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Salt was always in short supply in the psych ward dining room. Daily the salt shakers had to be refilled. It wasn't until one of the cleaning staff happened to to overhear one of the dining staff complining to the duty nurse. "I don't know about your patients, but theyhave beenconsuming an awful lot of salt in the last month. I have to fill the shakers twice a day."
"I know where all the salt is going, I have to clean it up every morning," the cleaning lady said to the startled nurse and dining room worker. "The patient in room 494 scatters it in his room each night."
The nurse talked to the patient's doctor, who in turn talked to the patient, who stared, blinked, and remained silent. 'afraid, salt is protection, fear, has to be done to be safe, be afraid of the dark'
"Sam, what are you doing with all that salt? Why are you putting it in your room at night?" Dr. Coizer asked in vain. The more he asked the more closed off his patient became. After seven weeks he still could not convince his patient it was okay to speak. 'talk bad, he said shut up, hurt to talk, pain'
With his injuries healed, bruises faded, the female staff had found Sam to be most handsome with a cute smile, when he would let anyone look at him for any length of time. 'don't look, not here, hide' He still got nervous with more than a few moments of attention and could not let anyone get within arms' length, closer but no touching. 'what can you see, who do you see, do you see me, i can't see me' The police had taken pictures and posted flyers now that you could see what the man looked like, but that had proven fruitless.
The patient looked around anxiously, feeling trapped. He understood the words, the meanings, but had no idea how to respond. 'salt makes safe' his need displayed on his face but not the explaination. 'asking and asking, can't say, secret, can not tell, rule.' Odd thoughts would leap into his brain, snippets of information, vague thoughts and memories. He could not tell his doctor why even if he wanted to, it was forbidden. Something was out there and he needed to be protected.
It had beenfound that the Latin phrases he would call out during his nightmares were to cast out demons or spirits. His doctor had questioned him, thier sessions usually ended with the doctor frustrated, Sam angry, scared, and rushing out of the room. 'leave me alone, can't tell you, secret, no one is to know, except they know, they could help, who are they?' He would be found an hour or so later in the chapel sitting, rocking, and staring. 'who are you? where are you? who am i?' No one noticed that the holy water was dwindling as well.
Dr. Coizer knew that his patient could write, the nurses and cleaning staff had found symbols and Latin phrases scrawled about his room. Also, similar symbols were found drawn on the walls and doorways of the floor. The doctor tried to get Sam to write other things, English would be nice, but to no avail. 'have to be protected, be afaid of the dark'
One day when Dr. Coizer found his patient looking out the window of the dayroom, his favourite passtime, he was not prepared for the very outward display of emotions. "What is is Sam? What do you see?" looking out trying to determine what Sam was so excited about. Pointing at a black older model car in the back carpark, in a gruff but excited tone he said, "Sam!" It was as if the fog had been lifted and the world had finally come back into focus. Longing and need played across his patient's face, Dr. Coizer could not belive that he just spoke. Joy also rolled off the man as he rushed out the doorway, his doctor following close behind, confused but hopeful.
'it's sam, i know sam, i am not sam, sam don't leave me'
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