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Scenes from the Psych Ward



I was watching the 2000 film, Girl, Interrupted, based on the memoir of Susanna Kaysen, who struggled with suicidal thoughts and stayed at McLean hospital in the 1960s. The film was heavy, but I was amused by how the scenes in the psych ward reminded me of my own in-patient experiences. On the subway, I made a list of little details that I would want to include in my own memoir if I ever wrote one:

  • Sinks had buttons instead of handles

  • Hooks on the wall were like light switches that would flick downwards when they bore too much weight

  • Doorknobs were slanted downwards

  • Mental health specialists do “checks” every 15 minutes to make sure that everyone was safe. When you’re taking a shower, this means you have to show your hands and face. At night, they use flashlights. One time, I put a massive stuffed blueberry in front of my bed, and the nurse asked me to move it because it prevented them from seeing me during checks.

  • Patients started at level 1 but would gain privileges like going on group walks led by staff, signing out shoes with laces to visit the recreation room or gym, and even walking around outside with a visitor.

  • Our unit had a “coloring squad,” a group of friendly patients who spent the day decorating coloring sheets in the lunch room.

  • We played the piano at the end of one of the wings, and the patients had a karaoke night.

  • The group room had one super old and grainy TV that all the patients shared.

  • There were so many puzzles and books. The puzzles helped me when I was extremely overwhelmed because all I had to focus on was placing the next piece.

  • Patients lined up in the morning to get their blood pressure, and there was a med window where nurses would hand patients medication in small paper cups (like the sample cups at Costco) and watch them take it.

  • The patients went through a boatload of Gatorade because many had physical GI symptoms as a result of their depression.

  • When a patient leaves, the nurses would always say, “we’d rather see you than hear about you,” meaning that while they hoped we would never have to go through the ordeal of staying at an in-patient unit again, there was nothing wrong with reaching out for help again.

Having seen these things sometimes makes me feel alien. Sometimes, I’m talking to my friends and I think, “what if they knew that I’ve had to stay for 24 days at a psych hospital?” I’m still working on accepting that my life took a drastic turn over the last two years, but films like Girl, Interrupted remind me that many people who have suffered like me have gone on to live meaningful lives. I’ve experienced the lowest of lows. When I was at the hospital, I was in so much pain that I didn’t want to be alive. The fact that I’m still breathing is a sign that maybe I am stronger than I think.

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