The Hospital

Dawn had been sleeping for a while. It was almost midday, probably around 1, when she woke up. Her room was a mess; oil paint tubes lying about hoodies and notebooks laid strewn, their leaves crumpled, overtop a pile of hairbrushes. Empty canvases stacked on makeup brushes, trash, trash everywhere and on everything, small plastic baggies littered over mountains of dirty clothes. The only thing she kept clean was her desk; it was neat and tidy, her laptop went there, her (usable) notebooks went here, her water bottle on one side, her pens on the other. Her feet always swept through the field of unfortunate articles in the morning. 

            Today was “move-out” day; it was supposed to be last night but last night she was with her friends, and she had that guy over for a few hours, and they had a bit to drink and, well, nothing really got done. She had, somehow, convinced her parents to hold off on picking her up, saying she was “super tired”, working hard to finish finals, and didn’t have the energy.

            She rolled over in her bed, in the trash from yesterday’s munchies. She realized she hadn’t changed in two days, and hadn't taken a shower in 3. She probably didn’t smell great, but, looking at the state of the place, it’s not like anyone who saw her would care. Some of the places guys had taken her back too--well, let’s just say the men she went with weren’t exactly clean freaks.

            She trudged through the garbage and went out the door of her room. Her other roommates had moved out already. They were touchier about keeping clean (she’d lied on the housing application), and the common area was pristine. She took off her clothes and threw them somewhere before getting in the shower.

            She took a long shower. She liked to take long showers, and not only because she maintained a regular habit in it, but the sensual enjoyment of the hot water running along her back, the calm and serenity, the soothing sounds of the streams as they splashed and ran down the drain, put her in a tranquil state of mind. She was also hungover. 

            It was probably an hour or two, between showering, shitting, and masturbating. She towelled off, grabbed some essentials out of her room. She stuffed the clothes in a suitcase, the art supplies and the art in another, her laptop and books in her backpack, and the rest was consigned to oblivion.

            It was around 3pm, her parents were supposed to be there…

 

            Dawn was supposed to be going out with a guy that night, well, that afternoon. They’d met at the library, they’d been texting for a few weeks. There were a couple times when she texted him and mentioned how she was “so bored”, and he replied by saying that he was “bored too ;)”, and then she had to explain that she was actually bored. Well, it was one of the quickest “dates” she’d ever been on. When she was 17, with her first boyfriend, it was months before they kissed, and even then, she only gave him a handy under the bleachers after. And by a handy, she tugged him for five minutes and he got soft, so he started doing it himself but he obviously felt anxious, after all, it was his first time too, so it took him a while to finish. They held hands as he came on the grass. 

About half a mile down a nature trail, he had her pinned against a tree just over a knoll. They were kissing passionately, he was working her breasts under her shirt, pinching her nipples, he slid his other hand under her pants and squeezed her ass. She took her own hand and dipped it under his belt and felt him up. He swatted her hand away.

“Wait.” he said, moving his head onto her shoulder. She kissed him on the neck, and then down his chest, and began sucking his nipple, playing with it between her teeth, and she tried again and this time he relented. She felt it, hard, heavy, wet on the tip. She unzipped his pants and squatted.

“Maybe we should j-just g-go back to my place.” He asked, looking over his shoulder and behind him, listening for anyone nearby. But Dawn didn’t seem to hear, and she kept sucking away. 

And it didn’t take a remarkable amount of effort on her part. He started moaning louder, and louder, and before he finished she took it out and let it shoot on her face and her hoodie. He walked a few steps away and peed, then zipped himself up.

“Here, maybe we should...maybe we should go back to my place…” he started. “I mean,” Dawn said, “I like my place better. It would be easier for me.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, looking away, “alright.”

 

Dawn went out for a walk, she figured her parents would call when they were close by. She ran into that guy from the night before, he was walking around campus too, enjoying the fresh, late spring air. It was deserted, quiet. Dawn waved as he walked by, he waved back. She continued down the way to the nature trail. It was quiet, serene. She liked being out in nature, she was the one who suggested they go out there. And she kind of liked the idea that, one day, a guy she was out with would take her by the arm and drag her off the trail and have their way with her. Maybe even two guys, maybe a whole group of guys, maybe a group of guys she was friends with, had known a while, a group of guys she had always been the girl they could “bro” out with. And then one day, when she was alone with them, one of them would come up and start choking her, looking into her eyes, then spit in her mouth and flip her over and call her a dirty bitch and use her roughly. And then another would take out his dick and shove it in her mouth, and then someone would call her a cunt and put it in her ass. Cunt. She laughed to herself, there was a boy she talked to once a while ago, who texted and called her a lot, who asked if he could call her that, and she laughed and said “sure mate”. But it satisfied him, in some way, and he would call her all sorts of terrible things, he called her a dumb bitch, he called a whore, he called her a slut. They would talk so much, she remembered, so much they would talk and she would send him nudes occasionally, and he would ask her to tell him stories about times she got fucked by other guys. And they’d get into a big fight every week and he would always say that she was treating him like her “boyfriend” and then the next day they’d get drunk and chat on the phone for hours and he would call her a bitch and a whore and a slut and laugh hoarsley. He would get so angry, especially, about the other guys she saw, even though he definitely got off on it, but one time he told her, “calling yourself a dumb bitch doesn’t mean you’re not a dumb bitch.” They got over it but a week or so later they stopped talking.

