First Hospitalization

Maybe if I tell this here, I will never ever have to tell it again. Maybe one person will say, how come no one saved you or helped you. Or, maybe I'll just be able to stop crying about it.

I hear the cops talking on their walkie thing. They say, "Raleigh, Durham Hospital, we have a code 43." What is a code 43? Why am I in handcuffs. I don't want to be wearing these. Two cops walk me in a busy ER. Why am I here? What did I do? What do they want from me? I am so so scared. I try to leave, I don't want to be there. I am scared. I ask to leave. They ask me to put on a vest. I blindly do what they ask. It's a straight jacket.

The cops check me in. The intake nurse and cop turn to me. The nurse says "Do you know where you are?" Me, "The hospital." The nurse, "Do you know why you are here?" Me, "No." Nurse, "What year is it?". Me, "2004." Nurse, "Where do you live?" Me, "Where do I live? I don't know." Nurse, "Where is your home?" Me, "Home?" I don't have a home. I need a home. What is home? I am so scared. Nurse, "What is your address?" School? Camp? My parents? No, I don't belong in any of these places. I don't have a home. Me, "I don't have one." Nurse, "Ok, thank you.", to the cops, "I'll take it from here." A tech ushers me into an empty room with cement walls and a floor. There is a chair in the room. There is a window where I can see the rest of the ER. It's like a medical holding cell. They tell me to sit and wait in there.

They lock a big heavy door and leave me alone in there. I am so scared. I look out the window. I see the camp couple that turned me over to the cops. The lady is staring at me. Her name is Julie. Her eyes are wide open, and for the first time I realize someone is afraid of me. She doesn't look concerned. She is shocked and scared of me. Her mouth is a straight line. There is no compassion in her eyes. They are dead and staring at me. I see another woman sitting out side the locked room. She is an elderly woman and looks kind. She reminds me of my grandmother. I pretend my grandmother is there with me, watching me, caring for me. Because, you see, I have no home. I've never been locked up. I sing, "Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee." I am getting more afraid and in there for so long, so I sing louder. I don't know if they can hear me out there.

I have to use the restroom so I walk to the door and try and make noise. Someone sees me. One of the cops is still there. He tells me, yes, I can use the restroom. He walks me to a bathroom door and lets me in, while he waits outside. I am wearing a one piece bathing suit, track pants and a straight jacket. And I am supposed to pee? No one cared. I twisted and stretched and figured it out. I wasn't sure if it was humiliating, degrading or completely bad ass that I performed this David Blaine feat. Heh. The things we will do for survival, or whatever it is to need to urinate.

Eventually, a tech gets me and walks me to a side wing of the hospital. This wing has two big heavy doors and requires a badge and unlocking system to get in. They take me to a room and give me some pills they say I have to take. They walk me to a room with two beds. It looks like a cozy jail. They watch as I take the medication. I lay down. The room goes black.