An Unexpected Life

The sky was blue, so blue and clear it made her eyes hurt. It didn’t seem right, somehow, that anything should appear so vibrant. Everything else, however, seemed bleached of its color, as though all cosmic energy had drained it away into the sky. Emily pressed her forehead against the cold glass of the car window. The bare trees whipped by. their gray branches reached beseechingly toward heaven and they reminded her of the weeping women in the medieval religious paintings that hung on the walls of St. Agatha’s. They knelt at the foot of the cross with their arms outstretched, silently begging God……begging God……for what? Forgiveness? Comfort? Help? Maybe all three. They were her trinity and she prayed silently to be rescued. My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?
Funny. She hadn’t thought about St. Agatha’s or her catholic upbringing in years. John was an uninvolved Unitarian and they had agreed to raise the girls in that faith. It had seemed like a breath of fresh air to Emily, having come from a suffocating environment full of breast beating and finger pointing.
Emily remembered her first day of parochial school. She had no idea what to expect being an only child. She sat at her desk, her name printed neatly on a piece of oak tag taped to the side, wearing her new plaid blue jumper with a crisply starched white blouse. The collar made her neck itch on the unusually warm September day. The other children clamored into the room, talking and laughing but Emily knew no one because everyone in her neighborhood went to the local public school and this was first grade, not kindergarten. Emily’s mother felt kindergarten was a waste of time.
Why should we pay tuition for a child to learn how to play. She can do that for free at home. She was a no nonsense woman with severe features that were seldom softened with a smile. She, too, had been raised in a staunch catholic home but she, unlike Emily, embraced it and was extremely devout and had great expectations for her daughter.
So, since the other children had spent the previous year together, Emily was even more of an outsider. The other little girls pointed at her and whispered in each others ears making Emily’s face burn. She tried to pretend not to notice. Opening her desk, she looked at her perfectly sharpened pencils in the bright red pencil box her father had surprised her with the night before. She looked up with relief at the teacher as she glided into the room, her habit swirling around her legs making it seem as though her feet didn’t touch the ground. Her entrance momentarily distracted the others. She clapped her hands and motioned for everyone to sit in their seats and turned to print her name on the blackboard behind her.
“My name is Sister Mary Joseph,” she stated when she finished, “and you are going to learn many things this year.” She flashed a sudden smile leaving Emily momentarily stunned. She didn’t know what she expected but that wasn’t it. She sobered instantly making Emily wonder if she had imagined it. And she had wondered ever since because it was the last time she saw it.
For the rest of the first grade and pretty much every year after that, Emily was told what to learn and what to think both at school and at home. All of the rigid moral lessons taught at school were reinforced by her mother and Emily spent all of her time trying to keep everyone happy, which wasn’t easy. Her mother was such a perfectionist.
John turned the car into McLean Hospital's driveway that wound its way through the sun dappled well kept grounds. They drove on for what seemed like forever until the old red brick buildings came into view. The administration building was the largest and where John drew to a stop and shut down the engine. The silence was deafening. Emily just sat there and stared up at the massive imposing structure. The door squealed as John got out of the car. He came around to the passenger’s side and opened the door and waited silently for Emily to get out. She was frozen. She just sat there, fear clutching her heart, fear colder than the crisp February air outside.
“Well?” John asked, impatience apparent in his tone.
She looked up at him beseechingly. “Please don’t make me do this,” she begged.
“We have no choice. Now get out.” We have no choice. We. Maybe we had no choice but he sure did. He didn’t have to stay in that awful place. He had the choice to go home. Emily pulled herself up taking a small step forward and stumbled against John. He instinctively grabbed her by the elbow to keep her from falling and pulled away just as quickly once she had gained her balance as though he had been burned. Emily just looked at him and he turned away, shame written on his reddening face. He grabbed Emily’s suitcase out of the back seat and walked ahead leaving Emily to trail behind. She slowly mounted the worn granite steps one at a time as though walking to her execution. John stood at the top holding the heavy wooden door. It had recently been painted a glossy forest green that still looked wet and had that fresh paint smell. It made her wonder if the powers that be really thought they were fooling anyone about what went on behind that newly painted door. Emily reluctantly entered. The lobby was lush with a thick pile carpet that swallowed up all the sounds. There were leather winged back chairs scattered about along with coffee and end tables. There were softly lit lamps on the end tables giving the room a gentle feeling. Emily sat on the edge of one of the chairs not knowing what else to do with herself. The woman at the desk and John talked quietly making Emily very self conscience since she know they were talking about her.
