Posted on 08/27/2003 9:09:43 PM PDT by Elisha
Ward Nineteen
I lay here on my bunk in Ward Nineteen, thousands of miles away from Ward Six where Chekov’s Doctor what’s-his-name, spent the last of his days. Sometimes as I lay here, I wonder about him. I just lay here in the dark, and think because that is all they allow me to do. Actually they try their damnedest to keep me from doing that, with all of the drugs that make me float on pastel colored clouds most of the day. Everywhere I turn, there are images of all the liberal icons of history. Morons, and traitors.
Once in a while, between doses, I have a moment or two, when I can think rather clearly. I, of course have given up trying to convince them I am sane. I have tried in the past, and they have just increased my dosage, so I have actually tried to play what it is, that I think they call sane, in the hopes that they will cut further back on the drugs.
I have decided that the best tactic, is to always act happy, like a blubbering idiot. Also I pay reverence to some of the pictures, when I pass. When I was sure they were watching, I went on tiptoes to kiss a picture of Jane Fonda (yuck!) I instantly knew that I had pushed myself too far, because I felt an involuntary retching. I quickly recovered by turning it into a case of the happies. I bounced away with a huge smile on my face, praying that they would not see my eyes. They seem most satisfied when I am walking around smiling and mumbling incoherencies to my self and gently patting my fellow inmates on the shoulder as I pass them sitting at their tables, engrossed in their daily routines.
Sometimes, one of the attendants will give me a second, quick, sharp look as if sensing that I may not really be happy. Instantly I put more happiness in the eyes, because that is where they can catch you. I am proud of the way that I have trained myself, but even now I slip up for a moment, infrequently. Usually after the second look, I see a relaxation in their eyes and expression, that they are satisfied that I am happy.
Then, after this masterful charade, I find that I can steal a moment or two, here and there, in a recessed alcove with my back to all, and let my face drop, and consider reality.
Sometimes I let my mind drift back in remembrance of the events, which led up to my extended stay in this fine institution. Always I am planning my escape, or a way to con them into believing that I am ‘cured.’
I have decided that the only way that I can ever get out of here, short of escape, is to convince them how much I love it here. As long as they suspect that I want to leave, they will never let me go. Just like a banker never lends money to a man that needs it. That leads me to believe that most mental health professionals probably minored in finance, in college.
All the doctors, nurses and attendants here seem to have the same smile. I used to think that they picked them up and put them on at the time clock as they start their shift, but now upon reflection, I recognize that smile as the same that the bankers used to wear, as they declined to lend me money, and I am convinced that they all were fitted for these smiles in college.
They have the happiest and warmest of smiles, splashed on to their faces, but the smile always stops at the eyes. In the eyes, instead of the warmth, you see that that they are happy, but it is a cruel happiness. They are happy in that this is the moment that they live for, when they can say no. The greater your need, the greater their pleasure, in saying no.
On the occasions when the banker says yes to someone, the same smile will be there, but in his or her eyes one can actually see just a trace of regret, that they had to actually say yes. Needless to say, they have always been very happy to see me.
I let my mind drift back to a day before this time began...
It was more than a year ago, in March 2003. There was a trial and many witnesses were called to tell their stories, to convince the judge that I was mentally ill, and a danger to myself and possibly to others...
“Will the State call its first witness please?”
“Yes, Your Honor. The state calls, Doctor blah blah blah,” the prosecutor, said, and then he turned to watch the doctor rise, make his way to the aisle, and to the witness chair. The courtroom stirred as everyone watched with him.
“Doctor, please state your name and address for the record,” the prosecutor said, trying hard not to show his pleasure. This was his favorite kind of case. Whenever he had someone committed, he always had a great feeling of validation afterwards, a reassurance that he was more sane than most. This feeling could last for weeks, and then it would be time to find another case. He really loved his job.
“My name is Doctor Iamsosane, and I reside at thebestplaceintheworldstreet,”
“Doctor, you are a doctor in the field of psychiatry, is that right?”
“Yes it is”
“You graduated summa Cum Laud, from the greatest university on God’s Green Earth. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes it is,” It was all the doctor could do, to keep himself from weeping with pride at the greatness of his accomplishment. This was indeed his favorite time in these proceedings, when once again, his greatness was proclaimed before men.
