It's probably totally not politically correct to call the psyche ward a loony bin. But it is. Sooo interesting.
Let me say though the place is new and its beautiful. The furniture, whilst faux leather, is awesomely coloured and cute. Polka dots mixed with plain pastel colours. There are quite a few lounges with pretty tables added. In a couple of them there are giant humungous wall tv's. In the long beautifully appointed eating room are long tables and comfy dining room chairs. Along the wall are coffee and tea making equipment, toasters with endless breads, a fridge full of milks and juices. The counter is granite and the back splash is the latest tile design. The place looks like a well designed Holiday Inn.
But all of that is deceptive, to say the least. Sad, ill dressed people wander the halls. Their faces, for the most part display dead eyes, sallow skin and hair reflecting the use of drugs, prescribed drugs. They slowly walk by, no eye contact, mouths slack.
Then there are the overly rambunctious, overly friendly, overly talky, brains going a hundred miles an hour peeps. They grab your arm and effusively say, "Are you Monte's mom? Oh, he is amazing and wonderful!!!!! Do you know how talented he is? He plays the piano and the guitar amazingly!!!!!! We love it when he plays for us! Did he take lessons when he was little? Monte Monte Monte!!! Come!!! Lets go to the piano room!!! Come Come!!! Right now!!!"
So off we go, a little band of over enthusiastic talky people, mostly cougar aged women. We go into the piano room. Monte sits. He plays. He plays the most emotional, build up, intense piece he has ever written...about fifteen minutes long.
And let me tell you...he had those women in a frothy frenzy within nano seconds. They were twirling, spinning, arms up and swinging, then down on the floor, legs in the air bike pedalling to beat shit, then up, and kayayaying like eastern nomadic wanderers in a mesmerized trance. It was crazy! Fortunately Bingo was next on the list for that room so we all had to leave.
Today the police and the staff decided one of the patients had to be isolated for a while. Well, she didn't think so and she wasn't going to go. Holy Crap!!!! She was screaming and kicking and yelling and going nuts. One man in there started yelling at her to make sure she didn't take any pills they wanted her to take. "DON'T TAKE THEM SHAYLA, DON'T TAKE NO PILLS, DON'T DO IT!!!" He was not helping so yet more staff came and grabbed him and marched him down the hall to his room.
Meanwhile there is an Iranian gal, about thirty, that has latched onto Monte. And I mean that! She has a house in North Van and she wants him to move in with her and give her peace by playing the piano for her. He won't have to pay rent, just give her piano lessons. She gushed and gushed about him and his playing and how much she looked forward to him moving in with her....and her perfectly sane visiting boyfriend...who looked more and more alarmed as she talked, looked at me with complete desperation in his eyes.
One thing I do know about these places, patients pick up patients and take them home. Mom did that. Other people I know have done that. And here it was, happening before my very eyes. And Monte, dear sweet naive Monte, is truly believing every word she is saying. She was going to launch his piano teaching career. Ayayayaya!! I managed to deal with that, by being as manipulative and calculating and spin doctoring as those poor patients are, but jeez!
Monte, without question, is the sanest one in there. And the others circle him like he is the original piano god. Every time I go in there he is holding court in the dining area, discussing all things existential and they sit there sucking it up, clearly without a clue about what he is talking about. Including me. His convo's are way beyond my comprehension.
We have a family/doctor/social worker/nurse conference tomorrow morning. Hopefully he will be able to walk out of there, into his van and be on his way home.
Well, gotta bounce. It just dawned on me that I haven't heard from the hospital to confirm the conference. Gotta go call. TTYL
No comments:
Post a Comment