A/N: Hey, guys! It might seem like I'm bringing Margot and her food thing in too much, but I swear that she did this every meal. Holy fuck it was a lot, and it makes me wonder now if she had ever gone without food for long periods of time. Maybe that was where this anxiety came from. I don't know dude, it was just wild. The only way that my second hospitalization was better than my first (subsequently, the facility - minus the food - really was a "resort-like." For those of you who don't end up reading my Shameless fic (titled "Man of the House," if any of you are interested). I'll briefly explain how vastly different this two places were. Why? Because I think about this a lot and I want someone to tell, so I'm telling all of you lovely human beings. (Also, I want to quickly thank all you guys for being incredibly supportive of both my mental health and my writing. Turns out I'm going to be published in a lit journal sometime in the coming month(s), so I'll let you guys know more about that as it develops!)
Okay, so, the differences between the Center of Hope and Memorial Hospital. As you may have guessed, I've cut out vital pieces of these names for internet safety or some shit. For simplicity's sake, we'll call the first - the one in this fic - CH. The one in Man of the House, we'll just call M. In M, I was on suicide watch for the first night. After that shit (honestly, one of the worst nights I've endured), I immediately went, "No, no, no, I don't want to hurt myself every again. Please give me a normal room and a normal gown please." The reason I was begging this was because I was stuck in this awful, plastic-y gown that had three sleeves. You put your right arm through two of the sleeves so that you didn't need strings. When I did all the paperwork (aided by a very pregnant nurse who I used to know in high school) and they eventually let me go to bed, it was not in a normal room. Instead of it being down the hall in the rooms that were almost normal, I went into this darkened hallway. There was a bathroom that looked like it would have been in a scary, abandoned hospital and I didn't know if I was allowed to turn on the lights in there. Back in the room that they gave me to sleep in, I wasn't allowed to turn off the lights - wasn't even able. There was no pillow on the bed and only one blanket. I vaguely remember a window, but I may have imagined it. Let me reiterate (because it was kind of awful): the lights never went off, I had one thin-ass blanket, and I was alone in this waxy, papery gown. CH was sounding pretty fucking good that night. Even when one girl was on suicide watch in the first hospital, all they did was only give her one blanket. She got to keep the pillow and turn out the lights.
Let's briefly go over the things that M didn't have (in comparison to CH, specifically): friendly staff, THERAPY, outside rec, things to occupy our time, sleeping aids, books, and controlled calls. I say this last one specifically because it is so vital to patient's privacy. At CH, all calls went through the nurse station and there was a pin number they had to know to be able to talk to you. At M? The patient phone was supposed to be picked up and handed off by the patients. That means, if you don't want someone knowing that you're there or you're there to get away from them, they can easily find out where you are. Someone could just call and be like, "Hey, is [insert your name here] there?" And then it's handed off to you and boom, your ex or employer or whoever knows where you are and can come visit. Not cool, Jimmy-Steve - er, Memorial Hospital. (Sorry, for some reason I was compelled to make a Shameless reference. Oh well.)
The other important component to consider is the lack of therapy. At M, we had no helpful therapy. We had "rec therapy" that consisted of bowling with a foam ball, playing a life skills board game, visits from therapy animals (one visit that I slept through the morning after the suicide room and I was pissed), and us getting to play music videos via Youtube. That's it. That's all the "therapy" we had. They just stuck us on meds and let us drift around and sleep and watch TV. I don't think we watched anything but Friends and the Hallmark channel (because this was a couple weeks before Christmas). I didn't feel much better when I left.
So! If this seems like an easy depiction of being hospitalized (sans the place they were initially admitted because that shit was scary), that's because it is. I really hope that people don't think that I'm glorifying mental illness or hospitalization in any way! My first go around was just pure luck. I had no idea how good I had it, and I guess that's why I felt like sharing the above. I don't want anyone to think that I am saying, "Lol, this shit is easy and you can meet your signif there, lolololol" because I'm not. I also plan on showing how incredibly destructive relationships/friendships from the hospital can be, so be on the lookout for that.
Wow! Sorry about all that! All of this is over 900 words before the fic has even started! I didn't mean to take up so much space talking about my fucked up experiences, and yet I have. If you skipped this, I don't blame you. Okay, now for the actual story I'm writing, hah. Enjoy and stay safe until next week!
When Connor left, Evan sat at the table picking at his food. Although he had been able to shove the disgusting chicken from the night before down his throat in an almost robotic fashion, he couldn't do that with this food. Even though there was nothing visually wrong with it, the taste was just off and he pushed it away.
Gripping the sides of the tray tightly, he stood and started take it up to the silver box. He only stopped at the sound of his own name.
"Evan!" One of the nurses yelled. He jumped so badly that food almost went everywhere. "Bring your tray over here first."
