“Please, gentlemen, treat him carefully...,” Dad was more worried about me than I was.
“Its okay, Dad, I’ve been through this before,” I muttered as I felt the handcuffs clank shut on my wrists.
“Son, we’re going to be right behind you. I’ll see you when we get there.” Dad was worried, but for some reason I wasn’t.
You’re going home, Kevin.
I think not.
The officers were more than hospitable. I only hit my head twice getting in to the back of the squad car. I was so tall I had to lay across the back seat, using an armrest as a headrest. The trip was quick, thank God. St. Mary's Mental Hospital was just down Highway 50 off Power Inn. I was hustled out of the car and escorted through a receiving door that looked more like an emergency room entrance than a drop off point for a man in custody such as myself. It looked more like a high-class office building than a sanitarium. I could picture passersby marveling in the beautiful architecture of the place. The landscaping surrounding it was perfectly manicured, completing the facade. I knew the truth, though. I had been in places like this before and nice and tidy was not the word to describe the people inside.
You’re one of them.
Temporarily.
The receiving desk attendant’s apathy was all too apparent, “Hey, fellas, why don’t you stick him in there and we’ll take it from here.” I was walked to a large white door with a small rectangular window. The attendant came over and unlocked the door while the policemen relieved me of the handcuffs. I rubbed my wrists while the door was opened. I turned for a minute to ask a question.
“Hey, um, my dad was supposed to meet me here.”
“You’ll see him soon. Just get in the room for now,” replied one of the policemen.
“Why do I have to get in there?”
“Its where all the new arrivals go. Just get in, your dad will be here in a minute,” he said.
“Why isn’t he here already, he was supposed to be right behind you guys.”
“Just get in the room,” he replied. His patience was wearing thin. I turned and looked in to the room. A wooden bed was bolted to the floor. It came complete with a plastic wrapped foam mattress and leather hand and foot restraints.
Come to bed, Kevin.
“You’re not going to put me in those, right?” I was positive there was no need for those restraints. I hadn’t made any trouble. I did everything they asked. Why would they have to put me on lock-down?
“I’m afraid so, sir, every new patient has to spend their first night in the Quiet Room,” answered the attendant.
“Why do I have to be locked up, though?” I was not happy with this situation.
“I don’t make the rules, sir, please just lie down.”
“Hell no I’m not going to lay down, I’m not some raving fucking lunatic. I don’t need to be strapped to a fuckin' bed.” I stepped away from the door.
“Sir, if you don’t get on the bed, we’re going to have to sedate you.”
“Fuck no! I don’t need any of that shit. I know my goddamn rights.”
“Sir, you’re on a 5150 hold. This is just part of the routine.”
“Then change the goddamn routine, because I don’t want to be strapped to that bed.” I had my reasons. Memories of a night in a lock-down bed still plagued me sometimes. Last time I was in a bed like that they strapped me down so tight I lost feeling in one of my hands. For some reason they always lock you up stomach-down, which also really bothered me.
“Sir, I’m going to ask you one more time. Please get on the bed.” I sensed the officers moving behind me.
“I want to see my dad, RIGHT NOW!” I shouted. I felt hands grabbing my arms as the policemen made an attempt at restraining me. I wrestled away from them and took off running down a hallway. I almost ran over someone as I turned a corner.
Get away.
I need out. I need Dad. I have to see Dad.
“Kevin! Get back here NOW!” In my haste I had run over my own father.
“Dad!” I walked back toward him, a little out of breath from my little marathon.
“Kevin, listen to me and listen good, goddammit! If you don’t do every damn thing these people say and be the model patient I know you can be, you will go to jail and never get out. You killed a man, Kevin. I can help you, but you have GOT to cooperate with me. Now, I’m going to walk back there with you and we’re going to take care of this situation. Are you with me, Kev?”
Yes.
“I just don’t want to be locked to the bed, Dad,” I whispered as we walked back to the receiving area.
“Well, Kevin, I’m guessing you can either get locked to the bed, or they’ll tranquilize you from here to high heaven. Hopefully I’ll be able to convince them to at least give you the choice after this little escapade.” He was correct about the tranquilizer, but not about the choice. As we approached the Quiet Room, not only were there four security officers waiting for me next to the two original cops, but the attendant now had a very large syringe in her hand. I shut my eyes as I was pushed in to the Quiet Room. They shoved me on to the bed and ripped my pants to my ankles. I kept my eyes shut and grimaced as the needle pierced my butt. The restraints were on my ankles and wrists in all of 15 seconds and once again, I was a mental patient.
