I stood there, frozen to the floor boards. My arms red, and my face red and puffy from hours of crying. I turned around and saw my mother standing behind me, tears streaming down her face, and then I blacked out.
All I could remember from yesterday were the worst things, not the ambulance coming and driving me to the ER and mental side of the hospital. I don’t remember seeing my mother break down and cry in the middle of the waiting room in the mental hospital. I don’t remember Brian pleading Mrs. Sarah to take him to the hospital to see me, and her finally saying ‘yes’. I don’t remember being handcuffed to the bed or waking up to an empty room.
I slowly opened my eyes to a blurry, empty room with sounds of beeping noises all around me. I tried to move my arms to rub my face but I realized I couldn't move them. I kind of just sat there and stared into the white walls of this hospital until a nurse walked in. She carried a clipboard and two pens, she checked my heartbeat, pulse, the usual, before sitting in a chair in front of my bed. She scribbled something down on the clipboard before speaking.
"Name. Age. Height. Weight." She said to me sternly, while her eyes flickered to my fidgeting hands.
"Um. Kasey, 13, 5"6, and 75 lbs." I barely whispered, while she scribbled down my answer on her clipboard.
"Well hello, Kasey. How are you feeling?" She asked me, her pen getting ready to write.
"Scared." I answered, my heartbeat started to speed up again.
"Kasey, do not be scared. My name is Mrs. Wilson and I am your physical and mental therapist, here to help you come back down to Earth again. I am not here to frighten you, just to help you regain awareness again. Today, I am just starting off by asking a few questions to get to know you better and gain some knowledge about why you are here. I know you are scared, but while you are here, you should not be. The police officers handcuffed you so you did not hurt yourself last night while you were unconscious. Just bare with me, Kasey, and we will get through this together. First, do you have any questions?" She asked me, showing a weak smile peaking through her stern face.
"Why am I here? How did I get here? Where is my mom? Where are my friends? Why am I in so much pain? Why am I handcuffed? How long do I have to stay here for?" I asked, my face becoming angry again for no reasonable explanation.
"Good questions. You are here because yesterday you had a relapse after yelling at Mrs. Sarah and began to cut again. Mrs. Sarah called the police and they came to check on you and the situation. As soon as they arrived, your mother pulled up for her monthly visit. Your mother asked to use the bathroom and when she came out, you were standing there. You turned around and saw her then blacked out, which is when the police called an ambulance. The officers handcuffed you to make sure you did not self-harm again or did something you would later regret. Mrs. Sarah then told your mother to stay at the clinic in case you came back early. Brian was scolded to stay at the clinic, but after much pleading, Mrs. Sarah told him to ride with the police officers to the mental hospital with you. So now you are here, supposedly under serious watch, but I told the doctors to lay off of you until you are fully aware of the situation. So you are not under as much security as you should have been. Brian is outside in the waiting, and will probably be there for only tonight then back to the clinic until you come back.
After your little incident, the clinic is under strict lock down, so when you go back, you will be under serious watch until you have regained stability. I don’t know why you are in pain, mostly from your deep cuts yesterday, but even then we gave you enough antibiotics so the pain should leave soon.
Last but certainly not least, you have to stay here for one week at max. Because of your condition, in my opinion, you should be here for at least until tomorrow morning. From what I can tell at the moment you are already stable enough to go home but the mental hospital just wants to make sure." Mrs. Wilson told me hesitantly.
I heard a knock on the door; Mrs. Wilson placed her clipboard down on her chair to check, to see who the mystery stranger was. She peered out and then walked back startled before she opened the door to see a police officer and my doctor standing there. The doctor in the white coat walked in first, followed by the officer who arrested me. He started to check my pulse, heartbeat, etc., before ushering the officer to me. The officer’s name tag read ‘Joe’, so I decided upon calling him that.
"Joe, when are you going to take off these handcuffs?" I asked, politely but smirking in a devilish way, causing Mrs. Wilson to take notice.
"Kasey please call me Officer Jenkins or Mr. Jenkins rather than Joe." Officer Jenkins told me, slipping the key into the lock, therefore unlatching my handcuffs.
"Kasey! How are you doing this fine evening?" The doctor then asked me, taking notice of no emotion towards, when Officer Jenkins took off the handcuffs.
"I am okay, better, now THAT MY HANDS ARE FREE!" I emphasized, while Officer Jenkins, the doctor, and Mrs. Wilson chuckled; self-esteem raised: check.
"Haha well, that is superior. Today I am just going to bandage up your cuts, check up on some small things, and then you may leave the hospital. Mrs. Wilson, if you would just finish up with some simple questions, then I will be back in here for a minor physical. Thank you." The doctor said, smiling at us then walking out but then stopping to add a quick remark. "Oh and by the way, my name is Dr. Phillips if you have any questions or concerns."
