The Bloody Doors Off

A confession up-front: I’ve never seen that movie all the way through. Nor have I sat through the entirety of Shawshank Redemption. I chose the title mostly because, well, when they finally took me to the sixth floor in H Wing that Wednesday morning, it felt like I was walking a mile towards my doom.

They woke me up around 8am that morning. Still on the ground floor secured ward, the curtain half-drawn. The nurse called out my name with a call and answer. Much Music was on the television nearby. (This became a recurring thing; I’m not sure how videos of a naked Miley Cyrus riding a giant wrecking ball was supposed to make me better.) They brought breakfast and pills.

And then my brother Kevin showed up. I’d remembered leaving him a message Tuesday night, before Scott arrived at my place and we made our way to Toronto East General.

The visit was extremely emotional for both of us. We cried; we hugged. We talked about how we weren’t raised to share our emotions like this, how we felt like we just had to shoulder the pain and turbulence and put on a brave face. That it took this moment for us to break through that wall.

Live with Kelly and Michael was now on in the background. We talked for a bit longer before Kevin had to head out. I remember seeing him again later that day, but I can’t remember if it was on the ground floor or the 6th.

I overheard the nurses talking about my admittance to upstairs; they were just waiting for a bed to open up. I had no idea how many rooms were there, whether I’d have my own room (or how bad off you had to be in order to sleep solo), no idea of what was coming next.

All I knew was, I was wearing two hospital gowns, underwear and socks, and the green foam piggy slippers. At least no angry birds had been tossed at me yet. Man, I wanted to be funny. It’s my default when things are bad. I crack jokes, make light of the bullshit. And I had nothing. Couldn’t even make fun of myself (another default).

In retrospect I realize I could’ve sat in one of the chairs and watched the television to pass the time. But I was so damned tired, so I ended up curling up and trying to sleep. That’s also something you don’t realize until it hits: the pure exhaustion.

The more I think about it, the more I’m sure Kevin came back while I was still downstairs. Yeah, that makes sense.

And sometime shortly after noon, I heard the news. A bed had opened up, and I was to be escorted to H Wing on Six. Different security guard with all of my clothes and possessions tagged and bagged (I don’t know why I thought the same guy would be there) and a good 5 minute walk and elevator ride later, and I stood at the secured doors of the Psychiatric Unit.

Unprepared for what came next.