The prosecutor also seemed to be consumed with awe, as he asked, “Doctor you studied with what’s his name, one of the greatest men to ever wear a white smock, and upon his passing you picked up his mantle and you are now the tippety top man at the greatest institution that ever had the word psychiatry in its name. Is that not correct?”
“It is.” At last the doctor could hold back no longer and a lone tear strutted down his face, while the man’s face was angled in pride.
The prosecutor took a moment, as if to compose himself, so that he would not also begin weeping, too.
“I object your honor. The prosecutor is deifying the witness. There is something in the bill of rights that says that the state cannot establish a religion. It is obvious that you people are all worshipers of the great religion psychiatry and are here and now bowing down to this man as its Christ”
Every eye in the courtroom instantly stabbed into me, with disbelief and utter disgust, that I would dare irreverently interrupt their worship, with my irrelevant references to the Constitution.
The black robed Judge, after taking a full minute to tell me with his eyes, what he thought of me, said in his most judge like voice, “Young man, I will not allow you to make a mockery of this courtroom. I would advise you to be quiet. You will get your chance to speak in your defense.” Something in his eyes told me that the possibility that he would listen, would be remote indeed. Then his face changed back to adulation as he turned back to the doctor. “Please continue doctor.”
I sat back down and all eyes turned adoringly back to the doctor.
“Doctor, have you had an opportunity to examine the subject, Mr. blah blah?” the prosecutor asked, barely masking his indignation at being interrupted by me, a layman, and the defendant, a whacko to boot. He always found these cases, where the defendant acted as council on his own behalf, to be the most contentious, but still, ultimately, the most satisfying. He gave a big encouraging smile, to relax and reassure the doctor.
“Yes I have. I have spent several hours with the subject, in my office at the facility. It is a most unusual case. I have determined, beyond any doubt that Mr. blah blah suffers from a compendium of psychoses. Resulting in a profound depression and an utter disdain for the norms of good society, and no respect whatsoever for what we know to be sane and normal.
I will know much more after further study, but I can say without equivocation, that Mr. blah blah is a danger to himself and may under some circumstance, be a threat to the well being of other members of society. I am happy to say that with some new drugs, and other new methods of treatment, that have shown great promise, we may be able to cure him. His illness, though apparently in its early stages, appears to have progressed quite rapidly. A most unusual case.”
The doctor tried hard not to show his glee. He felt sure that with this case he would at last be published in the GREAT PSYCHIATRY IS GOD QUARTERLY REVEIW. If all went well, this might be the one that actually earned him the GREAT PSYCHIATRY IS GOD, AND I ITS CHRIST ANNUAL AWARD. He tested his face to make sure that it was still registering just enough compassion, while still emitting the ever present air of greatness.
The prosecutor stood back at his table, giving pause to admire the doctor’s air and his compassion, and stole a glance at the judge to make sure that the judge was suitably impressed. He was delighted to see that the judge was actually glowing in admiration.
The prosecutor, awakened the doctor from his reverie of the future, and brought him back to the courtroom, “Doctor will you elaborate a bit in layman’s terms so that even the dumbest of us, can understand, what kind of ailments this man has. Perhaps you could describe some of your sessions with him.”
“Yes, surely. He was brought to us three days ago. He voluntarily came in accompanied by his dear devoted wife” The doctor answered.
At this moment all eyes shifted to rest with compassion and empathy on my dear devoted wife (the simple-minded, traitorous, shrew, that every man should be so lucky, to have)
The doctor continued, “His wife and I had had a brief discussion by phone, and upon her telling me of some of his symptoms, and mentioning some of his behavior, I implored her to bring him to my office right away. She said that she would and I immediately buzzed my secretary to cancel all my appointments for the next hour. I recognized immediately that this was a severe and unusual case. I – “
“Doctor may I interrupt you for a moment, and ask you to tell us what it was that his wife told you, that caused you such immediate concern?”
“Er - yes of course. She told me that he had early on, exhibited antisocial tendencies. He had always been a smoker, and had an unreasonable fascination with guns. He actually owns one. She told me that she had tried for years to help him, but instead of improving, he was actually getting worse.