“Your husband needs to sign some forms, you know, for the insurance. Why don’t you read these,” she said handing her a bunch of papers. “They are just information about the rules and expectations while you're here.” The woman smiled kindly. Emily nodded again taking the papers. She began reading over the literature. It was all about the schedule, expectations and rules of Cedar House. And, boy, were there rules. Rules about getting up in the morning, eating, working, therapy, all the way through to bedtime. Emily looked up and the woman, who had been watching her, gave her a smile. Emily made the corners of her mouth go up slightly and looked back at the forms on her lap.
John finished signing the necessary paperwork and was given directions to Cedar House where Emily would be living thoughout her stay. John looked at her then started towards the door expecting Emily to follow. They walked back down the stairs and got into the car and pulled away from the building. They wound their way deeper into the grounds until they got to the building labelled Cedar House. Once again they got out of the car and walked up the stairs but when John tried to get inside the door was locked. He turned and looked at Emily as though she had locked it. Emily silently pointed to a doorbell beside the door. He pushed the button and there was a buzz and John pushed the door open and stepped inside holding the door for her as she entered obediently.
The common area, as she was to learn it was called, was stark and anticeptic looking, the walls painted that typical institutional green. The floor was a checkerboard of brown and white, the tiles polished to a glossy reflective sheen, grooves showing from the nightly visits by the industrial polisher pushed by generations of indiscriminate janitors. There were two couches and a chair circa 1973, foam bulging through holes in the burnt orange vinyl that covered them. There were two lamps, their shades a yellowish brown, giving the entire area a jaundiced hue. The nurses station lay behind thick glass, a bank teller metal speaker in the center. Sitting at the desk was a woman in her fifties, her hair a brash shade of Out Of The Bottle red that clashed with her lipstick.
“And you are……” she looked questioningly over the top of her glasses, her voice tinny through the speaker.
"This is Emily McPherson," John answered briskly.
The nurse stared at him until he started to squirm under her scrutiny. Finally she said, "She doesn't know her name?"
John reddened with embarrassment. "Of course she does," he snapped.
She got up from her desk, opened the door and came out of the enclosed station and regarded Emily expectantly, waiting. "Emily McPherson," Emily murmured slightly bewildered by the nurse’s behavior. She expected to be treated like a sick child or perhaps a criminal and her kind respectful attitude caught her off guard. John just stood there angry at being made to look foolish. The nurse turned to him.
“Thank you, Mr. McPherson. Well take things from here. Visiting hours are evenings from 7 to 930. Weekends are 2 to 10. When you come back, you may want to bring your wife some ones and change for the candy and soda machines. Have a safe trip home.” She turned back to Emily, dismissing John. “Come on, Emily. I’ll show you to your room.” She picked up Emily’s bag and started down the hall and Emily fell into step behind her. Once, she turned to look back and saw John standing there, his arms hanging limply at his sides, looking thoroughly lost as though he didn’t know what to do next. Emily continued moving forward.
They traveled past three rooms and entered the fourth on the right. The institutional color scheme continued. There were two beds, each with a graying bedspread. To the right of both were cheap scratched up nightstands with small reading lamps on top. There were matching, and equally dilapidated, bureaus to complete the furnishings. Nurse Mueller, or Jane as she insisted on being addressed, put Emily’s bag on the end of the bed. She unzipped it and began going through Emily’s things.