“Its okay, Dad, I’ve been through this before,” I muttered as I felt the handcuffs clank shut on my wrists.
“Son, we’re going to be right behind you. I’ll see you when we get there.” Dad was worried, but for some reason I wasn’t.
You’re going home, Kevin.
I think not.
The officers were more than hospitable. I only hit my head twice getting in to the back of the squad car. I was so tall I had to lay across the back seat, using an armrest as a headrest. The trip was quick, thank God. St. Mary's Mental Hospital was just down Highway 50 off Power Inn. I was hustled out of the car and escorted through a receiving door that looked more like an emergency room entrance than a drop off point for a man in custody such as myself. It looked more like a high-class office building than a sanitarium. I could picture passersby marveling in the beautiful architecture of the place. The landscaping surrounding it was perfectly manicured, completing the facade. I knew the truth, though. I had been in places like this before and nice and tidy was not the word to describe the people inside.
You’re one of them.
Temporarily.
The receiving desk attendant’s apathy was all too apparent, “Hey, fellas, why don’t you stick him in there and we’ll take it from here.” I was walked to a large white door with a small rectangular window. The attendant came over and unlocked the door while the policemen relieved me of the handcuffs. I rubbed my wrists while the door was opened. I turned for a minute to ask a question.
“Hey, um, my dad was supposed to meet me here.”
“You’ll see him soon. Just get in the room for now,” replied one of the policemen.
“Why do I have to get in there?”
“Its where all the new arrivals go. Just get in, your dad will be here in a minute,” he said.
“Why isn’t he here already, he was supposed to be right behind you guys.”
“Just get in the room,” he replied. His patience was wearing thin. I turned and looked in to the room. A wooden bed was bolted to the floor. It came complete with a plastic wrapped foam mattress and leather hand and foot restraints.
Come to bed, Kevin.
“You’re not going to put me in those, right?” I was positive there was no need for those restraints. I hadn’t made any trouble. I did everything they asked. Why would they have to put me on lock-down?
“I’m afraid so, sir, every new patient has to spend their first night in the Quiet Room,” answered the attendant.
“Why do I have to be locked up, though?” I was not happy with this situation.
“I don’t make the rules, sir, please just lie down.”
“Hell no I’m not going to lay down, I’m not some raving fucking lunatic. I don’t need to be strapped to a fuckin' bed.” I stepped away from the door.
“Sir, if you don’t get on the bed, we’re going to have to sedate you.”
“Fuck no! I don’t need any of that shit. I know my goddamn rights.”
“Sir, you’re on a 5150 hold. This is just part of the routine.”
“Then change the goddamn routine, because I don’t want to be strapped to that bed.” I had my reasons. Memories of a night in a lock-down bed still plagued me sometimes. Last time I was in a bed like that they strapped me down so tight I lost feeling in one of my hands. For some reason they always lock you up stomach-down, which also really bothered me.
“Sir, I’m going to ask you one more time. Please get on the bed.” I sensed the officers moving behind me.
“I want to see my dad, RIGHT NOW!” I shouted. I felt hands grabbing my arms as the policemen made an attempt at restraining me. I wrestled away from them and took off running down a hallway. I almost ran over someone as I turned a corner.
Get away.
I need out. I need Dad. I have to see Dad.
“Kevin! Get back here NOW!” In my haste I had run over my own father.
“Dad!” I walked back toward him, a little out of breath from my little marathon.
“Kevin, listen to me and listen good, goddammit! If you don’t do every damn thing these people say and be the model patient I know you can be, you will go to jail and never get out. You killed a man, Kevin. I can help you, but you have GOT to cooperate with me. Now, I’m going to walk back there with you and we’re going to take care of this situation. Are you with me, Kev?”
Yes.
“I just don’t want to be locked to the bed, Dad,” I whispered as we walked back to the receiving area.
“Well, Kevin, I’m guessing you can either get locked to the bed, or they’ll tranquilize you from here to high heaven. Hopefully I’ll be able to convince them to at least give you the choice after this little escapade.” He was correct about the tranquilizer, but not about the choice. As we approached the Quiet Room, not only were there four security officers waiting for me next to the two original cops, but the attendant now had a very large syringe in her hand. I shut my eyes as I was pushed in to the Quiet Room. They shoved me on to the bed and ripped my pants to my ankles. I kept my eyes shut and grimaced as the needle pierced my butt. The restraints were on my ankles and wrists in all of 15 seconds and once again, I was a mental patient.