Welcome to Hill City Mental Health- Chapter 28- February 11th 3:30 PM

Kyle finally knows what is setting him off, but can he finally control himself enough to receive help.

Most of the car ride was silent"it was weird being in a car because the last time I was in a car it was my Uncle Harry’s patrol car. I can’t believe that all of this has happened to me within 24 hours"it still feels unreal. It took us about five minutes to reach the Hill City Mental Hospital.

            “Don’t try anything stupid this time, Kyle, or you’re going in with restraints on,” Dr. Kanes warned me. You’re really scaring me, Kanes, why would you even think I would even attempt that again? Nothing is triggering me right now to do anything stupid, and besides once they get those nice meds inside of me"I won’t want to do anything but sleep. He walks to my side of the car and opens my door. I stand up and don’t move.

            “Come on,” Dr. Kanes commands me. What am I? A f*****g poodle? I don’t think so.

            “Oh, I thought you didn’t want me going anywhere,” I sarcastically told him.

            “Don’t start Kyle!” He warned me. “You won’t be able to give them sass in here. If you want to get out of here, I would suggest behavior your best.” Okay, we will see about that. Please don’t tell me anything else that is going to make feel utterly stupid"I’m already brainfucked enough. We walked towards the entrance and Dr. Kanes pressed a button.

            “Hello, what are you here for?” A woman over the intercom asks.

            “Hi, my name is Dr. Pat Kanes and I’m here with Kyle Jenson. I spoke with Michelle earlier about him.”

            “Oh okay, Dr. Kanes, please come on in.”

            “Thank you,” the door opens and we enter. We are first greeted by a woman in scrubs.

            “Hi, you must be Kyle?” Hi, and yes, I am. You must be a lady with one of those people with an annoying squeaky voices that I hate.

            “Hi,” I quietly said.

            “The administrator already has your file and is waiting for your arrival.” I nod"don’t say a word. “Thank you Dr. Kanes for transporting him here.”

            “It is my pleasure. Kyle, I know it is going to be a hard transition, but you’ll fine, this staff is great and you’ll exit these doors here a new person.” Dr. Kanes shakes my hand and exits. Great. Now I’m stuck here in this looney bin with a bunch of nut cases and Ms. Squeaky Voice over here.

            “Alright, Kyle, I’m going to take you into one of our examination rooms and just take a quick look at you. So, follow me,” she tells me. I follow her into this bright white room, it reminded me of the hospital. She shut the door behind us and took out her laptop and put it on the counter.

            “Can I have you take all of your clothes off except your underwear?” I didn’t say anything, I just did what she told me to do. I didn’t want her to see my deep cuts on my arms and wrists. She first went behind me to look at my back and lower legs.

            “What happened to your back?” she asks. She seemed genuinely concerned about what was wrong with my back.

            “I was tased by my uncle last night,” I quietly told her.

            “Why did he do that?”

            “He is a police officer and he tased me to prevent me from jumping off a cliff.”

            “Oh… okay.” She proceeds to the front and begins to start marking the chart? “Are these self-injury cuts?” She obviously points to my arms. I nod my head in embarrassment. I start to get red in the face and it is noticeable. “No need to get embarrassed Kyle, it is a normal routine we do.”

            “So everyone has to go through it?”

            “That’s right,” she smiles once again. How does she smile this much? Doesn’t it hurt her cheeks? “Now, can I have you step over here onto the scale?” I walked across the room and stood on the scale. She played with it for a few seconds until she got the correct measurements. “5 foot 5 inches and 130 pounds. You’re in the normal range for your height and weight,” she tells me. Well that is at least one thing that is normal with me. “Now can I have you sit on the bed for me so I can take your blood pressure?” I didn’t say anything, but listened. She strapped the Velcro belt around my right upper arm and started pumping. “117 over 77,” she says to herself.         “Alright, it looks like we are done here. Let me show you where Michelle, our administrator’s office is located.” I follow her into the main office and around some turns. We reach an open door that said ‘Administrator’, the nurse leads me in. The woman gets up from her chair all smiles.

            “Hi, you must be Kyle Jenson?” She asks me.

            “Yes, I am,” I mutter.

            “I am Michelle Cooke, I am the administrator here at Hill City Mental Hospital.” I smile trying to leave a decent impression. “Thank you, Nicole, for leading him here. I’ll get him all situated,” she told the nurse.

