The Hole Within

CHAPTER 25

My admission to Utah Valley Medical Center's locked unit came on the heels of another suicide attempt - another overdose of pills and booze. Marlene was my roommate. She was a depressed/suicidal woman and she taught me to play gin rummy. We would pass the time by playing cards on her bed talking about nothing. Gloria was in the locked ward too. I never knew what she did to get there. Once again, we were lead in group by Wheezy. There was a middle-aged woman named Ruth who clung tightly to a teddy bear. She carried the damned thing with her everywhere. Gloria and I would poke fun at her for sport. Ruth would cry (she was always crying) and hugged the toy tighter. And we would laugh. It was cruel, I know, but it was something to do. 

One day while Ruth was showering we snuck into her bedroom and got the bear. We tied some pantyhose around its neck and neatly hung it from the closet rod. It was ready for her when she opened her closet to get dressed. We waited patiently, giggling at our misdeed when we heard a loud cry of anguish. We were delighted as Ruth began to wail and cry how someone had murdered her child. This was our way to fight off the ever-pressing boredom that threatened to swallow us.

I always managed to ingratiate myself to the staff. I would make friends with the nurses, sitting outside the nurses' station and talking to them. Despite my craziness, I was a likable person. In turn they treated me with deference.

I took my meals in the eating disorder unit. It was a nice reprieve. I had an NG tube due to my severe weight loss. I would be escorted out of the locked unit and to the little dining room off the nurses' station. Food and the ever-present Ensure. I was mostly quiet, not engaging in their conversation as this was not my group. I passed the time listening to them talk. And there was a lot of time to pass. We were made to stay in the room for an hour after eating to ensure that no one threw up their meals. Nancy was back but this time she was sullen and withdrawn. She was receiving electroconvulsive therapy, which made her a zombie. It pained me to see this girl I had admired so completely defeated. I would try to engage her in conversation and she would just stare blankly at me. This group, as a whole, was different. The unit had begun to use as part of therapy. They all had dark stories to tell of previously forgotten sexual abuse trauma. The mood was no longer lite with talk of their outside lives, as my group had been. All too frequently someone was processing new memories with the nurse that ate with us and the rest of the group. I watched like a spectator while I pushed my food around my plate.

What is this?