“I’m sorry about this invasion of your privacy but I have to go through your things to make sure there are no prohibited items.” She pulled out a belt and put it aside then she removed the tie of her bathrobe and put it with the belt. Next, she opened the toiletry bag poking through it with her index finger. She fished out a nail file, nail clippers and a razor. “It probably seems silly but these are considered sharps and must be confiscated.” Lastly, she removed a pair of sneakers from the bottom of the satchel and started to remove the laces. “Anything that can be tied around the neck .” You may want to call home and have your husband bring you some slip on shoes.” Jane kindly touched Emily’s arm. “I know you are feeling a bit violated right now and if this is overkill I’m sorry but, believe it or not, some of our clients need these things taken away. Since we are strangers at this point, everyone must be treated the same. I hope we wont be strangers for long.” She gestured to the other bed. “You have a roommate. Her name is Sharon Gleason. She’s in her therapy session right now but you’ll meet her soon. Why don’t you put your things away and get settled in. A tray will be sent from the cafeteria for you for dinner. Dining hall privileges are earned with good behavior. Im sure it wont be long before you will be joining the others.” Jane turned at the doorway. “Try not to worry, Emily. Everything will be fine.” And with a brief smile, she was gone.
Emily sat down heavily on the bed. Her throat constricted and her eyes filled with tears. Everything will be fine. Get settled in. What ridiculous and hollow words they were. I may as well make the best of it, Emily thought, just as she had been doing all of her life, making the best of her mother’s cold overbearing attitude, making the best of John’s patronizing demeanor and her eldest daughter’s contempt. She sighed and started putting her clothes into the bureau drawers and her personal items in the nightstand. When she had finished, she lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. How did I get here, she wondered.
A heavy set girl of about eighteen appeared in the doorway. Her long blond hair was stringy and dull. She stared at Emily unashamedly with pale blue eyes that were deep set and too close together. One turned out so that Emily had to assume she was looking at her rather than the nightstand. Her skin was blotchy and peppered with blemishes. Emily squirmed under her intense gaze. She rose from the bed, extending her hand toward the girl.
“Hi, I’m Emily.”
“Hello,” she answered softly shaking Emily’s fingers. Her hand was cold and clammy. She moved past her to her bed, laid down and reached for a book on the nightstand. She got a glimpse of the title before Sharon’s nail bitten fingers hid it from view. This Side of Paradise.
“F. Scott Fitzgerald. Thats ambitious reading,” Emily observed. Sharon glanced at the cover as though reminding herself of what she was reading.
“They say I have to try and keep up with my schoolwork. I hate to read,” and with that she turned her attention to the book, summarily dismissing Emily. She went back to her bed and resumed staring at the ceiling.
She must have dozed off because the next thing she knew Jane was gently shaking her. Sharon was gone. Your dinner is in the kitchen. Why don’t you come eat and then I’ll show you around to the areas you are allowed to go.”
Emily followed the nurse out into the hall back to the common area. Jane entered a room next to the nurses station and gestured to the table where a food tray sat. It contained a sandwich, a bag of chips, a carton of milk and a small bowl of chocolate pudding. Suddenly she realized she was hungry. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and then all she could choke down was a half piece of toast and some coffee.
“I hope you like turkey. I figured that was the most harmless thing I could choose without knowing your preferences. Tomorrow you can fill out a menu. Bon appetite. Ill be back later to give you the nickel tour.”
Emily sat down at the table. After a bite of her sandwich as she opened the milk carton, she glanced around the room. There was a large stainless steel sink flanked on either side with dish washing liquid and clean towels. A sign above read, ‘clean up and leave everything as you found it. Your mother doesn’t work here.’ Emily smiled. Cabinets ran the length of the wall, one half opened showing dishes and glasses. Behind her were a row of vending machines containing junk food, soda and cigarettes. Emily wondered how long it took to get matches. She had a feeling it was a long time.