            “You’re welcome,” the nurse said and left. Michelle closed the door and locked it.

            “Here Kyle, have a seat.”

            “Thanks,” I quietly say. She goes around her desk and sits at her computer chair.

            “I’ve heard about you. Dr. Kanes has told me all about you and all your information.” She set down my file on her desk. She seems nice so far, let’s see how long this lasts. “Now before I can talk to you, I just need some general important information.

            “Okay,” I say.

            “Your full name?”

            “Kyle Aaron Jenson.”

            “Date of birth?”

            “November 20, 1997.” Can we please have a date of death already?

            “Home address?”

            “331 Main St. Hill City.”

            “Social Security number?”

            “006-63-3439”

            “Parent’s name?”

            “Tim and Heather Jenson.”

            “And the reason you’re visiting is because of attempted suicide and recovery, correct?” She asks. As much as I wanted to give her an attitude, I bit my tongue and just went along.

            “Yes.”

            “And your parents do know you’re here because they signed all the paperwork,” she tells me. Thanks Mom and Dad, I appreciate it.

            “Alright, Kyle, that’s done. Let me go over with some general rules with you and how our facility works.”

            “Okay,” I nod my head.

            “You’re being placed in our recovery wing from suicide in ROOM 45 with two roommates.” Great, I have to deal with people. “Our facility runs on a points system and you need to obtain 100 points to achieve graduation. Every day, you’ll start with 10 points, and if you show the staff that you’re on your best behavior then you’ll keep your 10 points for the day. You are required to stay here at least ten days to achieve the 100 points. If you’re not on your best behavior, skip a meal, are being disrespectful towards staff, or throw a temper tantrum, you’ll be docked points for the day until you hit 0. If you hit 0 for a day, you automatically have to stay an extra day to make up for the day you got a 0.” Great, all this just sounds fantastic. “If staff catches you trying to harm yourself, or others, you’ll get an automatic 0 for the day and place in your room for the rest of the day. Here is how your schedule is going to work:

8 AM: Morning wake-up.

8:15 AM: Line up to get your blood pressure, temperature, and get medication.

8:30 AM: Proceed to the cafeteria for breakfast.

9:30 AM: Therapy, setting goals and group discussions.

10:00 AM: Group room where you’ll be associating with others for an hour.

11:00 AM: Meet with your counselor, which is Dr. Nicks.

12:00 PM: Lunchtime.

12:45 PM: Education therapy; learn about other disorders and how to cope with them.

2:00 PM: Group room.

5:00 PM: Dinner.

6:00 PM: Visitation hour.

7:00 PM: Group room

8:00 PM: Closure group to see if you met your daily goals.

8:30 PM: Nighttime medicine.

9:00 PM: Group room.

10:00 PM: Bedtime.”

            “Is this going to be my schedule every day?” I ask.

            “Yes,” she replies. Doesn’t seem that bad, but we will see.

            “Any questions so far?” May I go home and suffer some more?

            “Nope,” I tell her.

            “Alright, bathrooms are open for you whenever you need them, just let a nurse or tech know, but the only time they aren’t open is an hour after each meal because of the anorexic and bulimic patients.” That doesn’t even apply to me because I’m not anorexic or bulimic so please save your retched voice, but I just nod in response. “Your parents did drop off your clothing, and we have already went through it and inspected it because clothing can’t have zippers or strings.”

            “Okay.”

            “I also need to have you trade your sneakers you’re wearing right now for slippers because they have laces.” Really? It is going to be that much of a hazard if I have shoelaces. Oh well. I take off my shoes and give them to her. Here, you can have them. They smell like sweat and my toenails anyways. I slide the white hospital-like slippers on my feet and surprisingly"they are kind of comfy.

            “They are kind of comfy,” I smirk.

            “They are,” she chuckles.