She told me that he watched almost no television. When he did watch it would mostly be news programs, but even then not, the tried and true, network news, but oddball stuff like Fox News, with an unmitigated bent toward right wing radicalism, and cold hearted, mean spirited conservatism. She said that he seemed to take perverse joy in watching Bill Reilly mock and tease some of our greatest liberal icons, such as the Clintons and their disciples.
He would rarely join her to watch Americas Favorites, such as “Who wants to marry a Queer Bachelor?” or “ Who Wants to Marry and Divorce a Millionaire and Take Him for Everything He Has?” He used to tell her that “All My Children” was an escape from reality for people who had no grip on reality, to begin with.
He sometimes spent hours on a right wing news discussion forum, called FreeRepublic.com
Then he really seemed to totally lose touch with reality, after reading, Ann Coulter’s “Treason” He came to believe that Joe McCarthy was a great American hero, and that Franklin D. Roosevelt, our greatest president was an unwitting pawn of communism.
She knew that she had to seek help when one Sunday morning, he threw his son’s television out a second story window and gleefully watched it hit the ground.” There was a loud collective gasp in the courtroom. “She said that he was mumbling something about not filling his son’s head with left wing propaganda.” This remark created a furor in the courtroom, because everyone instantly realized that this was implicating the more serious offense of a hate crime against the state.
The doctor went on, “She asked me if she should call the police on him, knowing that he had committed a serious violation of the Anti Destruction of Far Left Wing Propaganda Machine Act of 1992, by throwing the television out the window.
It was evidently not the first time he had been in breach of the law, but this was his worst and most public deed. She expressed a bit of apprehension that if she did not turn him in, that she might be accused of being an accessory. I assured her, that since she was seeking medical care for his codition that no one would find fault with her.”
The Prosecutor walked up to the Doctor extending his hand, and said, “Thank you so much doctor. We have heard enough for now. Your honor, I have nothing further for this witness. I may wish to call him back at a later time. If it pleases the court, I would like to call my next-“
“May I please object your honor?” I said, trying to hide the sarcasm that I felt.
As if I had jarred him from his favorite movie, the judges head snapped in my direction and he looked at me with ‘my gaze.’ I say my gaze, because he had a gaze, which he seemed to reserve just for me. I guess maybe he thought of it as his ‘defendant gaze,’ but for me, it was just ‘my gaze.’ His brows were scrunched, and his eyes focused to burn, like sunlight through a magnifying glass. He fixed me with my gaze and did not say anything until he had achieved maximum burn. “What is it now, Mr. Blah Blah?”
“Your Honor,” I said in my best ass kissing tone, “May I ask the world esteemed and reknowned, doctor a couple of questions, please?”
The judge looked quite taken aback. ‘My gaze’ was temporarily replaced with a look of hurt confusion. He looked at the prosecutor and the doctor who was frozen, half risen from the witness chair. He looked back to the prosecutor, as if hoping for a counter argument from him. The prosecutor just looked down at his shoes, sadly.
With barely hidden disgust, the judge, almost inaudibly said, “Very well.” And then said, “Please be brief, Mr. Blah Blah.’
“Thank you very much, your honor” I slowly rose to my feet, and notice the bailiff stiffen like a cat, ready to pounce on its prey. I smiled at him. He peered back at me with ‘my gaze,’ which he must have borrowed from His Honor. I walked a few paces to stand about 20 feet away from the doctor.
“Good Morning, Doctor. Do you recognize me?”
“Of course I do. You are Mr. Blah Blah, the newest of our patients.”
“When did you first meet me, sir?”
“When you came into my office, with your lovely wife, on Monday afternoon”
“Did I come to your office voluntarily?”
“Yes you did, young man. You are to be commended in recognizing the need for treatment. That is one of the reasons that I am so hopeful for your full recovery.”
“Thank you Doctor. Doctor please tell us more of how you determined that I was suffering from this compendum psychoses that you mentioned. Have you run into this type of case before?”
“No I haven’t but it is quite text book, I assure you. After hanging up the phone with your wife, I ran a search of your symptoms and all the textbooks pointed to your condition.”
“Would you mind sharing with the court, the name of the particular disorders that you have diagnosed me with?”