Jane returned just as she finished her sandwich. “Ready?” With a final sip of milk, she rose and emptied her tray into the large barrel lined with a trash bag. They entered the next room. “This is our library as pitiful as it is. Maybe you can find something to occupy your time. Two bookcases were each about half full with worn paperbacks. Emily reflected on the fact that she was thrilled feeling as though she had been escorted into a room lined with first editions to be read while curling up in leather winged back chairs. This room was lit by harsh fluorescents and scattered with the same vinyl chairs as were in the common area. Perspective was everything. Jane smiled. “I see you’re pleased. Im glad. I just hope you can find something worth reading. Pretend you’re at the beach with a trashy novel you’ve saved for just such an occasion.” Emily smiled back. “C’mon and Ill show you the rest and you can come back.”
As they went down the hall, Jane gestured to the other three rooms before a set of locked double doors. “This is the restroom. There are community showers and wash stations. This next room is a conference room. This is where family members meet with the client and their doctor to discuss treatment both for the client and the family, if necessary. This last room is the quiet room. This is where clients go to……cool off. “ Emily peeked through the small window at the padded walls and floor. She was stunned. She thought padded rooms only existed in the movies. She turned toward Jane, horrified. “It’s not as bad as it seems. Its padded so the client doesn’t hurt themselves. Sometimes they can get out of control and they need a safe environment to calm down. Well, thats it. If you want to go back and choose a book, go ahead. Clean up and get ready for bed. Lights are out by ten. Oh, I almost forgot. Meds are dispensed at eight so come out to the nurses’ station.” Emily looked perplexed. “Your doctor has prescribed an antidepressant and wants it started tonight. I’m sure he’ll discuss it with you when you meet him tomorrow.”
After Jane had gone, Emily slowly returned to the library feeling overwhelmed. She chose one of those trashy novels Jane had mentioned since that was really all there was and headed back to her room.
Medication. No one had mentioned this and her life being dictated by some unknown doctor made her feel even more out of control. I don't need medication, she thought. Everyone is making such a big deal about her taking too many pills. She had just wanted to go to sleep not die!
She laid on her bed and tried to read but none of the words made any sense to her and her mind kept drifting to why she was here and what her first appointment with her doctor would be like. She wasn't looking forward to it if the doctor she had seen when she first woke at the hospital was any indication of what to expect.
Emily put the book down and got up. I may as well get ready for bed. She took a tee shirt and a pair of yoga pants out of the bureau where she had stored her clothes. With toothpaste, toothbrush and towel in hand, she went down to the bathroom to get changed. She brushed her teeth and washed her face. She stood at the sink and stared at the woman in the mirror. Her blue eyes were huge in her drawn face, her cheeks and lips pale as death. Emily hurriedly dried her face and turned away not wanting to look at the pathetic creature that stared back. She wadded her clothes from the day into a ball, grabbed her toiletries and went back to her room.
She heard voices as the crowd from the ward returned from dinner. Sharon entered going directly to her side of the room without even a glance at Emily. She started stripping her clothes off and, when completely naked, bent over the middle drawer of her dresser looking for her night wear. Her buttocks was pale as milk with the crack looking like a lopsided smile and Emily turned away, embarrassed. She couldn't imagine doing something like that even with her own husband. It made her feel too vulnerable. She quickly left the room before Sharon could see how uncomfortable she was.
Distracted and hurrying, she bumped into someone coming down the hall. "I'm so sorry," Emily said as she looked up and met the greenest eyes she had ever seen. A fringe of dark thick lashes gently surrounded them like tall grass encircling a deep green pool. Skin like satin with a soft blush on the cheekbones enhanced those eyes that crinkled as the full pink lips curled up into a smile. She was the most beautiful woman Emily had ever seen.
"That's OK. You're the new one, huh? I'm Felicia," she stuck out her hand and Emily took it tentatively. "Emily," she answered shyly.
"You don't have to look so nervous. I don't bite.....much." Emily stared at her trying to figure out if she had understood her correctly and Felicia laughed. "Sorry. Just kidding."
Emily smiled.
"Oh good. You do have a sense of humor," Felicia linked her arm through Emily's and led her to the common room where she pulled her down to sit next to her on one of the sofas. "So, have you met anyone yet?"
"Just the nurse and my roommate," Emily replied.
