THE DARK TIME ENDS AT LAST

As suddenly and inexplicably as it had descended, my depression began to lift.  I was weaned off the anti-psychotic (I had never been psychotic) and told I could go home Monday with a prescription for an antidepressant.  Paul was overjoyed as being both Mommy and Daddy had been very difficult.  Jeanne had not been allowed to come and visit me.

On Saturday night the patients and staff had an unexpected treat.  Two singers came with their own pianist and we all gathered in the big room where we had our snacks.  The singers were from Melba's church and were fantastic.  They sang selections from the musical Show Boat and I was enchanted.  I was thrilled that I could actually feel enchanted--any feeling but despair and acute anxiety.  The gentleman possessed a deep, resonant voice and ended the performance with a stirring rendition of Old Man River.  There was enthusiastic applause and calls for encores (from me) and they were more than happy to oblige.  Even the shut down patients were clapping.  The couple asked Melba to sing with them and to no one's surprise Melba was fantastic as the trio sang a medley from Show Boat.

The kitchen had outdone themselves with snacks and gorgeous cupcakes were the crowning glory.

The ice had surely been broken and I had a wonderful time and I'm pretty sure everyone else did too.  Melba made sure no one felt left out.

On Monday I packed my little suitcase, hugged Melba and told her she should be on Broadway.  Paul and Jeanne were waiting for me downstairs and I went home at last.  Although I have experienced brief periods of depression and anxiety since then, I never again felt the crushing despair and persistent pessimism of those dark days.

There were consequences, however.  For two years after I left the hospital I brought singers from the Players where Paul was director who gladly sang for this special audience.

And years later I went back to school, finished my BA and earned an MA in Counseling and worked as a psychotherapist for 36 frustrating and fulfilling years.  At some point I ran into my former psychiatrist and I told him of my new profession.

He smiled and murmured, "It's about time."

A VERY DARK TIME - Part 2

I don't know how long I was in the hospital.  At first, I slept all the time, but then they began decreasing my dosage a bit and I went to Arts and Crafts.  I tried to make things but it felt like my  fingers were sausages and I kept dropping my little piece of leather on the floor.  I was hopeless.  Of course, now I love arts and crafts.  The psychiatrist seemed to recognize talents in me I didn't know I had.  I was asked to take an elderly widower for a walk and it went very well.  Every day after that he and I walked together.  Then I was asked to play shuffleboard with a suicidal teenaged boy which I was happy to do as I really liked shuffleboard and was a pretty good player.  But my severely depressed young man was a shark and soundly beat me every single time.  He would hit the disk so hard that I thought he would split it.  We played in a long hallway with the court painted on the floor.  Our violent play stopped traffic and the drugged patients just stood by, watching, until the game was over and then they scurried down the hall, probably on their way to making small leather pouches.  

There was never conversation of any kind during our intense play, but one day he said, "I'm going home tomorrow."

I just stood there, but I realized I would miss him.  "Oh," I said.  My slowed down brain could think of nothing to say.

Then, "You're a really good player."

His expression didn't change, but he said, "Yes.  I know."

Every evening we all met in the common room for snacks.  Our gathering was presided over by a big, smiling, good-natured Black nurse whose ready laugh warmed the room.  Her name was Melba and I wanted her to be my grandmother; everyone did I think.  That night I noticed a very old lady spreading peanut butter on a napkin and I was afraid she would eat it.  She did eat it.  I jumped up, ran to Nurse Melba and whispered, "She's eating a napkin with peanut butter on it."

She gave me her big, generous smile and said, "Help me up, Baby; I got a bad knee."  So, together, we walked over to the lady who was ripping up her napkin sandwich into small pieces.

"Now, Honey, let's get you some bread that's easy to eat.  Here, this bread is real soft; I'll put some peanut butter on it.  This kind don't have any nuts in it.  Should be easy to eat."

The elderly lady took a bite and smiled.  "It's real good."

Thank the Lord for Nurse Melba.  I went back to my seat and bit into a chocolate chip cookie.  When I looked around the room, I saw the Wonder Boy of Shuffleboard looking at me.

He smiled.  HE SMILED.

TO BE CONCLUDED