“Well, you are suffering from very severe case of Post Social Separation Trauma aggravated by a rather startling symptoms of neo-antinormal paranoid disassociation of reality. In addition I see some definite tendencies toward a mild, but treatable case of Homophobia.”
“I see, so that’s it?”
“Young man, I wish that I could put as brave a face on it as that, but, if left untreated the consequences would be dire.”
“Can you now, please explain what all those medical terms mean, so that we’ll all know exactly what the hell, you’re talking about.” I heard one soft titter from the back of the jury box, giving me a glimmer of hope, but sure that it was instantly silenced by a courtroom of ‘my gazes,’ just as I was getting from the judge and the doctor, who seemed to have mastered the look quickly.
Essentially, you have allowed yourself to be brainwashed by the propaganda machine of the vast right wing conspirators, which had temporarily gained a toehold in the American Consciousness for a very brief time. Remarkably that condition alone, can normally be treated on an out-patient basis. What makes your case extremely aggravated is that at an early age you had liberal exposure to organized Christian Religion (no pun intended)
The end result is that you are having a hard time separating reality from fiction, or at the least a great deal of trouble accepting reality.
All of this has been building for years, and culminated in your criminal act of destroying the television set, while uttering traitorous hate speech. But, it was really just a cry for help. And thanks to the action of your loving devoted wife, we are now in a position where we can help you. With treatments available today, there is a 97% rate of cure...”
-------
The treatments had been horrible.
They made me eat in a room where all the walls were covered with pictures of the liberal icons of the 20th century. If I closed my eyes, while I ate, they sent an electric shock through diodes in my chair. So I had no choice but to eat and overcome the natural tendency to gag on my food while looking at these people. Even though I managed to eat, my stomach never lost that queasy feeling, I eventually was able to retain my meals through the whole process, and then finally to eat, look at the pictures, and even appear to be the picture of happiness.
There were also sessions where I was inundated with years worth of audio visual images of liberals chorusing the talking points of history... It’s just about sex...salacious details.. no controling legal athority..Vast right wing conspiracy..there is no sex, with that woman, Monica Lewinski..etc etc
I was drawn back to the present as a light was being shined in my eyes. Immediately I put my biggest smile on, hoping that, my frown had not been too noticable. The attendant spoke gruffly, “Get up Mr. Blah Blah, the doctor would like to see you.”
I was led to the doctors office, the scene of many of my most traumatic treatments. I was dreading to find out what new treatment might be waiting for me. The doctor was not there yet, I was told to sit. I sat and waited for the doctor in happy anticipation of being further cured. The doctor came in after almost an hour, wearing a very fatherly smile, and came and put his hand on my shoulder.
"Mr Blah Blah, you have made amazing progress. I think I can see final success just a week or two away. I want to just run a few final tests on you."
“Are you sure, I’m ready doctor. I wouldn’t want to rush it.” I made my face fall a bit to show my sadness at the thought of leaving this fine place. I saw a hint of pride in the eyes of the doctor, as he saw my sadness.
“Mr Blah Blah, I understand what you’re going through. Many patients have been here before you. When they come in, they are agitated, afraid, and then they get used to us, and then they love it here, thinking they never want to leave. But all those before you who were cured, have left and successfully rejoined the outside world, and maintained the same happiness out there, that they have found in here. You will be no different my boy. Just trust me okay?”
“Well, doctor, as long as you’re sure.”
“Well, the results of the tests will really be the deciding factor. Are you ready to get started?’’ I nodded, not too eagerly.
“Good! Let’s get to it!”, He pushed a buzzer and an attendant came in and hooked up the lie detector equipment that, I felt I must be learning to beat.
“Do you remember how this goes? I hold up the picture. You look at the picture, identify the person and say either Hero or Villain. Ok. Here’s the first one.” He went through the usual photographs, and I answered correctly, feeling sure that I was beating the machine.
“Oliver North, traitor, villain”
“Very good, Mr blah blah!”
“George Washington, slaveholder, villain”
“Barbara Streisand, activist, hero"
“Jane Fonda, peacemaker, hero”
“Jimmy Carter, Nobel Peace Prize winner, hero”
And on and on it went. I didn’t know if I was going to be able to endure. My stomach was queasy. And then the pictures got tough, and I thought I was really going to lose my dinner.
