Returning to the institution after visiting my Mum felt very strange. Tyler and I had been through so much, yet as we walked through the familiar corridors, I felt an odd sense of... I don't know exactly, but something didn't feel right, put it that way.
Tyler, ever the professional, quickly resumed his duties, checking on patients and reviewing treatment plans. However, I couldn't shake the feeling that more needed to be done. One evening, we sat in his office reviewing patient files.
"0423961, Susanne Kessler. Came in for Claustrophobia two years ago, treatment ongoing, still exhibits fear responses when presented with pictures of small spaces. She can stay." He murmured, chucking the folder on top of a growing pile of other folders. Then he continued,
"091893, Henry Lovell-Jones. Came in for Arachnophobia last year, treatment ongoing. Fear response is improving but still needs work..." he read lazily, his voice droning as he skimmed the text.
"Is this really how you review them?" I interrupted, looking concerned as I gestured to the pile.
He slowly lifted his head to meet my gaze, a bored expression on his face. "Do you suggest a better way?"
"Well... I've been thinking, actually," I began, watching as he dropped his head to the paperwork again. "What if we made some changes around here? Like, what if we make it more... liveable for everyone?"
He stopped and leaned back in his chair, a curious look on his face. "I'm listening. What do you have in mind?"
"Well," I said, leaning forward over the desk, my fingers slyly pushing the paperwork away, "we could start with the cafeteria, at least. Redecorate it, paint the tables and chairs, maybe even new coffee machines. I think a few changes like that could make a big difference. It could improve morale, not just for the patients, but for the staff too."
He looked away as he mulled it over for a moment, then turned back to me, clasping his hands together. "Alright, if you say so."
-
And my little convincing worked. Within a week, the cafeteria was transformed. Gone were the cold, grey walls and harsh lighting. In their place were warm, inviting hues of yellow and orange, creating a cozy, welcoming atmosphere. The tables and stools were repainted, giving the room a fresh, vibrant look. New coffee machines were installed, filling the air with the aroma of fresh coffee.
A new menu was introduced as well, replacing the gross, unappetising glop of mush with fresh, delicious meals meant to satisfy the hungry patients and provide proper nutrition. The dinner ladies' moods changed too, for the better. Now, they greeted each patient with a smile and options to choose from.
The changes were immediately noticeable. Patients overall seemed more relaxed, their usual guarded and terrified expressions softening. Staff members smiled more often and improved productivity levels. The overall mood of the institution lifted within the space of just three weeks.
-
One quiet afternoon, I decided it was time to address all the patients. I had plans that I wanted to share, with not just them and the staff, but with Tyler too. I didn't tell him the full plan, because I knew that there was a strong possibility that at least one of the changes I wished to make would be rejected.
I instructed the staff to bring all 117 patients into the cafeteria for a meeting. For many, it was their first time outside their rooms in months, even years. The atmosphere was thick with nervousness and apprehension as they filed in, their eyes darting around anxiously.
YOU ARE READING
Fear
RomanceIt's been five years since that fateful Friday night. I remember it like it was yesterday. Now look at me. If you'd told me five years ago that I'd be kidnapped and fall in love with my kidnapper, I would have laughed and said, "Don't be ridiculous...
