My mom, sister, and I were sitting
in what appeared to be a poorly lit waiting room. My sister began nodding off
as she sat there.
“The pill is beginning to have its
effect on her,” I exclaimed to my mom. “We better sign the paperwork before we
take our pills.”
The medical assistant came from
behind the counter and explained that although my mom and I could stay at this
mental hospital, my sister would have to be transferred to the mental hospital
in Minnesota.
I didn’t want this to happen. I
wanted us to stay together. I was worried my sister wouldn’t know what to say
to get the right care if she were transferred away from us.
I shook my sister, “Theresa! You have
to focus!” She opened her eyes and nodded her head. She seemed lucid. “When you
arrive in Minnesota, if you need anything, you have to tell them that Mom will
pay for it. Don’t worry about money. Mom can just give her credit card
information over the phone.”
Theresa affirmed she understood with
another nod. She didn’t seem panicked that she was being separated from us. I
thought it must be whatever drug they had given her. It helped her calm down
and relax, no matter what.
My mom and I were given our
medication and we took it without a thought. I wanted to feel as calm and
relaxed as my sister. However, as soon as I took my pill, I realized my mom had
not paid for Theresa’s accommodations at the Minnesota mental hospital.
“Mom, you better give your credit
card to this guy, now, before the pill begins to take effect,” I said as I
turned to face my mom. I saw that it was too late. She was already dozing off.
I shook my mom. She slowly lifted her eyes.
I felt exasperated. I knew it was
only a matter of time before I would be in the same state. I had to make sure
my sister was taken care of before it was too late. I yanked my mom’s purse
from her and took out her credit card and handed it to the medical assistant
behind the counter. He ran my mom’s card and gave her the receipt to sign. I
looked at the receipt and saw that she had to write the amount in.
“It’s $250, Mom,” I tried to explain
patiently. “All you have to do is right $250 and sign your name. You can do it.”
My mom just laughed absent-mindedly and wrote down $158. I sighed frustrated.
“She wrote the wrong amount,” I
showed the medical assistant the receipt.
“It’s OK,” he reassured me. He
corrected the amount and I finally began to feel calm. Although, the medication
was beginning to work its magic, I couldn’t disregard the uneasy feeling of the
upcoming separation from my sister. At the same time, I was relieved that I didn’t
have to go to Minnesota.
I thought, “Good thing this is the
second time Mom and I checked ourselves in to this mental hospital.”
I remembered that first time. I was
dressed in a rabbit costume, the kind that covered your entire body and head,
only my face was showing. It was hot in the rabbit suit and I was angry. As I
was recalling this event, I was confused by the fact that I remembered myself
with blonde hair and completely different facial features.
I remembered the first time I had
come to check myself in; I was pushing the other patients in the waiting room
out of my way. When one male patient tried to talk to me, I took a swing at
him. Needless to say, I was admitted without question. I couldn’t remember why
my mom admitted herself, maybe she wanted to keep an eye on me.
Soon the memory of my first visit to
the mental hospital began to fade away. In fact, every thought that flitted
through my mind felt blurry and heavy. I was warm all over and my limbs felt
completely relaxed. I felt peaceful and carefree and oh-so-tired. I thought to
myself, “I’m going to enjoy this sleep.”
No comments:
Post a Comment