A Place Deep Within
Fifteenth Chapter - Behind the glass door
November 5 - morning
The breakfast tastes nothing, but I force myself to eat, standing by the counter. I'm too restless to sit down. Darry slowly sips his coffee and I shot him an annoyed glare.
"Darry, come on," I say, swallowing my last bite.
"I haven't finished this yet," he says, eyeing me from above the cup. He looks like he haven't slept at all.
"I don't care." I grab the keys, jingling them in front of his face. "Let's go."
He looks at the clock, sighs and puts the coffee down. I know he needs the bitter drink to not be grumpy all morning, but I need Ponyboy. What's most important is easy to tell. So he follows me out, but when the front door slams behind us, he takes the keys from me.
"I'll drive."
I sit in the passenger seat, a cigarette clamped between my fingers, but I forget it until the ember burn me. I curse, throwing the butt out the window. I'm scared. I don't know what to expect, what kid brother we will bring home again. If he's fine, or the same, or worse. I glance at Darry. His stiff form, his clenched jaw line, tells me he feels the same. We have done what we had to do, what we could do, and now we're driving to the answer if it worked. Maybe we, Darry, did the wrong decision. I hope not. I can't imagine my feelings if something has happened to Pony because of this. I'm afraid of who I will blame, I don't want to destroy our family.
I want to be there but we reach the parking lot all too soon. I haven't sorted my thoughts yet when I stare at the large building through the windscreen. Darry pats my shoulder before he opens his door. We leave the car in silence, heading for the hospital. It's not the first time we walks through this entrance, but it's the first time we do it with hesitation.
XXX
Fourteen years ago - summer
Dad is happy. My small legs try to catch up with his long legs, but that's impossible.
"Daaad!" I whine, and he turns around, picks me up.
"Come on, Pepsi," he says. "Don't you wanna meet your new brother?"
I think for a while, then I nod, and a smile is spread in Dad's face. He takes Darry's hand with his free, and then we walks further in at the hospital. I wonder if Mom is sick. For me, only sick people lays in a hospital, but Dad tells me that she's not, she just needed the doctor's help to deliver the baby. I wonder how the baby will come out from Mom's belly.
"Well," Dad says. "I tell ya when you gets older."
"I wanna know too," Darry says, and Dad seems relieved when we reach a pair of doors.
"Here it is," he says and before I know it, we are in Mom's room. She holds a bundle in her arms, and I know my life will never be the same again. Dad drops me down, and I rush.
"Can I see him?" Both Darry and I crawls up in the bed. I wrinkle my nose when I see the small, red, face.
"He looks funny" I say. "Why is he ugly?" The words earns me a smack from Darry, but Mom only laughs.
"He's a newborn, Soda. Most newborns are a bit red and wrinkled. He'll change." Then she yawns, and Darry pats her.
"You can sleep, Mom. Me and Soda will take care of the baby."
"Yeah," I breathe, feeling big. "Always, Mom!"
XXX
November 5 - morning
I stare at the map on the wall, trying to figure out which ward Pony belongs to, when Darry puts a hand on my shoulder and steers me against the elevators. He push one of the buttons inside, and I lean against the mirror, staring as the numbers counts up. We step out at the fifth floor, and I turn to Darry, feeling betrayed.
"You never said-"
"Soda," Darry interrupts. "It ain't a fever he got. What did you expect?"
I stop in my steps. I don't know. I honestly never thought about it. I guess I expected the same place as last time, when we brought him here after his collapse. Not this. Darry opens the door and disappears into the waiting room, while the sign on the wall still catch my eyes, still mocking me. Telling me my brother is crazy. Otherwise, he hadn't been here. Not in this ward. The glass door closes in front of me, and I wake up at the sound. I force myself to start walking again, to push at the door to follow my brother. He stands in front of a reception, talking to a nurse, at least, I think she is. But she wears regular clothes. When I approach I hear her tell Darry to sit down and wait, she'll call the doctor, and we do. The chairs are uncomfortable, but the room is cozy somehow. It doesn't look like it belongs to a hospital. The walls has a light green color, and plastic potted plants stands everywhere. The paintings on the walls is obviously made by children and young teenagers, and it hit me that they must be the patients here. Pony loves to paint, but I can't see his name on any of them. A shelf holds a lot of bright colorful toys and picture books. It's kind of depressing. Kids shouldn't be mentally ill.
I hear someone unlock the door next to the reception, and it swing open. A man dressed in jeans and a white coat steps in, eyeing Darry, and he rise. I follow him.
"Mr. Curtis," the man says and they shake hands, then looks at me.
"This is my other brother, Sodapop," Darry says. "Soda, this is Dr. Nelson."