Felicia rolled her eyes. "Ugh! Sharon! She gives crazy people a bad name. If there is anyone who needs to be in here it's her. Speaking of which, why are you here?"
Emily was taken aback by Felicia's unabashed demeanor. She would never ask such a personal question. Then again, what else would you talk about in here? "I couldn't sleep and I guess I took too many sleeping pills. I wasn't trying to kill myself but that's what they thought so I ended up in here."
Felicia smiled slyly. "The ole 'I didn't mean to take that many' defense. Well, if you want to get out of here you'd better admit you did it on purpose. That will make them think you've seen the error of your ways. Acceptance and all that."
Emily thought about that for a minute. It made sense. "What are you here for?" she asked Felicia feeling brazen.
"Oh. I tried to kill my neighbor. You see, I'm bipolar and I stopped taking my meds and I got manic and thought my neighbor was going to kill me so I tried to kill him first. Everyone thought that was a little crazy and they gave me the choice of jail or here. This place was familiar since I've been here before and they could get me back on the drugs and send me home."
Emily just stared at her. How could she be so matter of fact about such a thing. "If you knew what could happen if you stopped your medicine, why would you?"
Felicia leaned back against the cushions. "After a while, you just get sick of taking them. They make you feel so flat like nothing touches you. I hate that. I'm an artist and I do my best work when I'm manic. When I'm medicated I feel closed off from my soul. How can you create art with no soul?"
Emily didn't have an answer since she had never done a creative thing in her life. She just shrugged.
"Anyway, that's why I'm here." Felicia jumped up. "Well, I'll see you around," she said as she turned and headed back down the hall from where they had come from.
Emily didn't quite know what to make of her. She was very friendly but more forward than Emily was used to but maybe that was good. It must be nice to express yourself without worrying what others would say.
"Time for medication," one of the nurses announced through a loud speaker. People began to appear from all directions and gather in a line in front of the nurses station. The nurse stood with a table behind her covered in little cups labeled with patients names. She would ask the patient's name, check their bracelet and give them their pills with a small cup of water. The patient had to stand right there and take their pills and show their empty mouth.
Well, that's demeaning, Emily thought, to be treated like a child. She sat and watched as one by one, all the patients took their medication. Suddenly there was only one little cup left.
"Emily McPherson," the nurse called out into the crowded room. "You need to come forward right now and take your medicine."
Emily bristled at the condescending tone but she did as she was told. She felt foolish opening her mouth and moving her tongue around to show that she had swallowed it. Afterwards, she went straight to her room.
Sharon was in bed under the covers reading. She didn't look up as Emily entered. At least I don't have to make small talk, she thought. She slipped between the sheets and settled in with a sigh. She hadn't realized how tired she was. She closed her eyes and thought about the day. It seemed a lot had happened and it felt that the day had been twice as long as it really was.
"Lights out," a voice called from the speaker outside her room. The hall lights went out as Sharon leaned over and snapped off her lamp. Emily did the same. The emergency and exit signs glowed in the hallway casting a dim glow across her bed. She felt exposed with the door open but that was another of their rules. Emily closed her eyes and made her body relax. She felt herself drifting away and welcomed sleep
The next morning, when Emily woke, she looked around at her foreign surroundings trying to figure out where she was. Suddenly it all came back to her and despair settled around her. I'm not going to feel sorry for myself, she thought with resolve. I'm going to do everything I can to get out of here and get back to my life.
That thought made her pause. Did she want to get back to her life? Isn't her life what had put her here? Maybe I'll just concentrate on getting out of here and not think beyond that, she thought.
She got out of bed and gathered her stuff and went to the bathroom to get ready for the day. She cleaned up, dressed, put on a little makeup. Going through the motions of her daily routine made her feel a little calmer and she went back to her room with less trepidation.
When she went into her room, Sharon was standing there, naked once again, picking lint out of her navel. Doesn't she ever wear clothes, Emily thought impatiently. She dropped her stuff on the bed and left.