"Well, Kasey, let’s finish up these questions then you can leave." She said smiling at me, making myself a little bit more comfortable, now that my hands were free. Before she started, Mrs. Wilson allowed me time to look at my cuts, I had made yesterday. They were awful. The only words I could officially state, my arms were red and swollen while the cuts still had dried blood. The cuts weren’t too, too deep, but I know I need to be stronger when I am involved in an argument next time.
"Okay, now that we are settled and our minds our focused, let’s continue. What were your feelings towards Mrs. Sarah when she, so to speak, accused you?" She asked me, her pen already set to write.
"I was angry that she thought I wasn’t eating just for attention purposes. I also strongly disliked that she would punish me for such thing, it just sounded stupid and crossed my line." I replied, sitting up a bit straighter.
"When you first locked the door and shut the security cameras off, did you expect that you would then have a relapse and begin to cut again?" Mrs. Wilson interrogated me.
"Yea, I just felt like no one else really cared enough, the devil in the back of my mind took over again. It wasn’t me that was doing the cutting but the devil deep inside." I said, watching as she wrote everything down before sighing.
"Last question then I will let you go. You said that the devil took over your body so you couldn’t do anything, what did that feel like?" She asked, her eyes speculating my fidgeting hands.
"That question only yourself can answer. Until a person experiences a traumatizing experience which brings depression into play, only you can feel the pain. I could sit here and describe everything I felt but it would never compare to how I truly felt.
When things like what happened this morning, occurred; all I feel is pain. My stomach grows with anxiety and butterflies, but not the kind you feel when you are in love. The butterflies are foreshadowing the future events, such as cutting again. The devil in my mind replays the death of my sister, the words my parents said to me, the bully’s harmful words, and the anorexia taking its time in the cycle. My mind focuses solely on the bad things that have happened in my life, never the good things. The devil tells me I am too fat and should stop eating completely, he tells me that I am a no good human being. He tells me that I killed my sister, that it was my entire fault.
He tells me things he wants me to be not who I should be. I feel like. if I just died, right then and there, the fight between myself and the devil would end. That I could just end up in hell and he could laugh at me there, he could tell me how happy he is to see me dead. You could tell me that all these things I am thinking in my mind are wrong, and I would say the same thing until he comes back for another fight.
Depression doesn’t end, when one small fight occurred could set me off, almost like a ticking time bomb. If someone walks up to me tomorrow when I go back to the clinic and they say that I deserve to rot in hell; it would kill me. I would break down again because I know it’s true, and so does the devil.
So there you have your story for the newspaper, you have information from a mentally ill source about why patients cut and commit suicide. The devil is the source of all evil."
I sighed, then rolled onto my side and fell asleep, knowing completely that I may just be in this hospital for more than a day.
The next morning I awoke from my slumber, staring into the white walls again and realizing that I am alone. I stared to the right of the wall at the clock that read 8:07 a.m. I cannot believe I slept for 15 hours but maybe that is all I truly needed, a good night sleep. I punched a number on the bed, syncing the machine to move my bed up to a half-lying position. Then I punched the nurse number, I was a bit hungry and quite confused, forgetting my confessions last night to Mrs. Wilson.
The nurse walked in with her clipboard in hand and a tray of breakfast which looked absolutely horrendous. The cereal looked more like a bowl of slob and the apple was on the side of rotting. I might have actually puked a little bit in my mouth just staring at it. The nurse set the breakfast in front of me and walked out of the room, but before she did I had some questions to ask.
"Nurse?" I questioned, calling forth for her attention, she turned around.
"Yes, Ms. Kasey?" She asked me, smiling and walking towards my bed again.
"Am I allowed to have visitors today?" I asked, smiling as she moved the disgusting cereal aside.
"Yes. Dr. Phillips said he would be in momentarily for a midmorning check up before your departure." She told me, smiling again before leaving the room, while the doctor pranced in.
"Good morning, Kasey!!" Doctor Phillips excitedly pronounced, checking the usual beeping noises.
"Morning Doctor." I replied, smiling.
"Ready to leave today?" He asked me, his smile returning.
"Yes!" I yelled, a bit too loud.
"Good! Okay, so Mrs. Wilson’s questionnaire is over with, and your mother sent in your most recent physical so you are allowed to leave. Now let me just take off your IV lines and give you time to dress in these clothes your mother brought." He said handing me the folded clothes.
"Thank you Doctor Phillips." I replied by smiling before he almost left the room.
"By the way Kasey, I hope I never have to see you back here again." Then shut the door.
A New Beginning - Part 12What is depression?
By Kendall Zacker