Buckingham Nicks-Part II of Fritz Series

So I Go Insane, Like I Always Do

"Name, Lindsey Adams Buckingham, height 5'11, weight 185, hair dark brown, eyes blue, age 21, married, mother living, father deceased, one child female Sara Rhiannon-"the intake nurse looks up then down again, then up "Wife Stephanie Lynn Buckingham...You're not?" I pull at my white scrubs, staring down at my equally white and clinical canvas shoes "The one and only" she smiles, forgetting her detached professionalism, "I'm a big fan of yours and your wife of course" my smile is genuine, even under the circumstances it's nice to meet a fan.

"Well, thank you very much. Anyway I can get something to drink?" she looks around nervously, then hands me a bottle of coke from a cooler under her desk "I'm not supposed to give patients glass bottles...but well-" I put my finger to my lips "I won't tell a soul". I chug the coke in a few gulps then hand the bottle back to her obediently. She tosses it in the can, then returns to her paperwork "Umm where were we? Oh yes, reason for commitment, violent physical outbursts, potential homicidal and suicidal ideation..." she suddenly looks horrified that she gave me a glass bottle. I just smile.

It really does have rubber walls by the way...well Styrofoam but either way it's degrading and miserable. I'm poked and prodded by a medical doctor, asked more questions by a charge nurse. Given some "mood stabilizers" which I pretend to take but really spit out in a trash can when I'm alone, and I'm signed up with a personal evaluation with Dr. Hedwig Schlicz.the good doctor has royally fucked up and I intend to find out her game.

It's not the fact that she implanted bullshit in my head when I trusted her the most, it's the fact that she literally made me think I was going insane. That I was a danger to Stevie and Sara the two people in the world I'd give anything to protect. Now, my wife is a nervous wreck at home alone with our daughter who I haven't seen in seventy-two hours. My mother and brothers by now have been told about my "condition", mom demanded to speak with me on the phone and was told I'm not allowed phone calls for the first twenty-four hours. Good to know my overnight evaluation has been extended without anyone telling me.

"You gonna finish that sandwich?" an elderly man with a few days' worth of gray stubble looks at my lunch intently. He's hunched over, a wisp of hair atop his head. He's wearing a zippered jacket and slippers, his eyes blank...that's the future for me if I can't get the hell out of here. Morbidly, I imagine walking Sara down the aisle in a strait jacket. Not a good visual.

"Here" he grins digging into the sandwich like he hasn't eaten in weeks. "Thanks, my name is Henry! I used to be a particle physicist." That's damn depressing..."I'm Lindsey. I am a musician, at least in the real world." Henry sits next to me at the lunch table licking the remainder of the bread crumbs from his fingers "Really? What sort of music? Symphonies, concertos...oh I love a good waltz!"

"Erm...rock and roll mostly. And folk" his face falls "Oh, well I suppose if someone buys it than it's still counts." Nice guy. "I'll tell you what I've learned in the last twelve years I've been here. Don't make the orderlies mad, nod and smile a lot, don't complain, and take your meds. Oh and don't trust anyone with your stuff. Bunch of thieves around here, liars too! They took my spoon!" he screams the last bit, and the room goes still an orderly stepping forward then retreating when Henry lowers his voice.

"Sorry, it was my favorite spoon you know. It helped me focus" Riiiiiiiiiiight "I'm sorry about that Henry-so who's your doctor?" I don't want to rile him up again but I am on a fact-finding mission. If it weren't for the fact that I could be stuck here with Henry for the rest of my life this might be cool. Like a spy film.

"Oh, the German...Schlicz. She's a nasty piece of work she is. Half of us are her patients, I didn't play along with her treatment so she had me legally committed. My wife...she signed the papers she was so upset, now I'm stuck here" she's done this before then, twelve years for defying her treatment. I have to be careful..."What was your treatment?" he laughs humorlessly "she called it Regression, I call it brain washing! She was getting information about my work, selling it to the Russians! That's what she does she's a damn spy!" That doesn't make sense. I don't know anything of vital national importance, I mean I've met some celebrities and industry insiders, executives...people with lots of money and lots of influence over popular opinion...holy shit! I am a Manchurian candidate! Easy Buck, don't let the spy stuff excite you. It's probably more mundane than that, poor Henry looks like his brain's been fried.