Chapter 13

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

Nellie left the day of my hearing with the medical board of the hospital. She packed her things up; the nurses were in a rush to get her out. A police officer came into the room with a man who seemed to be collegial with Nellie. It struck me from the way they were treating Nellie that the hospital may have done something wrong in her case. Even the wicked red headed nurse was helping Nellie collect her belongings when, not just a day before, she had smacked Nellie in the face for not moving fast enough. As she gathered up her things, Nellie stopped and turned to the redhead. I watched her defiant stare, her raised eyebrows as she took on an expression that promised justice. That was the look Nellie had kept to herself during her time in the ward; it was what she'd taught me to suppress. Seeing Nellie stand up to them gave me hope that maybe one day I too could reveal the truth without being accused of insanity.

The nurse backed away and fumbled while helping Nellie gather her things. Nellie's eyes kept finding mine. I had just woken up and the stout nurse was trying to herd us all out of the room. This time, because the men were with Nellie, they were sickly sweet about it. That made it easy for me to take my time.

Nellie came over to me just before she left. She gave me a hug and handed me a small piece of paper. "Here is my information. Call me when you can. Or write to me. If you have visitors, give them this information I'm going to try to help you. Do what I've taught you, all right?"

The paper said:

Nellie Brown, Chicago Tribune 435 North Michigan Avenue in Chicago, Illinois

With that Nellie was escorted out. Just as the three of them left, the stout nurse smacked me hard on the back. "Give me that paper, what are you conspiring to do! Missy you aren't going anywhere for a long time."

I kept a neutral expression as she tore the paper and threw it in a dirty bedpan. She thrust the soiled container into another patient's hands and sneered, "Go empty this waste."

Her words of torment didn't even penetrate me. The redhead threw a dress on my bed, "Get yourself ready there Missy. You've got your big hearing today." She turned to the stout one and laughed. "What'll you think it'll be Suzanne."

A big grin grew on Suzanne's face. Her yellow teeth were horrible to look at, "I don't know she's awfully pretty. Maybe Dr. Norse will take a liking to her. Maybe have pity on her."

"Naa, I'd wager my mother's soul-- it'll be shock therapy."

The stout one was pulling sheets and tossing them on the floor for the patient custodians to carry down to the laundry. She nodded her head reflexively. "That's true. That's about right."

Terror rose inside of me. It was of the kind that I'd have never been able to contain before. I had been so prone to screaming and crying in the past. I certainly would have broken down just hearing them say the words and knowing all along what the treatments behind those doors were even though Eileen would never tell me. I had experience watching women go into the rooms screaming and then coming out unconscious or worse re-entering the ward, looking around numbly with their heads wrapped in bandages, nothing at all alive in their eyes. I had seen the lady in the bed next to mine shake all night long from freezing baths or sheets lined with ice; left there all day, alone and cold . I wanted to scream as loudly as I could. I felt it rising.

In my short time there I'd seen many women come back from shock treatments. Returning from the treatment rooms in comas; afterwards lying in bed with open eyes. They'd remain like that for a couple of days until life returned to them. That's what Nellie was warning me against. I knew it was worse for the women who had surgery. After they recovered were really like little children, pleasant and calm but really no mind of their own. These fears spun around me, but they weren't like childhood myths –monsters and ghosts—they were possible, even probable, fates.

The little stout woman's teeth made me sick. Yellowed with a sticky white film around the gums. As she laughed I grew nauseated. My feelings escalated as the red headed nurse pushed the other poor women; I felt as if I couldn't contain it any more I felt my arms tingle with desire to strike them both. To strike them until they were dead.

"What's that dearie?" The stout one asked.

I must have said something. I was afraid of my rage; it had blinded me. But what had I said? I took a deep breath. "Thank you," I whispered.

"You got nothing to thank me for--Get ready there dearie, don't keep us in suspense. We want to know what they have in mind for you. It's better than my soap operas." I pulled on my slip and then my floral dress. After only one wash it was bleached and faded. I could see how in no time, it would be threadbare. I fixed my hair as they were herding the rest of the women into a line in the hallway.

