The Stories~ Part 10 Freedom Longings

There are things in life that you often take for granted, until they are no longer available. Freedom of speech, Freedom of movement. The ability to say No.  After the run in with Nurse Ratchett, I began to scrutinize all that I had lost. I became incredibly suspicious of the nurses and doctors, afraid to say the wrong thing. Certain that one wrong word would land me there indefinitely....locked up, pacing the floors, losing my mind more and more each day. I I took to writing everything down in a notebook I'd packed...but in thinking that it would be found and read, I flipped to the back and wrote backwards. I had been there a week, and the longing and desire to just step outside those locked doors had become my sole focus. As I paced I thought through elaborate escape plans...in between moments of suicidal ideation. Since I was still unable to sleep or eat it was what I did for 24 hours...dream of escape.

Nicole came to visit me almost daily. Each day she was a little sadder as she regarded me. She picked up my longing to step outside...took in the defeated droop of my shoulders. When I couldn't sit, she patiently paced the solitary hallway with me...ignoring the insane ramblings of suspicion that tumbled from my lips.

My father respected my desire to keep the kids in the dark about the whole situation. He agreed to keep it to himself, not telling anyone in my family including my older brother and mother. He would stop in quickly after work, spend 20 formally awkward minutes in the chair opposite me, searching desperately for a topic of conversation...and on finding none, tell me he would be back the next day. Secretly we were both glad when he left.

When Dr. McD returned from holidays, it was to find a different person than when he left. I was silent, and withdrawn, mentally searching over each word before I allowed it to escape my lips. I had spiralled yet further into blackness, but being under 24 hour survellience, there was nothing I could do about it. The hauntings in my mind had found their way to my face....I was the walking dead.

It took him nearly a week to undo what had been done. He apologized profusely for keeping me on that sleep med, and completely switched it up. He also titrated up the celexa that I had been taking from 20 to 30 mg in an attempt to pull me back from the brink. The effect was almost immediate. For the first night in nearly 2 months, I was able to close my eyes and I slept a good solid four hours. Talk therapy didn't progress as well. I struggled to free the words in my mind, and Dr. McD. struggled to find a way to free them.

Finally the day came when I was given the privilege to walk outside with the activity director and other patients. Somewhere in my core a spark was kindled at just the thought of it. There was never anything as sweet as when I stepped out into that misty morning. The other patients chattered away aimlessly as they walked, but I tuned them out, focussing solely on nature. The sky grey, and the mist cold on my upturned face. I reached out and stroked the trees as we passed. Stopping to spot the bird when I heard a red headed flicker call. Rob stalled, unsure of my intent, but not even that presence could pull me back into the present situation. I breathed in the air....fresh and cold...a smell of distant snow...so unlike the stale recirculated air of the hospital.

All too soon the walk was over. I trudged back inside, Rob close by my side. In my mind I played over every moment...all the tiny intricate details of a 15 minute walk. It was painfully exquisite. I quickly put my music into my ears to tune out the click of the door, and as I resumed my restless pacing, I dreamed of freedom.