"Hi," I mumble, takes his hand in mine for a short moment, wondering where Dr. Wilkins is. I don't know why, but I don't trust this man. No one says anything more, instead we walk through the door and along a corridor with more than a dozen doors. I look at them while we pass them, wondering if Pony is behind one of them. If Darry hadn't held me under my arm, I'm sure I had rushed ahead, opened them up one by one to find him, and I bet Darry knows this. His grip tightens around my arm.
The office is sterile. White floor, white walls, white ceiling, dark brown furnitures. Impersonal. I can't see any pictures, or photos. Dr. Nelson gestures at a chair in front of his desk and Darry sits down. I find another one by the wall and drags it beside Darry's, and when I sit down, the doctor leans back in his own chair at the other side of the desk. His elbows rests at the chair's arms, his fingertips touch each other. He opens his mouth, but I'm faster.
"Where's Pony? How is he?"
"Soda," Darry says tiredly. But he eyes the doctor, waiting for him to answer.
"Yes, Ponyboy Curtis," Dr. Nelson says, tapping a bunch of papers in front of him, then open them up like a book. "You brought him here at... October 31," he reads. "Suffered from shock and a concussion about a month and a half ago, lost two friends at the same time and later, acted like they was alive...hm."
"Yes," Darry says. "He thought he saw...them. Johnny, at least. His best friend."
"Hm." We wait impatiently some quiet minutes while he continue to flip through the journal. He pulls out a picture. "We took an x-ray of his head. It shows he had a very small skull fracture, apparently emerged from the trauma caused to his temple. He was very lucky it didn't do any actual damage. We couldn't see any sign of a bleeding."
It feels like a kick in the stomach. Darry slowly shakes his head. He puts his fingers on the picture, pulling it towards him. "What are you saying? "Why didn't they check this out when we were here after he got the concussion?" he accuses.
"I can't answer to that. But it's healed. Nothing to worry about. The mental health on the other hand-"
"But he's better now, right?" I hurry to say, needing to hear it. "I mean, he's been here for five fucki... five days."
Dr. Nelson smiles dryly and I want to punch him.
"Well, it's not that easy, son. We have treaten him, but of course he needs to continue his rehabilitation and medication to-"
"Wait," Darry interrupts, stops staring at the picture. "What did you say? Medication? I said when I left him I didn't want him to be drugged!"
I feel myself go cold. The man behind the desk think's he's better than us when he continue tapping his papers, the smile still taped on his face. "I wouldn't call it drugged, Mr. Curtis. You obviously don't understand your brother's condition. We believe that what happened to him was too much for him to handle, so he slipped into a, what we can call acute psychosis, or maybe brief reactive psychosis, were he created his own little world to live in and interact with this Johnny. Fortunately he seems to spontaneously recover from it, but he also got other issues that we've noticed. Now when he's aware of the deaths of his friends, he has got a depression, is very anxious and suffers from insomnia."
I swallow, feeling ill, remembering the book in the library. Maybe I held the answer in my hand back then, but was too afraid to face it. I look at Darry. He sits stiff in his chair, frowning at the words.
"What medication have you been given him?" he growls.
Dr. Nelson sounds almost bored. "As long a he has been here, he barely talks, sleeps or eats." He flips through his papers again, I hate those papers, while Darry and I stare at each other. I can't believe this. This, the hospital visit, was supposed to help him, but it feels like the opposit. How could Darry left him here! My brother shifts, suddenly making his face show no emotions at all when he turns forward again. I know that takes effort. I'm not able to do that. I know my dislike shines through.
"We're giving him Diazepam for his anxiety, and Nitrazepam for the insomnia," he continues.
The names tells me nothing, but I still glare at him. I can see Darry's opening and clenching his fists in his knee.
"What else?" His voice is harsh, accusing. "What else have you done for him?"
Dr. Nelson takes of his glasses, obviously affected by our hostility. "He has been in therapy, of course. A collegue of mine, Dr. Lee has taken care of his counseling. You may speak to her later if you want."
"Yeah, I do," Darry says.
XXX
November 5 - morning
We have still not seeing Pony, despite of being here for almost an hour. My head is spinning, I don't understand half of what Dr. Nelson tells us, but Darry nods and hums at his words. He seems more relaxed now, and I wonder what the doctor told him to get him there. I'm sure not calm. I stand by the window while the two of them talks, staring out over the street outside, when a sudden knock on the door silence the room. A woman sticks in her head.
"I'm Dr. Lee," she presents herself. "I have had therapy sessions with Ponyboy during his stay here."
She takes my seat and talks about Pony. I like her more than Dr. Nelson. She doesn't need any written words to remember my brother. She talks about him like he's a person, not only a patient.
"...the dreams he has is from his feeling of guilt. He-"
"It wasn't his fault," I interrupt, folding my arms. Just because she's better than the other, she can't say things like that. But she just smiles at me.
