Chapter 9
One flew into the cuckoo's nest
There are different types of psychiatric hospitals; some are nice, and filled with caring, helpful and knowledgeable staff. Some are dull gray industrial monstrosities full of staff who are just as psychopathic and devoid of empathy as the worst of their patients. Both of those types of psychiatric hospitals are equally rare: not quite unicorn rare, but still it's easier to find the third type. The third type, and by far the most common type is neither good nor bad, but instead just a place to put the mentally ill while doctors get paid to look like they are actually helping them. In north central Aroostook County is a very special psychiatric hospital, “The Bawn.” It has an official name too, but everybody just calls it The Bawn. It is located just outside of Bath a mere twelve miles from the Aroostook County Hospital, and is surrounded by a large stone wall, from whence it derives its name. You may be wondering which of the three types of psychiatric hospital it is, and if you were to guess, chances are you'd be at least partly wrong. That is because The Bawn is somehow all three types simultaneously, and that is the reason that it is very special.
Most people never set foot inside a psychiatric hospital in their entire lives, just as most people never see inside a prison except for movies and television. Only in facilities for the criminally insane though will you find one that seems like the other. The Bawn wasn't one of those facilities. In it patients are supervised constantly, but nobody is locked in cells, or manacled. Not in this century, anyways. Patients are allowed full access to the grounds, staff areas excepted of course, and can do pretty much whatever they want, within reason, provided they don't break any laws or rules of the facility. Of course, patients get treatment too.
Throughout the 120 year history of The Bawn “Treatment” has meant a lot of different things: Electroshock therapy, Hydro shock therapy, which is also sometimes known as Cold Hydrotherapy, medicines both old and new, even Freudian Analysis. In today's modern psychiatric hospital the word therapy typically means medicine. In the mornings before breakfast, nurses walk the grounds delivering little paper cups of pills to all the patients, and then again after dinner. In between patients needed to figure out how to occupy their time, unless they were 'lucky' enough to have a doctor visit scheduled, or a group session. Some played basketball in the courtyard, other read books from the carefully curated library, played cards or board games, or just sat there staring off into space. That last one is a very popular choice. In fact, so many patients choose to sit there staring off into space that some of the staff secretly wonder if there is something terribly interesting happening in the empty space that they tend to stare at that is just invisible to normal people. You could ask one of them, but you'll get a different answer depending on who you ask, provided you get an answer at all.
This isn't Jacks first rodeo, he's been in facilities like this before, and so unlike the last few times he's woken up lately, he is very much not shocked. Red Shirt had screwed him over big time, and whether he was a hallucination or a ghost or some other maybe even weirder thing didn't matter. He had tricked Jack into reacting without thinking, and made it look to all the world like he had purposefully attacked his own doctor for no reason after having a conversation with an imaginary person. Getting sectioned is what its called in the medical industry, and what it means is you get to act as normal as you can for 72 hours, and probably get to leave. The problems start when you can't manage to seem sane for 72 hours in a row. Lots of people who never set foot inside a psychiatric hospital would have a hard time acting sane for three whole days, so it's lucky for them that they haven't. Jack knows that he has had issues, but he's convinced that he isn't really insane, he just needs to keep his cool, and not react to any hallucinations until the medicine started working. Do that, and he would sail right out in three days. Jack is an optimist. OK, he's not really an optimist, it there was something more negative than a pessimist, then Jack would be that. But people can change, Jack can be an optimist, things might work out. Right?
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“Doctor Posey tells me that he observed you appearing to have a conversation in the cafeteria and that there wasn't anybody there. How about we start talking about that Jack? You don't mind if I call you Jack, right?” Said Dr Smiley, the Psychiatrist at The Bawn. It was a very fitting name for him, because he was in fact quite smiley. With teeth like Smiley had, he could have been a TV news anchorman. Or a dentist. Actually with a name like Dr Smiley, dentist would have been an excellent job for him, though Jack supposed that psychiatry paid better. Jack was never a fan of psychiatrists, not that many people could say that they were, but Jack had an especially bad opinion of them. Jack had been here before, not here here, in this facility, but figuratively here, as in he had been on an involuntary psychiatric hold before, sitting in front of a big desk with a psychiatrist on the other side of it. That had not turned out super well last time, but maybe his previous experience would help him navigate the situation better this time.