"Keep her here," the redhead, Suzanne, said to the stout one. She was referring to the old woman who she was holding by the shoulders.

The woman was stamping her feet and screaming "No!" She was the same one with the contorted face out of a fairy tale, her mouth always in the shape of a scream. She was very upset. Suzanne held the woman's shoulders, while I walked out to the hallway and stood in the line with the other patients from my room. A moment later, the redheaded nurse returned with two male orderlies. The orderlies were carrying metal buckets of ice.

I'd wished Nellie were there so I could ask her what they were going to do to the naked old woman. I realized I could see into the room well enough to make out what they were doing. They pulled down the top sheet and poured the ice over the bottom sheet. I looked to the woman next to me for validation, but she was picking her ear and rocking back and forth. Her eyes were set on nothing. I looked back into he room and they had covered the bed of ice with the top sheet, and then tied knots in the sides so the ice was contained between the two sheets. Then the two orderlies picked the lady up, she looked as though she weighted nothing. They placed her in the bed and the redhead, Suzanne, and stout little restrained the woman's arms to the bedrail with towels they'd rolled up and tied. The lady was screaming.

"That'll teach her to shut her mouth when she's told." The redhead said, then she motioned for them all to leave the room.

She walked into the hall and closed the door to the women's cries of agony.

The redhead looked at me, "You should mind your own business dearie. Wipe that look off your pretty face."

That scene alone would have sent me into tears just a week ago. Despite maintaining my composure, the woman's contorted face and the terror in her eyes, stayed with me all day. It would enter my thoughts and cause a searing pain into my stomach.

During the long walk to the room where the hearing was to be held, I repeated Nellie's words over and over in my head. No matter what they said to me, I was to be gracious and pretend to be fine. I could not --would not-- scream and cry. I had practiced with Nellie the night before. She had played the role of the doctor and handed out the worst possible decisions. She presented the worst possible scenarios. I practiced maintaining a calm demeanor, regardless of what they were promising to do to me. It was all in whispers into the dark room, but still our rehearsal had terrified me.

"Eve, we think you'll need to be confined in a more therapeutic ward"

"Eve, we're going to try electric shock treatment several times a week. We'll monitor you for a few months. If not, there are surgical options."

We practiced each one of the many scenarios. We also went over questions the doctors may ask. We did it until I could respond to them without as much as a quiver in my voice. The most difficult role plays were the ones where she pretended to be a doctor asking about Charlie and my capacity to mother him.

"Mrs. Miller, did you find it difficult to care for your little son Charlie?"

"How did your moods and behavior affect your son? How will you behave differently were you to be rehabilitated?"

It had been well into the night before we'd finished practicing. After I'd heard Nellie's faint snore and I knew I was the only one awake in the room, I let the silent tears fall on to my pillow. I cried without making a sound for a short time. I heard the clacking on the tile up and down the hallway. In the midst of that rhythm, the sound of nurses walking while I slept, I stopped myself. I decided that I wouldn't cry at all, any more until I was free. For even allowing myself to in the deepest moment of privacy, I was weakening my resolve. I had to grow completely numb.

I sat alone across from a table of three men and two women. Dr. Maynard was there, still smoking, squinting periodically as he wrote. Dr. Norse was also there, looking dapper and with a fixed, charming smile. There was another man I would come to know about later. He was a psychologist who performed testing on the patients; his job was to determine if the treatments and rehabilitation were improving our mental states. A female nurse was simply there to take notes and another woman, Mrs. Lange, was a social worker.

The proceedings were very short. They had conducted their observations. They reported that although I had definitely demonstrated periods of impressive control over my emptions, it was their unanimous impression that I had exhibited a chronic pattern of unpredictable melancholia and had a history of lax moral behavior. In it was their opinion that these sort of patterns, particularly after going on for years and exacerbated by grief of losing my husband and melancholia following childbirth, would –without a doubt-- grow worse if left untreated. "The outcome in these cases is very poor," Dr. Maynard announced looking only at the two male psychologists.

