when I heard the racket from the hallway.
“Who put this up? Who put this up here? Who put this up here?” Estee stomped her feet, pointed up at the bulletin board where a patient had put up a knitted peace sign she made in OT.
“Settle down,” the attendant said.
“Heretics! Devil worshippers!” Estee shouted. “That symbol is blasphemy, drawn by the devil himself. Take it down, take it down immediately.”
I hustled into the hall, placed my hands on Estee’s shoulders. “Estee, come on now. The peace sign is a good thing, means peace.”
“Can’t you quiet her down?” Heidi looked toward the nurses’ station.
“Peace symbol, my ass. Don’t you see it? The communists love to see this crap spread all over the place—people sticking up their fingers in a vee—don’t you see? Russia loves this shit, proves we’re being taken over by atheists and dark angels.”
“All right, all right, calm down now.” The attendants took Estee by the arms, shooed Heidi and me back to the dayroom.
We stood at the door, watching. “Damn it. She’s wigged out again,” Heidi said.
The attendant stripped off Estee’s clothes, bent her over a chair. After they injected her hip with a tranquilizer, they slipped a state-issue over her head, and sat her down. I was worried. Estee hadn’t been making much sense lately, but at least she was quiet about it. Now she was ranting and raving. Within seconds, Estee’s head began to bob.
When Autumn and I pick her up for dinner, she’s lying on the floor, legs splayed, out like a light. We each take an arm, lift her, steer her down the hall to the dining room. Autumn guides Estee by the arm, pulls out her chair, and helps her sit down. A small stream of saliva runs down Estee’s chin.
“What’s wrong, Estee?” Isabel asks.
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