There were a couple people up ahead, holding hands.

 

It was early evening when Dawn meandered back to her dorm. She was definitely the last one in the building, and had to be out of there that night. She called her parents. No answer. She called her brother. No answer. She called her grandparents.

“Oh sweety, how are you?” Her grandmother answered.

“I’m good. I’m doing great.” She said. “Oh, isn’t that something...isn’t that nice...Al! Al! Aalllll! It’s your granddaughter!” She heard some shuffling on the phone. “Dawn, Dawn it's so great to hear your voice. How is everything, how is school?” Her grandfather asked. 

“School’s good, doing well. Listen, do you know where Mom and Dad are? I haven’t heard from them.” “You’re parents...where was it again, Suzy?” She said something, “Oh, oh that’s right, I thought it was Mykonos.” “Wait, Mykonos?” Dawn asked, her heart dropping. “No, no they’re in Crete right now. The flight left last night...they told me you couldn’t make it, something about a final?”

Oh shit, Dawn thought to herself, shit shit shit. “Oh yeah, yeah I couldn’t call them.” “They’re using Whatsapp. Here I’ll text you their contact info.” She heard a notification. “I guess I should call...” She said.

“Good morning princess!” Her Dad answered. “Or I guess it’s nighttime for you? Anyway what’s up? I know you’re still so busy, I’m really sorry you couldn’t make it. We were going to call when we landed but you know it was late..or early? I’m not sure...” “No, it's fine,” She said, “How is it?” “Beautiful, beautiful, you know your mother and I, we haven’t been here since your brother was...well, that’s a story for another time. He’s at the beach with Mom.” “What about you?” Dawn asked. “Sweetie, I’m working! Your mother says now that I work from home, we can ‘travel whenever.’ She doesn’t seem to realize I got vacation days too…Oh she wanted to get out so badly when they reopened, she wanted to travel and I couldn’t say no. I would say you should be here, but you’re probably just as busy as me.”

“Yeah,” she said, “yeah. Still crunching.” “I can’t believe you have three finals in one day!” “I know, ridiculous…”

“Oh oh, honey, your mother is calling. I’ll talk to you later, love you!” “Love you too, Dad.” He hung up.

“Oh lol you’re still on campus?” She texted the guy, and put her phone down. It chimed as she was getting up.

“Nah, I left like right after I saw you lol” A few seconds later: “we can do a zoom call or smthing if u want”

“nah its cool” she texted back. He answered with a thumbs up emoji.

Dawn lied back on the couch.

 

She woke up with a start. Someone was knocking loudly on her door. She stared intently at it, paralyzed, and heard some keys jangling then the lock click. Someone in a Reslife uniform peaked in, saw her staring, apologized, then closed and re-locked the door. She rolled over and fell back asleep.

 

She felt terribly drowsy when she woke up again. She checked her phone, it was 1am. And she had a text notification from the guy. She unlocked her phone and was greeted with a dick pic followed by “u up.” Poor boy, she thought to herself. She texted what was probably a very garbled message about how she wasn’t looking for anything serious right now, something along those lines. She also sent him a nude since it looked like he needed it.

There was nothing more unsettling than an emptied campus. People weren’t meant to live alone, be alone. Dawn always got paranoid in empty rooms, empty places, always thinking something was waiting to come out. Something might get her. She rushed to turn on the lights, and then check all the hiding places. In the cabinets, in the other rooms, in the dressers in the rooms, the closets, behind the shower curtain, in the fridge. Being absolutely sure there was nothing and no one there, she sighed, relieved, and, checking the lock on the door, sat back down and went on her phone. There was another text notification. Multiple.

“Rlly hot” with a smiley face. Then another, “I mean yeah we’re just friends lol.” And then another, “But I mean, I did really like talking with you...idk.”

“Like, ik ur not looking for anything serious,” he continued, “but even if we are just friends like I still kinda wanna talk to you. If thats cool. Like as friend friends, u kno?”

She called him and he immediately picked up. “Hey.” He said, timid, swallowing involuntarily.

“Hi,” she said, “so...I don’t think it came across over text, but I don’t want to date or have sex again or anything.” “Oh,” he said, “oh.” “Yeah, I used to ghost but then guys got aggressive and weird so I’m just straightforward now.” “Yeah.” He said.

He tried to keep the conversation going but she would only reply to him with “uh-huh” and yeah, eventually he realized what was up and decided to say goodnight and she said goodnight and he hung up.

She finished off a bottle of wine that was sitting in the fridge and browsed Instagram memes until she passed out a few hours later.

