Patient 00091

Trapped

  The past three months had finally caught up to me. Now I was being locked up in this old damn hospital. A nurse asked me to follow her, through the awfully bright-lit hallways of the place. I'd forgotten which floor we were on at this rate...maybe the fifth? All I could look at was my feet, as they trudged me along the disgusting hospital floor. I was wearing these bright yellow socks with special rubber bits on the top and bottom, and you could tell they were a bit too big for me. Cheaply made hospital socks...made for the betterment of sales and profit rather than patients' comfort. 

We made it to the end of the hallway, where the nurse led me into a turn that led to another elevator. I walked in and I watched as the doors of the elevator closed, blocking my view of a flower painting in the hallway that faced the elevator. I always liked the simple addition of hallway paintings in medical environments. But sometimes I questioned them. Who would have the time or clear enough mind to enjoy them? Maybe somebody like me, who only ever noticed the little things...but when it came to the obvious in life, I was oblivious. I peeked at the nurse, who pushed the button for the eleventh floor. I put myself in the corner of the elevator and looked down at myself. I had this long blue hospital robe with matching blue pants that nearly covered my feet. The robe reminded me of a toga from ancient times. I looked down at my left wrist, where I had my patient wristband with my name and birthday, along with a bar code, QR code, and two different sets of numbers. It read: Manson, Leah   DOB: 02/05/2010   035181968-3087   MRN: 0009139745 

Once we made it to the eleventh floor, we faced a closed office space with thick windows. The nurse told me to wait outside while she knocked on the door and was let in. She came back out with a blue folder and a binder full of papers. "We'll just go in here," she said, as she led me through a set of locked double doors, (she used her ID card to unlock it) and took me into the room to the left. It looked like a small classroom, but with thick windows. Every single door in this place was locked. Only staff could get in. Great. We get into the room, and the first thing I notice when I try to pull a chair out from the table is: these chairs are weighted. They're at least ten pounds. "Sorry, these are a little heavy," the nurse said, and she sat down across from me. "I'm going to ask you some quick simple questions." she said. 

  "Are you on your period right now?" she asked.

  "No," I said.

  "Is there a chance that you could be pregnant?"

  "No,"

  "Are you sexually active?"

  "No,"

  "Do you have any allergies?"

  "No,"

  "Do you have a history of anger issues or severely hurting anyone?"

  "No, not really," 

  "Good. Do you feel the urge to severely hurt or kill anyone?"

  "No,"

  "How badly do you want to kill yourself right now?"

  "At least a 7.5 out of 10,"

  "Do you currently take any medications for insomnia or to fall asleep?"

  "Sometimes, but not right now,"

  "And are you currently feeling any pain?"

  "Uhh...I guess not..."

  "Okay, thanks! I'll show you your room and your roommate."

She finished marking her papers in her binder, and she handed me the blue folder. 

  "What's this for?" I asked

  "Just some questions you need to answer while you're here," she said.

  "Oh."

She opened the door, and with a light, shy step, I followed her out into the loud hallway filled with the rowdy shouts of teenagers. At that moment, I assumed my role as the crazy girl who was now stuck in a mental hospital, on floor eleven, at thirteen years old.

It was at least 9:45 PM.