The Hole Within

CHAPTER 27

Wheezy had become a therapist. Her specialty was multiple personality disorder. She was cool and detached, not at all like Diane. We worked on integration of personalities, basically, trying to merge them back into my psyche. I was shocked when she started one session with veiled hostility. She stated that the we would not be working on my personalities anymore. She did not believe I had multiple personality disorder. She claimed that I had been observed sitting outside of her door when Gloria had her sessions with Louise. That I had obviously been listening and learning how to act as if I had multiple personality disorder. I had done no such thing of course. When would I have had the chance to sit outside the door when her office was in the eating disorder unit and I was behind locked doors? She would not be convinced. I suspected that Kim was behind the accusation but I could not prove it. He disliked me and thought I manipulated the staff. While this was true to some degree, I had never done the things I was accused of.

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Matt was admitted for being suicidal. He was a nice-looking soft-spoken man. We found our ideations in common and became friends. Matt and I would play "pool" in the day room. Instead of sticks, we would grip a ball in our hand and slam the other balls back and forth across the pool table. The object was to smash our balls into each other's fingers. It was a kind of air hockey without the handle. We would laugh and cry out in pain as we hit the balls with all our strength. Our swollen fingers finding it hard to hold on to our respective pool ball. It was a vicious game and we played it with glee. I often had blood bubbles underneath my smashed nails and dark blue bruises on the backs of my fingers. He was flirtatious but I always made light of his comments and attention. He was also a cocaine addict. He had snorted all his money, his house, his cars and lost his family.

One day, I noticed Marlene could barely get out of bed. She seemed lethargic. The nurse would come in and give her pills and she would take them and go back to sleep. This went on for the rest of the afternoon. The nurse waking her, giving her pills, and her going back to sleep. It seems the nurse came in every two hours. Soon the nurse panicked as Marlene slipped into a coma. They rushed her down to the emergency room and discovered that she had been overdosed on anti-depressants. The nurse had been giving her the incorrect medication. She had almost succeeded where suicidal Marlene had failed.

Finally, I was released. I had no job to go back to. Armed with my hospital records and emergency room admissions I applied for Social Security Disability. The first thing I did on discharge was go buy booze. I would take pills and drink, feeling relief wash through me. I always thought they should allow a drinking room in the hospital. We had a smoking room, which would cloud up quickly as we smoked. If they allowed drinking in the hospital most of us would have our anxiety under control by self-medicating.