 

The next few days blended into each other. She did nothing but sit around and eat, drink, smoke, watch youtube videos or check social media. She ate a ton, there was a reason she’d gained 60 pounds over the pandemic, and it was really scary at first until she realized it made very little difference to most guys. She was primed to gain 60 more. She dedicated almost her entire day to eating, drinking, and shitting, passing out intermittently, waking up at strange times, having an awful headache, and curing it with more booze. It would’ve continued that way all week, but then there was a loud knock on her door; a knock she barely registered, and then she vaguely remembered a couple guys, one of them looked like a police officer, trying to talk to her about something, and then she remembered being lifted off the couch (and she remembers this next part very well), being handcuffed, then waking up in a cell with her head pounding.

A loud groan issued from the cell, and an officer yelled over to “keep it down”. Dawn went back to sleep.

There was snapping, someone kept saying, hey, hey wake up; wake up.

“Wake up!” An officer yelled, and Dawn's eyes shot open. She groaned and lifted her torso off the bench. Her shoulder was aching, and there was a shooting pain when she moved her head. She yawned.

“Ma’am,” she began, “ma’am we’re going to need to contact a family member. We tried reaching your emergencies but they’re not answering, do you have anyone else we could speak with?”

“My family,” Dawn groaned, “they’re in Greece, I didn’t go with them, they’re using Whatsapp. I can give that to you...Why do you need them?”

“It’s just procedure.” The officer said. “We’re going to have someone come down to talk with you.” “Talk about what?” She asked. “Well, that’s for the professionals.” And as the officer said this, Dawn looked around, she noticed her surroundings, she saw the iron bars and the police officers in uniform milling about nearby.

“But...but it’s…it’s not my fault,” she said, tearing up, “my family left and, and my family left and they didn’t tell me and they left without me…and I’m not supposed to be here, I’m not, ok, I’m not I just forgot to, I forgot to move out but I couldn’t move out because my family they, they, they...” she started choking up. “Hey, hey my colleague will be here in a minute, he’ll be here real soon you can talk to him.”

A few minutes later Eddie walked in, and he saw Dawn moaning loudly, crying convulsively, falling apart in tears, muttering and wailing about how it's not her fault, and how her family abandoned her, and how she didn’t have any real friends, and that guys didn’t really like her and only used her for sex, and that her family probably didn’t want her to come on the trip anyway because she was such a fat lazy slob and people only put up with her and they didn’t care about her at all, nobody cared about her at all. She was slobbering, snotty, tears and mucus mixed and dripped down her cheeks and lips and chin and her dirty, messy clothes absorbed it as she held herself, dearly, holding onto her body and weeping.

Eddie interviewed Dawn, she had a lot to tell him, she was not brief with any and all information pertaining to her circumstances. Dawn just seemed glad there was somebody to listen; relieved that it was all coming out. Eddie nodded, slowly, calmly; he asked her to elaborate here, asked to explain there. He was quick, he was careful, he had a checklist on a clipboard in front of him with little boxes, each box being a symptom, and each symptom had a point value and if the points added up below the threshold, they would send her home but if they went above the threshold…

“...and this guy from last night he--” she was saying, almost hurriedly. “Ok, I understand, ok, yes, yes I get it.” Eddie said, trying to stop her, but she kept talking over him. “Dawn.” He tried, “Dawn. Dawn. Dawn!” he nearly yelled. She paused.

“Ma’am, I think the best course of action right now would be if you saw a professional.” Eddie declamed from his checklist. “But, but she said you, she said you were the professional…” Dawn said, pointing to the female officer in the cell. “No, no I’m just, I’m just trained for these cases, for handling these kinds of cases, it's a program the state appropriated for a couple years back...Anyway we think that, for you, at the moment, it would be best if you talked to someone.”

“Someone? What kind of someone?” Dawn asked. “A professional,” he answered, “there’s a place, UCHC, that we can give you a ride to, they would be in a much better position to help.” “Really?” she asked, “just to talk, right, you promise that we’ll just talk.” “Yes,” he said,

“just to talk.”

“They’re not going to lock me up or anything?” Dawn asked. “I promise.” Eddie said. “They can help you.” He smiled.

“Well, I mean…” she started, but sat, thought about her next words very carefully, “I mean if, if they can help I guess, I guess…” she mulled. Eddie was sitting up now, focusing intensely on every word, holding his breath; he was bent over, staring, his arms pressed into his thighs. His partner had her notebook out already, she’d been jotting down Dawn’s testimony for over ten minutes.

“I guess I can go…” she sheepishly finished. Eddie smiled, and got up, “That’s great! Ok, ok come with me.” He said, putting his hands together. “Right now?” Dawn asked. “Yes, right now.” She got up, he led the way out the office, his partner followed her behind. They walked out of the drunk tank, past numerous desks and cubicles, out the front door of the police station. Eddie walked over to a police car outside and opened the door for her. Dawn got in. She was sitting in the back of a police car. This isn’t a good sign, Dawn thought to herself, but stayed quiet. They were driving her back to campus, it seemed.

“Hey, wait.” She suddenly spoke up. “Can we stop by my dorm first?” “We’ll just go there after.” Eddie told her. After, after...it sounded kind of strange, they were going to wait for her? Dawn dismissed the thought and watched as the quad disappeared through the window. 

