It's More of A "Hospital", Really...

Chapter 1

“Okay, so let’s start with the basics.”

“Full name?”

“Christopher Tyler Barlow.” He wrote slowly, clearly in perfect print. His eyes rolled up to look at me once, and I tried to smile, but it didn’t come. He finally finished and continued his inquiry.

“Date of Birth?”  He couldn’t have sounded more disinterested and annoyed. He continued to rolling his eyes back and forth from the form and then to me. He widened his eyes and enunciated: “Date. Of. Birth?”

“Oh, sorry. I was born um- on…uh…” I was drawing a total blank. Wow, good job, buddy, you can’t even remember your own birthday. “December 5, 1997.” I finally said. The… nurse (I guess) wrote down the date slowly again. I looked around the room, nervously. I began counting the dots on the ceiling. I got up to 34 before he stopped me.

“Reason for hospitalization?” he asked. The word hospitalization seemed like the worst word at the time.

“Extreme panic disorder.” The words ran together like ink when it gets wet. He glared at me, then gestated the information onto the paper. It seemed to take 50 years.

“How long have you had this disorder?” he said.

“For almost 3 years now.” I replied. There was a silence.

“Why do you think you need to be placed in a mental instit—a psychiatric hospital?” he asked.

“Yesterday I had a major panic attack and I thought I was dying. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think and I…I almost died…” my voice trailed off. I took a deep breath and waited.

“Well Mr. Barlow, you are 14, we only have wards for people 16 or older. And in your case, I believe you need to be placed somewhere where you get the help you need.”

“I’m only two years younger. I’ll be fine. Besides, my mum knows I’m here. I told her.”

“So where is she now-?”

“I had her sign the forms.”

“That’s uh… great…”

                “Please help me, mister. I don’t want to live like this anymore!”

                “Don’t worry, son, we have the best therapists and doctors in all of the state.”