"Oh, I didn't mean it like that. Of course it wasn't his fault what happened to his friends. But it's a very normal feeling in this circumstances. As far as I know, he was in the fire with his friend and survived, and many survivors feels that way towards them who didn't make it. In Ponyboy's case these feelings turned into nightmares."
I blink. It's a relieve to hear that at least something in all this is normal.
She keeps talking. Darry's still listening. I look out through the window, but only fragments of words reach me even when I'm trying to pay attention. I don't want to be here anymore, I just want to grab Pony and leave.
"He has, however, not talked at all about the hallucinations of his friend, so I can't tell you if he still has them, but I doubt it. He seems a bit embarassed when I mention it, and every sign from any psychosis is lesser day by day. Apparently he was spontaneously recovering from it even before you took him here. When he finally understood that his friends was dead it was only a matter of time, but I still recommend that he will stay here so we can help him with his depression and the sorrow progress, and make sure the psychosis won't return. I'm also a bit worried about the insomnia, I want him to sleep better before I let him go. About the eating-"
"No!" I turn around, glaring at her. "He wasn't depressed until we left him here! We're takin' him home. He can't sleep here because... because he just can't." I can't tell strangers that we use to share a bed. They wouldn't understand. "He doesn't like hospitals and I think most people can't sleep in a hospital. You can't make that to one of his problems!"
"Soda," Darry begins, and I turn to him, determined.
"I'm takin' him home, Darry! I mean it. Come on, you know we can take care of him better than them!"
Dr. Lee seems disappointed. "I don't think that's a good idea," she says. "He's still only in the beginning of his treatment, and I highly doubt that you-"
"Darry," I say, ignoring her and her dismissive tone. "If he's depressed it's only 'cause he's here, you know that!" Please say that you agree.
Darry finally nods, and I sunk back against the window. Dr. Lee sighs and I can tell Dr. Nelson doesn't approve either, but what can they do? Darry is Pony's guardian.
"All right. I will give you prescriptions of his medicines, and I hope you'll continue the treatment at home. I also recommend further therapy," Dr. Nelson says irritated.
"He's welcome to me once a week. I'm sure I can press him in into my schedule," Dr. Lee adds, her face sour now. "I'll give you my phone number. Please call me."
"I'll get Pony. Where is he?" I head to the door, eager to finally meet him.
"That would be room 502. But you need to get a nurse."
My eyes narrows suspiciously. "Why?"
"The door is locked, of course."
This will be a long A/N but please take your time and read it.
First of all, I want to say that I DO NOT think that people with mental illnesses are crazy, and I see nothing wrong with taking medication when it's necessary. I only write Soda's thoughts (and Darry's worries) and he/they are just devastated.
Second, you are amazing! I love to write, and that's of course the reason I do it, but to get this response makes me so happy and love to write and really put effort in it even more. So thank you for reading, reviewing and/or putting this story in your favorites. Thank you so much! It means a lot to me.
Third, even since I did a few hours of research for this chapter, I'm not a doctor. Some things I may have misunderstood, and some things I needed to change just to fit in the story, but I've really tried to make this as close to reality as possible. (I still don't know much about psychiatric wards in the sixties so I made all that up)
Short about psychosis
Stress is known to contribute to and trigger psychotic states. A history of psychologically traumatic events, and the recent experience of a stressful event, can both contribute to the development of psychosis. Short-lived psychosis triggered by stress is known as brief reactive psychosis, and patients may spontaneously recover normal functioning within two weeks.
Psychosis is given to the more severe forms of psychiatric disorder, during which hallucinations and delusions and impaired insight may occur
Hallucinations (...) to experiences such as seeing and interacting with fully formed animals and people, hearing voices,and having complex tactile sensations.
The medication (both are benzodiazepines) actually existed at the time. Diazepam came in 1963 (This story takes place in 1966 like the book, Pony was born 22 july 1952) and was also called valium. I chosed to use this in the story, even if it shouldn't be taken by kids and by people with psychosis. This is fanfiction and, the medicin was new. Maybe they didn't knew all things about it back then.
Nitrazepam (or mogadon or a lot of different names, since I don't know which is most common or was used in the sixties I just picked one) was/is used to treat short-term sleeping problems (insomnia) namely difficulty falling asleep, frequent awakening, early awakenings, or a combination of each. Side effects can be drowsiness, dizziness, confusion etc. Even here, when I read about it, it shouldn't been given to children or people with depression, but... yeah, fanfic and the sixties.
Most facts are from Wikipedia and other sites I have forgot, and I'm sorry for all mistakes or errors. (If you know things about this and wants to correct me, please do) Like I said, I'm not a doctor, and I HOPE this chapter came out realistic even after I changed some stuff from the reality.