They were almost to the main road when the car took a turn and they drove into a zone of campus past the lecture halls, through those empty plots and roads upon which sit nothing or nothing besides slight, unbecoming buildings that sat to solely meet the needs of running and maintaining university infrastructure. And even past that, the developed plots dropped off and there was empty, unused land, and that which was dedicated to agricultural use and horticultural study, and past that they entered a wooded area, and it grew darker there, the sun was out but it was dusky under the foliage. Dawn didn’t even know this part of campus existed, but then she remembered, from the nature trail once on a stroll, she went off the main path and wandered around in the woods for quite some time and found a road in the middle of preserved lands. Not some gravelly maintenance road (which she’d walked down plenty in search of modest adventure,) but a well-paved commercial lane. A convoy of cars drove past and she backed off. Dawn realized that was where she must be now. “Is this, is this UHBS?” She asked. “UCSA, yes.” Eddie answered.

They arrived, maybe 20 or 30 minutes deep in the woods, at what could only, and exactly, be described as a “facility”. It appeared mostly prefabricated, a series of concrete slabs, with windows (probably) interspersed between. The entrance was equally unceremonious, it would be indistinguishable from some other door out front, if there were any others. “You can get out now.” Eddie said, his partner looking on, her hands gripped to the steering wheel. Dawn exited, and walked over; before pulling the entrance, she looked back, and Eddie waved, smiling, from the passenger seat. She walked in, and the door locked behind her.

 

She entered, and heard the lock click. “Wait”, she thought, turning her head. There was a swipe access bar on the side, like other buildings at the school--she was at school, apparently. Green meant anyone with an ID could enter, Blue meant some people with an ID, and Red meant it was locked. The bar shone blue. She turned back around; there was a man standing afront of her, wearing a white lab coat. His hair was neat, he wore glasses, he smiled just the same way Eddie smiled. He had his hands together just the same way Eddie had his.

“Hello, how are you?” He asked, politely, with a slight lilt. A lilt? Does that mean he’s gay, Dawn thought, though, now that she had considered it, since the pandemic, she hand’t actually seen a lot of gay guys, she didn’t know if they still did that, because they were isolated and everything, so like...but she didn’t have a lot of gay friends, men, women, non-binary whatever it wasn’t her crowd. She actually didn’t even have a lot of girl friends, she mostly hung around guys. Straight guys, bro-types, she liked hanging out with regular straight guys so she didn’t really talk to gay guys a lot--wait, was that because she didn’t get along with her Mom, Dawn thought, that she didn’t have a lot of (really any) girlfriends? Shouldn’t I tell him, he is a professional, after all, he looks like a professional…

“I have a poor relationship with my mother!” She blurted out.

“Ok,” he replied, “we can...talk about that--would you come with me please, for an intake?” He said, leading her down a hall--in fact, the only hall. “Intake, what’s that?” She asked. “Oh,” he answered, “it’s just like, an interview we do, so we know the best services to provide.” She nodded, looking up at him, walking astride. “Sorry if what I said earlier was weird,” she rushed to explain, “it’s just because I thought that, you know, since you’re gay…”

“Here we are!” He announced, and led her into a small room labeled “INT B” on the side of the hall, then shut the door. There was a cushioned chair that folded out into a bed on one side, and he took a simple plastic chair opposite. She sat down; it was comfortable, she had to admit, it wasn’t an uncomfortable space, it was very quiet, however, silent except for the squeak of the cushions, the hum of the fluorescents, and the plastic chair shifting on the linoleum floor. He crossed his legs and looked at her, taking a clipboard off a countertop. She noted that, although it appeared bare, the room had many cabinets; aseptic otherwise aside from a small reinforced glass window looking out into the forest on the one side, and the door on the other (which itself had a tiny window, for peaking in, presumably). Dawn sat still with her hands in her lap.

“My name is Dr. Grossman, but you can call me Dave.” He said. “Oh, I’m Dawn...Dawn Everglade.” She replied, examining him. Or was he examining her?

“It’s nice to meet you, Dawn.” “You too.” She said. “So Dawn, what brought you in today?” He asked, taking a pen out of the clipboard and clicking it. He calmly gazed at her.

“Where would you like me to start?” “Wherever you like.”

“Ok,” she began, “well, I guess, my parents, they left for Greece.” “Today?” “No, a few days ago...I could tell you exactly when…” she pulled out her phone to check her call history, it had barely any battery left. “Tch tch tch,” the doctor clicked his tongue like she was a cat, wagged his finger, and leaned over to snatch the phone out of her hands, “those aren’t allowed here.” “But, I, that’s mine…” “What did I say?” “Fine.” She resigned. He sat back down and put the phone on the countertop. “So, your parents?”

“They left a few days ago, I think, it's kinda vague in my head but I think so. They were supposed to pick me up that night to go with them but they didn’t.” “And why didn’t they?” “Because I told them not to.” “And why did you tell them not to?” “Because I had a guy and some friends over.” “I see,” Doctor Grossman said, “and that’s why you’re here today?” “Yep.” 

“But you told me that was a few days ago.” The Doctor said. “Uh-huh.” She answered.

“Let me ask you a different question. How did you get here, today?” “I,” she began, “I got a ride...from someone.” “From who?” He inquired.