“Ann Coulter, Liar, villain”
“James Carville, Destroyer of facist lies, Hero”
“Janet Reno, seeker of truth, Hero”
“William Jefferson Cinton, Greatest president, Hero”
“Ronald Reagan, war monger, Villain.”
“Al Gore, rightful president, Hero
“George W Bush, moron, Villain
There! I did it, and then there were no more. There was an expression of amazement on the doctor’s face. “Mr Blah Blah, that is remarkable. You passed that test with flying colors. There is one more little test. Here is a sample absentee ballot to test your ability to use reason and logic in matters of civics.
I took it from him, and looked it over. It was an absentee ballot with my name on it. It looked authentic. Apparently he just wanted me to fill it out, and pretend that it was real to see if I had the sense to choose between three candidates for president. This was child’s play. Hillary Clinton was obviously the correct answer. I checked by her name and handed it back to him.
You forgot to sign it, Mr Blah Blah. I quickly signed it, and handed it back to him.
He took it from me, and said, “Remarkable, Mr. Blah Blah, simply remarkable!” I felt quite proud that I was doing such a job of putting it over on hm. I could almost smell the outside air.
“Thank you Mr. Blah Blah, that will be all for now. I am going to put a tentative release date for two weeks hence. Your progress is simply amazing. I am so proud of you.”
-----
My wife comes to pick me up on the appointed day. The attendants and my wife all fuss getting me settled into the back seat of her soccer mom minivan.
She goes on and on about how great it is to have me out again, and all the wonderrul activites she has planned. She was going on and on, and I had on my best smile, putting everything I had into the eyes, knowing that she would be my toughest test. If I can just get home, get my bearings and put a few things together, that I’ll need, I can run away, anywhere, go live off the land...I know a little lake, where the fish almost jump right into the frying pan.
I was sitting there thinking these thoughts, at last the happiness was real, and when I dreamed of the future and my freedom, I finally, really was so very happy. I was just staring into space, into the future...
Then my wife put something into my hands, and I came out of my cloud, and looked down. It was a newspaper. I heard her say, in her giddiest voice, “Isn’t this the most wonderful news?” My eyes focused in on the picture of the smiling faces of Bill and Hillary Clinton and the accompanying headline:
Hillary Wins!! Monumental Absentee Ballots, put her over the top.
First woman President, says, “My faith in the American public is renewed. I feel validated.
I will continue to earn the trust and confidence of the American People...”
As my wife slowly drives us away, my consciousness fades out, in a cacophony of my tormented screaming and her maniacal laughter...into oblivion, here, where I shall remain...happy, in my world...
Copyright 2003 Wallace Freedman
FR gave me a place to practice quickly putting concise, pithy, sometimes witty thoughts into sentences and paragraphs. And then it gave me hundreds of readers, many of whom were always ready to comment, praise or damn what I said, challenging my written ideas and forcing me to improve them.
So Ward 19 was a little experiment, so what of it? Good for you for putting it down. It's just one class in your Writing 101 course. There are a hundred more classes to come.
But if a novel is your goal, I would suggest going the complete and detailed outline route. It's a rare writer that just puts each day's new ideas on top of yesterday's finished pages. That is for pros, and not even all pros, and certainly not for the first time novelist.
If a novel is too daunting, then aim for some short stories first. Think of the impact of Coffin Rodk! Aim to create such a short masterpiece, and you will have really done something.
Then when you have that under your belt, start writing the narrative of your novel, from the outline you are working on now.
Good luck,
Matt
You also had the fortitude to place something out here in the public eye on this thread.
Of the two, mainly because of the nature and tone of what I see from both...at this point I'll have to go with Elisha's, both from a literary and a reasoned/civil dialog standpoint.
Thanks, and forget what that Troll said. He/she/it just signed up 3 days ago ...
Well, there ya go ! That's better ! :O)
My sentiments, exactly.
Thank you, very much. It's a wonderful echo.
All of it? Great! I could tell you really loved it.
Yeah! What's that about?
Hey, no biggie. The 'Troll' relented on post 64 ...
hehe ! Cool. Thanks ...
Keep going and it will become a rave review.
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