Sunshine Psychiatric Hospital

I was sectioned into a room by myself. I was still wearing my bathrobe which they checked and found nothing Because i had been down this path before i had secretly stored some tablets in a secret compartment in my purse, when the attendees had left me alone at my unit. I knew how to get away with this. I wanted to use them to put me to sleep as i knew they would have prescribed half the medication dosage that i was used to.
This was not the first time i have been inside and spent days and nights in a psychiatric Hospital.
All up in two different countries it would be my sixth time. I knew the routine and i knew what they would try and make me do. I knew the environment and what was in store for me. I never felt as though i was like the other patients. The majority who would walk monotonously up and down drugged up to their eyeballs with their mouths hanging open. I didn’t want to mix with any of them. I’d creep and dart around the walls and doors when the coast was clear. To anyone else i was probably just as crazy in my actions.
I remember one frightening marvel that some limp wristed moron must have thought was a good idea. They played “Born free” none stop everywhere. The patients wailing in anguished torment during the refrains.
“Born free, as free as the wind blows as free as the grass grows……”
All together now,
“Born free…..”
Some of the patients would be singing a few words behind the beat. Some would be shrieking in some other tongue. And one individual with enough grey matter still pulsing in his skull would rush in shouting to one of the singers, “Shut the fuck up ya carrrrn’t fuckin sing.
“Yes i can. I’ll fuckin burrrn ya. I’ll burrrn y’ alive. Nothin wrong me singing ya fuckin ****”
Karaoke sessions were a glimpse of hell in full swing.
My nurses kept on saying to me.
“Jayne, you won’t get better in here all by yourself. You have to get out here and mix in with everyone.”
You have got to be fucking kidding, i kept thinking. Mix it with Satan’s celestial nut choir?
Medication time was straight out of “One flew over the Cuckoo’s nest” a long line of addled slack jawed males and females trudging behind one another to the dispensary trolley. I refused to join the “Born free” queue. Instead they would come down in my obstinacy, and give me my medication in my room.
I did not have any visitors at all during my five day stay.
Mentally i was still thinking of suicidal thoughts. I was so alone and lost. My days spent crying under the sheet, curled up in a fetal position. The nurses failed to redress my feet that were seeping puss and blood over the white sheet. This was distressing me further.
In my pain i prayed to Jehovah. I asked him to take me away. “I’m no good on this earth. Why are you keeping me here?” And i prayed to him to look after Warren.
“I’m really so sorry Warren!”
I had several psychosis chats in the Quiet Room with doctors, while a nurse was present.
The root cause of my crisis was analyzed in depth ad nausea. The causes already known but never satiated. The best thing to come out of my stay that i was finally diagnosed with OCPD, lucky me.