“A friend.” “Was this one of the friends you hung out with a few days ago?” “Mhm.”

“I see.” Said the Doctor. “You know, we got a call before you arrived. That’s why I was waiting for you, at the entrance.” He said, with a gesture. “Oh.” She said. “Uh huh. So tell me, how did you get here today?” She paused. 

“I was, I was told that, that this place, you guys, could help, so, so I came here, with them. So I’m here.” “And you decided to come here.” “That’s right.” “Of your own volition.” “I guess.” “Do you guess or are you sure?” He asked, sternly. 

“I’m sure.”

“Good!” he jotted something down on the clipboard. “I’ll be leaving now, a nurse will come to finish up the intake.” And he left, taking her phone, the door locking on his way out.

That was it? She thought to herself. There must be more to an interview than that, we barely talked...I guess he has other people to see? And he took my phone...

Dawn sat for what seemed like forever in the little room; the afternoon light was slowly fading into early evening, and the forest was so dense from out the window, it didn’t look like there was anything for miles. Miles, they must’ve driven more than 10, maybe even 15 or 20 off the main campus. She got up and paced the room. 

“They’re not going to...no, no they just need more information. This isn’t that kind of place...not that I’ve ever been to that kind of place, I’m not crazy...No this is just a bigger, bigger facility, they have the, the ability, I guess, to take more difficult cases. Like a therapist couldn’t deal with everything, not one therapist, maybe, I guess, like at a hospital you have a lot of doctors not that this is a hospital…” Dawn thought to herself, aloud. She tried opening a cabinet but it was locked--she tried the one next to it, which was also locked. Then the one next to that, then the one adjacent, and soon enough she was entirely preoccupied with testing every cabinet in the room until finally a small one in the corner opened up, but it was empty.

Now Dawn had to pee and so she sat down in the chair and fidgeted, and her thoughts, her entire being became possessed by the urge and she fidgeted for about five minutes, ten minutes…

The Nurse knocked before entering. It smelled like urine and Dawn was crying again, though this time softly, distressed, like a child who didn’t want to be there and wanted to go home. In fact Dawn was whispering those words to herself and rocking, “I wanna go home, I wanna go hooome, I wanna go home…” and didn’t hear the nurse come in. She cleared her throat. Dawn looked over at her and sniffed.

“Oh...hi.” She said. The nurse looked her over, holding her own clipboard.

“Do you want me to get you some new clothes?” The Nurse asked. Dawn nodded. “Here come with me.” 

“Ok.” Dawn said.

She led her further down the hall and they turned a corner where a small bank of elevators stood. Dawn peered the other way but it looked no different from the hall she came from, and continued for an indeterminable length, with doors on either side. They went up to a floor labeled “GL” (none of the floors had numbers), and came out to an antechamber. The Nurse swiped her ID and a door--that looked no different from the one on the room below--opened. They walked in; the door, like the rest, locked behind them, the swipe access bar flashing green and then back to blue when it relocked. She led her to a corridor--that’s the only way to describe it, the area was shaped like an L, with an open space in the corner (where they’d arrived), and rooms along each end. There were a few tables with chairs and a couch in front of a TV. Nearby was a small room with a piano and some basic art-supplies (crayons and such). Everything was impeccably clean, and beige, generally, beige--though the chairs were made of colorful plastics. It was so bare, very much like the interview room; though, it looked like it was usually busy.

The Nurse disappeared for a moment and came back with some hospital garments--scrubs--and ushered Dawn to a bathroom to get changed. When she came back out, the Nurse took her clothes in a plastic bag which she tied up. “It’ll go with the rest of your things” she said, and led Dawn into a small room.

The room was sparse, it had 3 large (reinforced) windows on one side and a bunch of chairs arranged in a circle around the perimeter. The Nurse sat down in one corner and patted on the seat catercorner for Dawn, who sat down. There was another clipboard already sitting in the chair next to the Nurse. “So, tell me what’s going on?” She asked.

“Well, I wasn’t feeling great, so they told me I should come here.” Dawn replied.

“Ok,” the Nurse said, “so you’re saying you chose to come here?”

“I guess, yeah…” Dawn said. “That’s great,” the Nurse said, “here.” And she handed Dawn a clipboard and a short, stubby pencil with a barely sharpened tip. “Don’t you want to know about things like, how I got here, what my issues are?” Dawn asked. “Sure, you can tell me anything.”

“Well,” Dawn began, setting the clipboard on her lap, “yeah, the Doctor said I could talk about my relationship with my Mom but then we didn’t really talk about it.” “I see.” The Nurse said. She pointed to the clipboard. “What?” Dawn asked. The Nurse pushed her head forward slightly and looked at Dawn, as if to reindicate and encourage her attention to the clipboard. Dawn looked down and saw what appeared to be a lengthy legal statement, something similar to the forms she was given as a kid at the ski slopes: 

 

UNIVERSITY COGNITIVE SCIENCE CENTER

 

General Consent for Care and Treatment Consent

 

TO THE PATIENT: You have the right, as a patient, to be informed about your condition and the recommended surgical, medical or diagnostic procedure to be used so that you may make the decision whether or not to undergo any suggested treatment or procedure after knowing the risks and hazards involved. At this point in your care, no specific treatment plan has been recommended. This consent form is simply an effort to obtain your permission to perform the evaluation necessary to identify the appropriate treatment and/or procedure for any identified condition(s).

