Today we got our Gift From God. Our baby newborn.
He sits and eyes the nurse's post and asks, and asks, and asks. Then he gets shown around: look, nothing but friendly people here and there, in the canteen and the halls, and the hospital rooms, too. But his eyes get big, and he steps back to safety - yet there's no safety because the Door has already been locked.
So he wanders back and forth on his thin confused legs, trying to find his place in the new reality and determine it's natural limits. Can you go outside? No. Where can I charge my phone, I don't have a charger with me? Ask someone to bring it to you. But can you go out at some point at all? When your doctor allows you.
Today's the first day of the New Psychiatry Year, today we get tons of people asking about admission. Oh, wonders, they can even get in without their SAT scores - but they still have to pass the interview with the Head of the 12th Unit.
And today we get our Bambis, lost and confused and a bit scared.
They'll be fine. They'll never stop wanting out though.
YOU ARE READING
12th Unit Stories
Non-FictionWhat happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Whatever happens in a psych hospital lingers in your head for an awhile. Do not expect horror asylum stories. Those are actually quite the opposite of my notes. Love your doctors. do no harm. don't drink coffee...