A group of patients was milling about in the common area as more people came and joined them. As the crowd grew an announcement was made that it was time to go to breakfast. The group headed down the hall leaving Emily standing alone looking lost. She saw Jane through the glass who gave a little wave and held up her index finger indicating for her to wait. A few minutes later she came out. “I have a tray in here for your breakfast,” pointing to the kitchen area. Emily followed her in to find another tray waiting for her. This time it held coffee, juice and an egg, ham and cheese sandwich. Next to it was a sheet of paper. “If you fill out your preferences you won’t be at my mercy for your food choices,” Jane smiled.
Emily smiled in return. “Thank you. This is fine.”
“After your breakfast, you’ll be meeting with your doctor so start thinking about questions you’d like to ask. People always forget at the first meeting but if you think about it ahead of time maybe some will stick. I’ll let you know when it’s time.”
“OK.”
At ten o'clock, Emily went to one of the conference rooms that were off the common area. She entered unenthusiastically and sat down at the table. She was dreading meeting with the doctor, the judgements and clinical assessment of her situation. An orderly came in with a manila folder. He handed it to Emily with a pen and told her to fill out the questionnaire while she waited.
The first page was easily straight forward. Name, address, date of birth, etc. She filled out her statistics and turned to page two. Why are you hear? Beats me, Emily thought. What if I wrote that? What would the doctor think? Or maybe she should write, because my husband thinks I'm crazy or I can't count. Instead, she wrote what she thought she was supposed to remembering Felicia's advice on saying what they want to hear so she could get out of here.
The following questions were a little more complicated. Did she have trouble sleeping? Isn't that how she got here? Had she lost interest in things that used to be important to her? She was still mulling these over when the door opened and a middle aged man entered. He was good looking with gray hair, deep set blue eyes and a slightly ruddy complexion. He was wearing a red polo shirt and jeans and loafers with no socks. He looked like he had just stepped off a boat not like a psychiatrist at an inpatient facility. Emily didn't quite know what to think of him and watched him warily as he sat down across from her, leaning back and crossing his legs.
"Hello, Mrs. McPherson. I'm Dr. Randall and I've been asked to care for you while you're here. Is that OK with you?"
"I guess so," Emily replied. What difference did it make? One was as good as another she supposed.
"So, Mrs. McPherson, what do you think of all this?" he asked waving his arm to encompass the room. Emily just looked at him. What did he expect her to say?
"I guess that's probably a silly question. I guess what I really want to know is do you know why you're here and what do you think we need to do to get you home?"
"I know that I had to come here because I took too many sleeping pills and everyone thinks I wanted to kill myself."
The doctor stared at her for a moment. "Did you?"
"No!"
"Then why do you suppose you took so many?"
"Because I still couldn't sleep and I really didn't pay attention to how many I took. Why is that so difficult for everyone to believe?"
"Have you been taking them regularly?"
"Yes, I haven't been sleeping well."
"Why do you suppose that is?"
Emily sighed. "I don't know. It's been going on for a while." She paused. "I can't even remember when it started," she realized.
"Would you like to figure that out? That may lead to why and I think that would be very helpful to you."
Emily looked at him, tears welling in her eyes. "OK," she whispered.
Dr. Randall pushed the tissue box on the table in her direction. "Good. I'll check my schedule and figure out the best time to meet with you and we'll meet everyday for the next week and go from there, OK?" Emily nodded. "I'll let the nurse know the time and I'll meet you here tomorrow. I've prescribed an antidepressant that I would like you to start taking if you're willing?" Emily nodded. “There is also different kinds of activities such as art therapy and music therapy. Ask the nurse to give you the choice list and we’ll discuss it tomorrow. It’s a nice way to pass the time and give you the opportunity to think without even realizing your doing it. Less pressure.” He stood up and held his hand and Emily took it. "It was nice to meet you and I look forward to getting to know you better." He smiled and left the room.
Emily sat back down. She didn't know what to expect but he wasn't it. He was warm and caring and most surprising, he was respectful. She guessed she thought he would be condescending like the doctor at the hospital where she was first admitted. Condescending like John.