 

This consent provides us with your permission to perform reasonable and necessary medical examinations, testing and treatment. By signing below, you are indicating that (1) you intend that this consent is continuing in nature even after a specific diagnosis has been made and treatment recommended; and (2) you consent to treatment at this facility or any other satellite office under common ownership. The consent will remain fully effective until it is revoked in writing. You have the right at any time to discontinue services.

 

I voluntarily request a physician, and/or mid level provider (Nurse Practitioner, Physician Assistant, or Clinical Nurse Specialist), and other health care providers or the designees as deemed necessary, to perform reasonable and necessary medical examination, testing and treatment for the condition which has brought me to seek care at this practice.

 

I certify that I have read and fully understand the above statements and consent fully and voluntarily to its contents.

           

 

“Wait, isn't this like a medical release?” Dawn asked. The Nurse examined her for a moment, and said, “Yes.”

            “So I’m signing this form to commit myself?” She asked. Again, with slight apprehension, the Nurse answered, “...Yes.”

            “But I didn’t come here for that.”

            The Nurse curled her lips under her teeth. “Mmmmm,” she said, thinking, “no.” And she shook her head.

            “What do you mean, ‘no’?” Dawn asked. The Nurse crossed her arms and gave Dawn a look like she already knew the answer. “I think I’d like to leave now.” Dawn said, getting up.

            “Sure.” The nurse answered. Dawn was surprised with the immediacy, she’d heard the stories, after all, of people getting “put” in these places, and they don’t get forms to sign...if they were giving her a form, that means she was legally entitled..that’s right, legally entitled, as, as an individual! She had, she had rights, and such, and legal protections, as a, a, a citizen, sovereignty, sovereign citizen!

            “But,” she said, looking up at her, still sitting down, “the Doctor recommends that you stay.” “Ok.” Dawn shrugged. “Well, the doctor thinks you’re a danger to yourself.” “mhmm.” “So,” the Nurse concluded, “if you do choose to leave, we would get a court order to have you involuntarily committed within 72 hours.” Dawn sat back down.

            “Involuntarily...committed.” “That’s right,” she smiled, “and, to get you back home we’d need a police escort anyway.”

            “I, I understand…” Dawn said. “You do? That's great!”

            “So, ok, if I do decide to stay,” “mhm” “well how long, if I did stay, how long would that be?”

            “The average stay is 5-10 days.” The Nurse answered. “So, like, does that mean the majority leave after 10 days?” “The average stay is 5-10 days.” She repeated. “So you’re saying that most people are here for around a week?”

            “The average stay is 5-10 days.” The nurse restated. “My family is on a trip and they’re getting back probably this week, or sometime next week, and they’re expecting me to be at my dorm.” “Ok, there are phones if you need to make a call.” “No, it's not, that’s not...no I need to use my phone to call them, they’re not in the country.” “Ok.” “Well, could I get my phone back to let them know what’s going on?” “No.” 

            Dawn looked out the large windows, it was getting darker but she could still see, she could still make out, from this floor, from this high up, the outlines of the inner courtyard. She wondered how long it would be her only view.

            “Ok.” Dawn said, and sighed. She picked up the form and signed it slowly with big, rough cursive, then handed the clipboard to the nurse. The nurse pushed it back to her. “No, no; there are more forms under that one.”

            “Oh,” Dawn said, flipping them over, “wait, this one says it needs my license number.”

            “You don’t really need that one.” The Nurse said, “Just check the boxes and sign.”

 

            Andrew was jetlagged the day after the flight. None of them, him included, could’ve ever imagined how onerous these new international travel policies were. It sounds easy enough to get a test a few days before, but you gotta schedule that one in advance, and you gotta schedule your test en location in advance as well, and if anything falls through, anything, then you might miss your flight and have to buy new tickets and get another hotel room and not to mention how expensive everything had become for tourists, how fine tuned all travel experiences were to squeeze out every last dime! Andrew had spent half, half of all his savings and a lot of that was on taxi rides. Oh the beach was beautiful but then you get there and you’re on the fucking beach and what else are you supposed to do? Languish in the hot sands for 6 more days? Half the restaurants were closed, there were no bars, no clubs...and Andrew’s weird plan that he’d come up with--a plan that his parents probably knew about, but, you know, couldn’t talk about--to go out with a wad of cash burning in his pocket and nothing to lose; well, he had something to lose he would think to himself with a sweat and a nervous smirk. His heart was jumping out of his chest as he rounded the corner to the studio, but it turns out they shut that down too! “Health and Safety”...suffice it to say, he was very frustrated on the trip.

            Andrew’s Mom knocked on his door and waited for a moment. She went in. He was wearing headphones, he had his pants down...he didn’t hear or see her. She quietly closed the door.

