I am devastated. I actually thought I was going to be set free. I had visions of my big fat cat, Lefty, sitting on my chest and trying to claw my eyeballs out. I had visions of me watching college basketball all weekend in an orgy of tortilla chips, chicken wings and beer. I had visions of me sleeping in a room by myself without crazy people screaming about nicotine patches and lesbian rape.
Dr. Gellar saw this and threw me a bone. “I will transfer you to a voluntary floor, if you’ll agree.”
“Agree to what?” I dared.
“To get the care you need,” was his quick answer. “Maybe Monday I will discharge you. Not before then.”
My head fell into my hands and a million suns burned in my head. But for the first time in five days, I didn’t puke.
1 comment:
This is my story too. Exactly 8 years ago. Involuntary incarceration in MMC psych ward. Too much to write about it here. Maybe later, in my own blog. Much to say and not enough time to say it.
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