"I find Eve charming and very easy to talk with," Dr. Norse stated matter-of-factly, "but she did display forgetfulness when we spoke in a casual setting." The three doctors nodded.

"Eve, we have developed a treatment plan for you." Finally, Dr. Maynard addressed me. In fact, all of them had their eyes on me and it made me feel small and worthless.

I nodded. The pain in my stomach was increasing and it had begun to spread to my shoulders. I felt as if it would rise to my neck and I would become unable to speak.

"We won't know if you've stabilized for a couple of weeks. We're going to have you undergo electroshock therapy. This treatment has a very high success rate for melancholia."

I nodded. I wanted to cry and resist. I wanted to scream, but I held on to the belief that perhaps Nellie was who she said she was. The way she left certainly indicated something. I didn't know what she'd do for me. I had a sobering thought; I could make it three weeks of treatment if I knew that would help get me home. So I told myself they would. In that moment, I'd convinced myself that Mary and Nellie were going to get me out.

"Thank you for helping me," I said just as Nellie and I had practiced. "The time I've had to rest here has already been very good for me."

This was the first time I saw Dr. Maynard smile. He nodded his head. "I'm so glad Eve. I know it isn't easy to try and carry on with all the duties of motherhood with so much pain all the time. You are a very good candidate for treatment."

I felt dizzy and forced myself not to faint.

"Eve, is there anything else?" Dr. Maynard asked.

"I would love to see my son and my friends." I said.

The board all looked at one another. Dr. Maynard turned to the social worker. I don't know why this was her domain but it was. Mrs. Lange was skinny and tall. She had an Adam's apple and wore a mustard colored shirt with a straight black skirt. Her hair was up in a fashion meant for older woman, yet she could only have been little older than me. She was smoking; red lipstick smudges were around the filter when she removed her cigarette, looked up from the paper and spoke to me, "You mean your son and those caring for him in your absence?"

"Yes, that's right." I said politely, avoiding any desperation.

She nodded squinting from the smoke that wafted right into her face. She waved the smoke away and looked at the doctors. "Yes. I think it would be good for her. She poses no harm to herself or anyone else. Her violent behavior may have been caused by the shock of leaving her home so suddenly. She is melancholic not violent. Yes, I think family and some occupational therapy time outdoors would aid in Mrs. Miller's rehabilitation."

The doctors all nodded their heads. Nellie's advice had been right. I felt elated over the thought of seeing my baby, but I only allowed a subtle smile, "thank you. "

The lanky social worker stood and walked me to the door. I kept my gait calm although on the inside I was trembling. She wore a charm bracelet on her wrist and when she turned the doorknob, it jingled. The sound the metal charms made reminded me of the bracelet Jeff had given me before I'd become pregnant. That seemed like years and years ago. I remembered how much I'd loved it. It was jade with gold Chinese coins. I remembered his blue eyes watching me as I opened the box, examining my reaction. Then he spoke to me with paternal affection, as if I were his child not his lover, "You'll wear this every day and whenever you hear that lovely sound, you'll think of me."

Her long face formed a look of compassion. I could see that she and I were just the same, neither more sane than the other. I also knew she recognized the irony too. If she had been in my circumstance she'd be the one beginning the interminable wait for electric shock therapy. She'd would have been the one to hold back screams from unparalleled fear and grief. She'd have to learn to pretend to feel something she didn't, against a deluge of natural emotions and self-protective reflexes.

I smiled and nodded.

"You'll be all right. I'm looking out for you," she whispered. "I won't forget you."

When she opened the door, I expected the stout one to be there, eagerly awaiting an opportunity to continue with her schoolyard taunting. She was the easiest to ignore. She was the idiot. It was Eileen waiting outside of the room for me. I was so happy to see it was her. Pretty Eileen. She looked even rosier than usual. Her black hair was in a short wave, and her cheeks flushed.

"Eileen" I said, almost falling into her arms, as if she were Carmen.

She took my hand as the door to the boardroom closed. "How are you love? Everything's all right isn't it?"

I shrugged my shoulders. As much as I trusted Eileen, Nellie had made it very clear that I shouldn't really trust anyone. "I'm fine."