            “What did he say?” His Dad asked as she came back downstairs. “No, he was busy.” She answered, and made the hand motion under her waist. “Why doesn’t he lock his door...do you think, maybe…” he began. “No, no,” she said, “he’s got nothing to do, summer break and all. Seems like there’s less to do nowadays anyway, in general. He seemed to like the beach...maybe we should take him there after we pick up Dawn.”

            “Yeah she’s still not picking up.” He said. “Have you thought about calling the school, maybe she lost her phone?” She asked. “Oh, you’re probably right.”

            He waited on the line. Press 1 for student accounting, press 2 for residence li--DRR the phone chimed, as he keyed it in.

            They were on hold for a few minutes.

            “Hello this is Natasha from University Residence Life, how can I help you?” a voice rang.

            “Hi Natasha, this is Steven Everglade, I’m the parent of Dawn Everglade. She was supposed to be moving out today but we can’t reach her--”

            “Oh, I’m sorry to hear about that, but we can’t offer refunds for summer housing.” Natasha cut in. “No, I’m not...what? No, she said she could stay until today for us to pick her up but we can’t reach her cell phone.” He told her.

            “Hmmm, what did you say your Daughter’s name was again?” “Dawn Everglade.”

            “Alright,” she said, “let me talk to my manager, I’ll be back with you in oonnne second…”

            Steven and Martha Everglade waited impatiently while a very choppy and compressed rendition of Für Elise played over and over again, sounding particularly terrible in the second movement. Andrew heard the rancor on his way to the bathroom and came downstairs while they were waiting. 

            “What’s up?” He asked. Just then the sound of a receiver being picked up was heard over the line and his Dad shushed him.

            “Hiiii, sorry for the wait. I’m actually going to transfer you over to my supervisor, he’ll be able to assist you better here, ok?” “Ok.” He answered. They were put back on hold. Andrew sat down and waited silently with his parents. They all sat with their arms resting on the table now, looking at each other, quietly, listening intently, perking their ears when even the slightest interference interrupted the hold music, then resting alert while it continued normally.

            “Mr. Everglade?” A stern voice suddenly squawked from the other side.

            “Yes, that’s me, yes.” He said.

            “Hi Mr. Everglade, my name is Jules Harlock. you’re calling about your daughter, right?”

            “That’s right.”

            “Don’t worry, she’s safe--” “Wait, what do you mean, ‘she’s safe?’” He interjected.

            “Your daughter is currently staying in the university psychiatric hospital.” Jules said.

            Excuse me, what?!” “Calm down. She listed you as her emergency contact; we tried calling you then but you didn’t answer.

“She checked herself in about a week ago. She was supposed to move out a few days before then, but when a residence life employee went to check the unit she was still occupying it. We usually give students some leeway and an email notification before taking further action. But a few days later we got a report from a friend of hers saying he’d received some worrisome texts, so we sent in a police officer and a residence life employee to check up on her. She was extremely intoxicated when they arrived, and wasn’t responding coherently so they took her to the station for observation until she sobered up. When she did come too, she had a discussion with a couple officers and decided to go to the hospital. She hasn’t come to pick up her things since so I assume she’s still there.”

            “Jesus christ.” Steven Everglade whispered under his breath

“I’d call the hospital to make sure but I assume she would have contacted you otherwise. Do you have something to write down with?” “Hold on, give me a second.” He said.

He pulled up the contacts app on his phone and put in the number, labeling it University Cognitive & Behavioral Science. He thanked Jules--he called him Mr. Harlock--and hung up. They hung silently there at the table.

“So,” Andrew began, breaking the silence.

“Your Mother and I will let you know when we’ve figured everything out.” Steven said. He folded his arms and glared at his son. “Ok.” Andrew said, unmoving. His Mom looked at him pleadingly. Andrew got up to go upstairs.

He shut the door to his room. He sat down and put his headphones back on. He unpaused the game he’d been playing and picked up his controller. Then he heard faint cries from the living room. “Our baby, our baby!” Martha Everglade whimpered. His Dad was crying too. He turned the volume up.

 

The Everglades were a happy family, and like each individual family does, they had their own inner life; as the parents, two lone alien souls, meet and create a whole world, so too do they try and expand it. All children are therefore equally strange as those who begot them, and the Everglades were no exception. A unique dynamic that could not possibly be replicated or explicated by any other dominated their daily interactions; one absurd, jovial, and overall pleasant. Such a dynamic was not at play as Andrew sat in the back of his parents car watching the dense forest rush by. The ride was characterized by silence.

“When we get in there, just follow me and your mother,” his Dad suddenly chimed in, “they have a whole...procedure...with this thing, and we have to make sure to follow it.”

“Alright.” Andrew answered. Steven looked back at his son’s face in the mirror. He was despondent.

When he checked the map, Steven Everglade was struck by how far out of the way the hospital was. When he was younger--in fact, when he was a student at university--a close friend was caught by one of his roommates in a suicide attempt, and he was brought to a local mental hospital for rehabilitation; but that place was about a mile and a half from campus. It was in between a supermarket and a church. 

He stayed for about a month before release, and Steven would visit him every chance he could and it seemed like he was starting to get better near the end. Then a few weeks later he followed through.