On shaking legs, the blond did what he was told and wobbled towards the semi-circular desk. Obediently, the tray of barely touched food was placed on the desk. While the nurse scrutinized how much he had eaten, Evan took the time to turn in his silverware. Connor was right; why have actual silverware when they weren't even allowed pencils?
The nurse scribbled something down in her notes and frowned. "Sweetheart, don't you want to eat just a little bit more? You only ate maybe ten percent of your food."
Evan shook his head, bit his lip, and then looked at his feet. "I-I don't want to. But, um, th-th-thanks for c-caring enough to a-ask."
With that, he picked up the tray, placed it with the other dirty ones, and turned to walk away. He only paused when he heard screaming. Margot was at the tray box again, trying to take food. A nurse, the nice one, was trying to coax her away.
"Come on, Margot," Nurse Sarah murmured in a gentle voice. She had been acting kind of annoyed and exhausted by the much larger woman prior to this, but now she seemed cheerful and excited. She reminded Evan of a dog owner who was trying to call their dog back from somewhere dangerous. "Let's go into the library or go and color, okay?"
Margot didn't look like she trusted Nurse Sarah very much, and Evan didn't quite blame her. He wasn't the most observant person sometimes, but even he could see that the blonde's sudden interest in the other had nothing to do with an attempt at bonding.
The older woman looked at the tray, looked back at the nurse, and then stuffed as much food she could in her hands and ran into the media room. She tried her best to shut the sliding doors behind her, but that seemed to prove more difficult than anticipated. She gave up and sat in one of the chairs to the side.
Nurse Sarah was now running across the day room, calling, "Margot, don't eat that! Don't you dare eat that! That has been on other people's trays and you don't know if they've been sick or did something gross with that food! You can't eat that!"
By the time she got to the doors and slid them back open with a loud crack, Margot was already shoving a handful of mashed potatoes into her mouth. She looked smug, like a defiant child. Nurse Sarah groaned softly, rubbing her forehead for a moment before going for the roll in the patient's hand.
When the roll was reached for, Margot recoiled quickly, rearing her head back and spitting some of the mashed potatoes at the blonde. Startled, the medical professional took several steps back before looking at the clumps on her shirt. By the time that she looked back up at the older woman, the brunette had shoved the roll into her mouth, too.
Nurse Sarah stood there for a long moment. She looked like she wanted to cry but couldn't. Finally, she turned back to Margot, looked at the nurses' station, and walked away.
Evan watched, frozen by the door to go out into the garden. It seemed like nurses were bustling around, trying to get the day on as usual. They were probably trying to keep Margot from feeling as if she had won and was getting attention for it.
Suddenly, Kev - the nurse from the night before - strode over, smiling tightly. He clearly wasn't upset at him, but Evan felt nervous anyway. "Hey, bud. Did you want to go outside or something?"
"I want to go outside!" Margot yelled and Kev glanced over at her. He gave a small shake of his head and turned back to the patient at hand.
He must have seen the anxiety in Evan's eyes at the prospect of being caught outside with Margot - it had already happened once before, and he wasn't keen on it happening again - and the older man whispered. "Don't worry. She won't bother you, she probably needs to go talk to Doctor Goodman soon, anyway. She's not a bad person, she just really needs to learn boundaries and get some more help. Somtimes, she can get a little loud and can sometimes corner quiet patients like you without even knowing that she's doing it."
Evan nodded slowly. He supposed that made sense. "Oh. Um, t-thank you," he said quietly.
When the nurse opened the door for him, the blond took with him Connor's drawing and one of the books that he had picked out previously. It felt incredible to step out into the warm fall breeze. It was only the beginning of October and the weather was perfect. The trees were beginning to turn and all of this made Evan kind of happy in a way he could not quite describe. The smell of fresh air washed over him and he felt a little more human.
Maybe that was what the happiness was: natural reminding him that he was not just another body suffering in there. That feeling was fantastic.
Taking a seat on a bench, Evan studied the garden. It was approximately thirty square feet, surrounded on three sides by the building. On the other side was a tall fence. It was at the edge of a hill and was looking down on another wing of the hospital. Metal picnic tables lined the edges of the tall, metal monstrosity and there were more benches scattered around the grassy space. In the middle of garden were huge flower boxes filled with chrysanthemums and tomatoes and some other plants that Evan couldn't name right off the bat.
Taking the picture, he stuck it in the back of the book very carefully and started reading. At some point, Evan must have fallen asleep because when his eyes opened again the door had just slammed shut.
Connor rounded the corner, squatting a little in front of Evan. He didn't exactly look happy or well-rested, but something about him did seem a bit better. Raising one eyebrow, he deadpanned, "So, tree boy. Are you going to tell me about those over there?"