"Listen Evie, I shouldn't say it, but I heard there's been a letter about you."

Even more than the treatment I knew I'd soon have to endure, this news terrified me. My legs grew weak and gave out. I fell to the floor. Eileen helped me back up. "What happened to you Evie?"

I felt like I was falling down the rabbit hole, I was dizzy and breathless. Somehow I managed to pull myself up. I made a foolish excuse. "This shoe. Is there something wrong with the heel?" I was trembling so hard that she must have known how frightened I was she held my hand to steady me.

She laughed her carefree laugh. It was clear that there was always something else on her mind. She was in love or maybe just infatuated. "Evie dear, there's a letter and all the doctors are buzzing about it."

"Who's it from?"

"Don't know. Whoever it is, it's someone important though."

I felt my heart sink. I knew it was from Jeff Lambert. I knew it. Somehow there was something more he could do to harm me. I walked forward, a zombie, the things I had suppressed were evaporating; all of me was gone except one short film clip in my mind. A black and white newsreel with Mary, Frank and Charlie. In the thought I'm with them; we're sitting under a tree that has grown large in the back yard of my house in Bend. It doesn't matter what Eileen was saying, I was watching the movie in my head over and over. I passed hallways with women crouched as far in the corner as they could be, their hands over heads rocking. I passed others pacing in wildly irregular steps and yelling out obscenities. I saw women in straight jackets, tied to benches. Nurses, moving amongst them.

"Want a game of cards?" Eileen asked me as we entered the game room. I was able to hold the little newsreel in my thoughts and also sit down with her. Not a few moments later, I saw the debonair, confident Dr. Norse enter the room. He waltzed from table to table, sometimes sitting and talking with the patients. Eileen's green eyes followed him from place to place, and it was clear to see that there was something between them. When he finally made it back to my table, he sat down. Eileen and I were already engaged in a game of rummy.

"How are you girls?" He asked with a charming lilt in his voice, meant for Eileen I could tell. Her face grew even more flush. He lifted his hand and smoothed his hair to one side, when he brought his hand back down, I saw a wedding ring. He reminded me so much of Jeff, I wanted to warn Eileen, but anything I said might have made me look crazier or caused me more problems. As Nellie said, "keep yourself from being noticed at all." Not too nice, not too emotional.

Dr. Norse asked me if he could steal Eileen from me for a moment. I smiled and nodded as if I were none the wiser. I looked around the hall, a picture of hell. I thought of Jeff Lambert and I realized that it might have been worse if I'd done what he'd said. If I had done what he'd wanted and left Mary and Frank to move down to Eugene with him. He might have somehow done had me put away either way. He might have grown bored with me or become more violent and one day just to punish me, do just the same as he did that afternoon at my house in Bend. The letter to the doctors came back into my thoughts. What else was there for him to use against me? Every time I thought he'd gotten what he'd wanted, it seemed there was more he could take from me. Could he have known how much he'd already destroyed my life? If not for the thread of that dream, the movie reel had taken place of my reality, if not for that I'd be insane. There was no other way to make it through my time there, but to pretend. It was as though I was keeping myself just on the edge of insanity, until finally I broke loose and went crazy. I knew they would lock me in the back ward, or they'd make me a zombie with a head bandage bumping into walls, drooling and slurring incoherencies. The letter terrified me. Each event, each piece of new information was a weight on my back, I didn't know how much more I could endure before I broke.

Eileen and Dr. Norse returned to the table. Eileen was very excited and Dr. Norse was smiling paternalistically, nodding for Eileen to go ahead and tell me some news that they had between them. She stood a little too close to him and looked up at him beaming, while he looked down on her with a look of amusement as if she were the apple of his eye. She straightened her skirt and squirmed a bit. I couldn't figure out how, at one time, I thought she was like Carmen. She was nothing like her; Carmen was strong and defiant. Sarcastic. So pretty, coy but not naive or foolish. Eileen, a girl I once felt was an ally, was sweet but she was indeed foolish. It bothered me. I pictured the film

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net