Steven thought about his friend from all those years ago on the drive over; he hadn’t actually thought about him much since the suicide, but the whole thing with Dawn reignited that same dread in his heart he’d had for Charlie back then. And it was almost the same way with Charlie--there was very little anyone could tell about him that would’ve tipped them off to his condition. He was a fun-loving guy, nobody would’ve suspected depression; but like most joyful people, they’re happy among friends, but only because they’re not alone.

There was a small group of other scattered friends, family, of various patients, variously huddled in the small vestibule of SUCB when they arrived. A Nurse came to collect them all; and, after verifying each group’s identity, led them down the hall--the same hall Dawn walked--and up the elevator, and into the small corridor that constituted the entirety of the Voluntary Adult Crisis Stabilization unit; although, they didn’t exactly advertise the name. The patients at that time (7pm), had all retired to their rooms after dinner to languish; or, if they had visitors, to the group therapy room, where Dawn was waiting now. The same place she’d signed the forms more than a week ago, signed herself into her now daily routine which, until then, had been nearly uninterrupted.

She greeted her parents; in the corner of her lip, there was almost the twist of a smile; but, she wasn’t obviously--or subtly--elated. She got up to hug her Dad; ineffectually, but he held on. 

            “Hey Mom.” She said, and they sat down, her parents on either side and Andrew secluded another seat down.

            “Well, sweetie,” her Father asked, “how are you? How is this place, are things going well here?” “It’s alright.” She answered. When she turned to look at him, to answer, it didn’t really seem like she was actually looking at him. That was one thing Steven Everglade remembered about the visit.

            Actually everything Dawn answered was curt and non-specific. And there was a nurse standing at the door, observing them, all of them--all the visitors that is--that she kept glancing at; though, aside from him, it appeared that she couldn’t easily focus on anything else either. In short, she was “level”. And Steven really tried everything to get anything out of her, he even asked if she was alright, in that same concerned tone, but to that she replied simply, “No, I’m fine.”

            “Ok Honey, if you say so. You just stay here until you’re better, alright?” Steven said, after checking the time, looking back at the Nurse himself and realizing they had to go. “I love you.” He told her, before he left. “Mhm.” She replied. She’d neither smiled nor frowned, expressed any reaction or annoyance throughout the whole visit. But then, for the briefest moment, some flash of fear and awareness set in her eyes. “I, I love you too…” she replied weakly. And then it was gone.

            “I know, I know princess I know,” he said, hugging her as he got up, “I’ll visit next week, I promise, next week I’ll be here for you.” Steven said before leaving, seemingly forgetting momentarily that he had two other family members. They followed behind as he gallantly walked out.

            After the visitors were all gone, Dawn left the group therapy room and sat back down on the couch to watch basketball. She sat for almost an hour in the same position, unmoving, but then she got up to use the bathroom, then sat back down for two hours. The Nurses then called everyone to bed so she went to her room with the lights out and the curtains drawn, laid on her side and stared out the window at the moon until she fell asleep.

            In the morning she went out of her room to get breakfast. It was eggs and bacon with toast with orange juice and milk for the cereal, and some hummus, like she’d selected the night before. She went up to the dispensary to get her meds, which she took twice a day, once in the morning once in the evening. She downed her pill with the juice; she ate silently. Some of the other patients would chat at meals and during freetime, but Dawn stopped talking much after the first couple days.

            It may not have appeared that much attention was focused on her by the staff; however, they were monitoring her closely. She was very effectual with Dr. Grossman when he did his first session with her, but then when the time came again for her to be evaluated by a psychologist she was meek and mild and when this was reported to Dr. Grossman no action was taken because this meant the drugs were working. And the drugs did work, over the course of that next week, her eyes grew duller, her expression distant, her general disposition weak and timid. From that point on, she presented no more difficulties for the staff.

           

            As time passed her family visited less and less. When he got the chance, Steven Everglade would catch Dr. Grossman on his way out and ask about the case, how Dawn was progressing. He would answer with varying enthusiasm or satisfaction, depending on how well a given week’s group therapy session went, how stable she seemed, the observations and notes from various staff members. About a month later Dawn finally got out of the hospital. Steven was so happy to see her, Andrew too, their mom baked cookies and they said they would take her on all sorts of trips, anywhere she wanted they would go, but Dawn said she was fine and she was just happy to be back and she had an intensive outpatient program she had to attend thrice weekly anyway. They were happy to be together as a family again.

            Though it was noticeable to everyone how far she’d changed, how different her aspect was and how meek she’d become. But it was the summer, and all she had to do was attend her outpatient program and come home. When she came home she stayed in her room and didn’t exercise because her medication made it difficult to regulate her body heat, so the one time she tried even taking a walk around her neighborhood she nearly got heat stroke. But she wasn’t in any real danger, they all thought--all her family members--so it was ok for her to be at home, as long as she felt safe, as long as she was doing alright, it was fine, everything was fine.

            Dawn would lie down and stare with her curtains drawn at the moon every night, even when there was a new moon, or it was so cloudy it didn’t show. She could seem to find it, would always look, peer deep into its milky whiteness, and then fall into a deep, deep slumber, from which, in truth, she never did quite awaken.