Day 3

I figured I'd come across a restraints and seclusion room at some point in my experience, but I hadn't expected it to pop up so soon. Little did I know that two of the doors I pass on a regular basis are entrances to seclusion rooms. I peered in to find an eerily empty space, greeted only by a bed in the middle and a long, foggy window, allowing only minimal traces of the sun and outside world in. I froze a little. I began wondering how often these rooms were still used, and figured there were plenty more where that came from upstairs, where the individuals spend most of their time.

In the nurse's station, my suspicions about Joseph were confirmed. There are indeed more reasons than just his rough exterior that keep others fearful of him. He is well-known to be a violent one, as I found out. A few weeks ago, he pushed one of the staff members down in a completely spontaneous moment of action. This left the staff member so injured that he is home bound for the next year. I'm not going to lie; I became a little fearful upon hearing this.

I joined a substance abuse recovery group today. It was probably among my favorites so far. Before the formal beginning of the group, the clinical social worker and one of the individuals were having a conversation about his upcoming birthday. "My birthday is September 18th," he began. "September 18th, 1961. I was born in 1961 and died in 1961," he remarked very matter-of-factly. "So you pulled a Lazarus on us and came back to life, eh?" retorted the social worker with a genuine smirk. The individual merely nodded his head. The social worker never questioned the authenticity of his statement, and seemed to have a very personalized relationship with everyone attending the group.

During the session, a man by the name of Richard was asked: "given the opportunity to leave the hospital today, would you return to cocaine?" To that, he quickly and without hesitancy responded "yes". "So Richard," asked the discussion leader, "you're willing to have to come back here for however long, just to get a two day fix?" "Yes, without a doubt" Richard responded again, very confidently. "Do you like being here?" asked the leader. "No, I don't--" "Then why would you do something that you know will guarantee you to land right back here?" Richard didn't know what to say to this, but never budged on his stance to do cocaine despite any and all consequences.

Witnessing his determination was heart-breaking, but I was sadly not surprised. To Richard, getting his fix would mean however-many-years back behind the fences of a psychiatric hospital, but he didn't care. He lived for his substance of choice, and his only motivation to leave the hospital was to do cocaine. His only motivation for living was to do cocaine. I became sorely preoccupied by the thought that he may or may not be able to break this cycle.

The recreation group lifted my spirits a little, however, and there was one lesson I learned today: do not underestimate the basketball skills of an older man. I lost to someone at HORSE today, and not by a margin either!