            “Now, Kyle, your file says that you have extreme impulsive behavior and can’t control it when put into stressful situations which contributes to your Panic Disorder.  So, Dr. Kanes has prescribed you Zoloft for your Panic Disorder and your Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, he also put you on some anti-depressants and some Prozac for your depression, but you’re already on that from the last time you were in the hospital.” Wonderful, now I’m a druggie, I’ve always wanted to be labeled as one too. “You should see some improvement after a few days with your depression being on the medication, but you should see yourself not as panicked after a week or so, and you’ll see your symptoms almost diminish after about six weeks, more than likely when you’re at home and out of here.” I’ve been on my anti-depression medication for almost a week, and the only thing it has help is making me not cut, but other than that, I still want to die. “We try to keep our facility as calm and safe as possible so patients like you can have some time to heal and be stress-free.” So much information, can we be done this so I can go to my room already?

            “Is there any protocols with patients like me who in for suicide?”

            “Yes, Plumbing, electrical, and mechanical devices designed to be tamper proof, use of breakaway shower-rods and bars, no clothes hooks, elimination of all jumping opportunities, control of entrances and exits by staff provision for patient bedroom doors to be opened by staff in case of emergency, laminated glass for windows in inpatient units, fiber-reinforced board for walls, special features in seclusion rooms to eliminate all opportunities for self-injury, including outward opening door with no inside doorknob, appropriate locations for grab bars and handrails.” Jeez, this is like a prison with barbwire, but on the inside.

            “Wow, that is a lot of precautions,” I say trying at least to seem somewhat interested.

            “We care about your safety, Kyle.” Yeah, I see that. “You’re also responsible for keeping your part of the room clean and tidy as a daily responsibility and doing laundry. You can make these a part of your daily goals, if you’d like, but it is totally up to you.”

            “Okay,” I nod.

            “Your whole goal here is to get better and show you a new pathway in your life. It doesn’t seem like you’re a troublemaker because I’ve seen a lot of bad kids, but we will see.” Wow, thanks a lot for underestimating me. “That is basically our facility, do you have any questions?” Her eyes got freakishly big and gleamed like one of these characters from an old children’s show. I gave her a weird a*s look.

            “Um… No,” I said in a kind of snooty voice. She looks at me sternly. F**k, that’s right they’re strict here. I instantly cover my mouth. “Oops, I’m sorry,” I told her. She leans back and looks at me.

            “You’re down to 9 points for the day, Kyle,” she tells me. I am completely shocked. Seriously b***h? I said one little snooty thing and you dock me a point. Just f**k! “Let’s go meet your nurse and your tech, then I’ll escort you to your room.” She stands up and walks around. She stops when she gets to my chair, I immediately stand up. I walk right beside her, not in front, not behind, exactly right beside her. We exit the office and walk to the left and then take a right. The border says, ‘Suicide Wing Rooms 20-50’. We walk about halfway down the hall to the nurse’s station. The hallway is bright, painted a light blue with green borders. “Stacy?”

            “Yes, Michelle?” She walks over to us.

            “Stacy, this is Kyle, he is our newest patient and he will be boarding in ROOM 45.

            “Alright,” she tells her. I look down. “Hi, Kyle, I’m Stacy, you’ll be in good hands with me,” she smiles. She seems nice to me.  

            “Is Victoria around?” Michelle asks.

            “Yeah, she is in the back, let me go get her,” Nurse Stacy leaves.

            “Thank you,” Michelle told her as she was walking away. We waited a few short moments and Nurse Stacy came out with another woman.

            “Victoria, this is Kyle, he is one of our newest patients here, and you’ll assisting him along with your other two boys.” She shakes my hand softly.

            “Hi Kyle, I’m a fun and calm person, and I think we are going to have a good time while getting you the help you need,” she smiles. Jeez, these people are like zombies with the smiling, but at least they are nice.

            “Nice to meet you,” I smile.

            “If you ever need anything, just let Victoria know and she will be here.”

            “I work Monday-Friday, Kyle between 8-8 so I’m here most days you are,” she tells me. But what if I’m in a dire emergency in the middle of the night on a Saturday, what are you going to do then Victoria? 

            “Alright, Kyle,” Michelle checks her watch. “4:15 so most everyone is in the group room, but Victoria told your roommates to stay in their room so they can meet you, their newest roommate.” Peachy, just peachy, I get to go meet people. We start to walk down the hallway again and we are almost at the end of the hall. Where the hell is my room? ROOM 45, on the right. Michelle knocks on the door and the two boys instantly look up and one stands up.

            “Kyle, these are your two roommates, Jamie and Trevor,” she says. “Jamie, Trevor, this is Kyle.”