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“Jack is fine. It is my name after all. And yeah, I guess I hallucinated Red Shirt man? Personally I blame the coma and all the drugs I was given during it. Dr Posey examined me, and I was told that I was relatively healthy, so when I was approached by Red Shirt, um... a weird old man in the cafeteria, I just naturally assumed that he was actually real, ha ha.” Talking to psychiatrists always made Jack nervous. A nervous Jack is a talkative Jack. Just try to be honest, and everything will work itself out. That was what he had learned back at the Silverman Institute, lying about your problems just makes people convinced that you're hiding things. Which makes sense, because hiding things is basically what lying was invented for.
“Red Shirt?” asked Smiley, jotting a quick note down on a notepad before looking back up at Jack.
“Well... yeah, dude never introduced himself, which I thought was rude. So for lack of a better option I gave him a nickname. Red Shirt seemed appropriate, as he was wearing a red plaid button down, old jeans and leather cowboy boots. I suppose I could have called him old jeans, but that sounds stupid. And boots is a better name for a cat than for an old dude. Not that I was thinking any of these things at the time, I just picked the most notable thing about him and made it his moniker in lieu of his name, which as I said, he wouldn't give.”
“Sure. OK. That all makes sense. So, you were eating in the cafeteria, and Red Shirt comes up to you and what happened next?” Smiley was full of questions. All psychiatrists in Jacks experience were full of questions. Not so helpful with answers though. But they sure did love asking questions. Jack loved asking questions too, and he wasn't paid two hundred thousand dollars a year to do it, unlike psychiatrists. So Jack recounted the events of that meeting in great and laborious detail, leaving nothing out, only pausing in his story occasionally to answer the many questions posed to him by Dr. Smiley.
“...and so then I ended up here, and you know the rest.” Jack finished.
“This isn't the first time that you've spent time in an institutional setting, is it Jack?” Doctor Smiley asked.
“No, it isn't. I spent a few months at a place in Salem after... After.” Jack visibly winced at the end of that sentence. He knew what was coming and he didn't want to talk about it. He didn't even want to think about it. He started fidgeting a little in the large comfortable chair.
“It's OK Jack, I can see that's a bit of a sore spot for you. Would you like to wait to talk about it until you're more comfortable?” Doctor Smiley was showing an incredible facility with making every statement into a question.
“Don't you have other patients? I can't just stay in here taking up all your time, right?” Finally Jack got to ask a question. At this the Doctor smiled even bigger.
“They didn't tell you who I was Jack, did they? I'm the Director here at The Bawn. I oversee, I administrate. I only see patients occasionally now, and even then, only when I'm interested in the case for one reason or another. In your case, I'm interested because I knew your uncle Randall, and I owe him a lot. Actually, a lot of folks here owe him, he was kind of a bigshot around here. When people have... lets call them 'problems' that they can't afford to handle, or don't know how to handle, they used to visit your uncle, and he would... make the 'problem' go away. The less said of that the better, but you should know at least that much. It might help with understanding how things work here. So, to answer your question, no I don't have any other patient obligations right now. You will have my undivided attention for as long as you'll need it.” said the Director of The Bawn.
“Wow. OK. Huh. Well, now I don't know if I feel lucky, or terrified.” This was Jacks first lie in this session. He knew damn well how he felt, and it wasn't lucky. But saying it would be kind of insulting, and jack might be a bit crazy, but he was sane enough to realize that you shouldn't piss off the guy who held the rubber keys to the rubber rooms. Jacks experience with the staff of psychiatric hospitals had taught him that they reacted very poorly to any perceived slights.
“Also, it's great uncle, he was my Mom's uncle, not mine. I never even heard of him until after he died.”
Jack was also still trying to wrap his head around the vague description of great uncle Randall as some kind of 'bigshot'. So far, it was the only thing Jack knew about him, except that he liked beer, and that he fell down the stairs. Smiley made him sound like... like some kind of local Godfather. If he was involved with stuff like that, it's no wonder Mom didn't talk about him. Jack resolved to try to find out more about great uncle Randall and the rest of Mom's side of the family as soon as he had an opportunity.
“I can see you need some time to process Jack. I tell you what, I'll have a nurse set you up in a room, and have you assigned to Doctor Andrew's track. She deals with the inpatient voluntaries. It's a great program, we've had excellent results. After you get settled in, I'll have you called in for another meeting and we can talk about Grace. How does that sound?” asked Doctor Smiley.
“... Yeah, OK, fine. But don't call her that, OK? She liked to be called Ace alright?” Tears had already started running down Jack's face as he left what was now obviously the Director's office. Dammit, I said I didn't want to think about it.