Patient's Belongings

1.

On the top shelf of one of my closets sit a bunch of bags labeled Patient's Personal Belongings. The bags have been resting there since I moved into my current apartment about ten years ago. I finally decided it was time to go through them and discard some things and get the shelf more organized.

When a patient comes to the hospital he doesn't always come with luggage or leave with luggage depending on his circumstances. Some people come to the hospital in pajamas or whatever they happen to be wearing because of an emergency. Sometimes people are brought to a hospital against their will not even having time to grab anything. And, sometimes a patient acquires more items during his stay in the hospital than he came with. So, the hospital provides heavy-duty plastic bags for patients to put their belongings into.

I've been in the hospital more times than I care to remember and have accumulated a small collection of these belongings bags. Some of the bags traveled with me from inpatient to day treatment and from day treatment to residential care facility (RCF). Ultimately, the bags traveled with me to my apartment ten years ago. After moving into my apartment, I was busy volunteering and working and and engaging in the everyday tasks of living like we all must. So, the bags all went into the closet for safekeeping.

I'd look at them piled there on the closet shelf from time to time but never had the motivation to take on the task of sorting through them until now.

These bags are a time capsule of sorts. The items I found in the bags remind of both good and bad times. The items document the journey I've been on over the last several years.

2.

In one bag I find a small paper mache box with a brass latch I decorated in activities therapy group while in the hospital undergoing treatment for anorexia nervosa and depression. On the outside of the box I have written some affirmations with a marker.

I've got the power!

I deserve to be happy!

Relax, everything will be okay!

I love life!

I am a friendly person!

Inside of the box I find a small ceramic ornament that I believe Sarah painted and gave to me. She may have given it to me for Christmas or perhaps because she was being discharged. The ornament is a puppy with a bow sitting on a pillow. I remember it touched me at the time because we had been through a lot on the psych unit together and I had a bit of a crush on her.

I find a St. Jude Thaddeus bookmark that Whitney gave to me. Jade had gotten into the habit of calling me Thaddeus because the name Tharin was strange to her I guess. That's why Whitney gave me the Saint Jude Thaddeus bookmark.

Saint Jude Thaddeus is the patron of impossible causes, desperate situations, and hospitals. I guess I didn't realize at the time just how appropriate that bookmark was.

I certainly felt like a lost cause at the time being locked on a psych unit wondering if I'd ever feel well again.

I find two CDs labeled Support Songs that we made in music therapy. Each eating disorder patient picked a song to share and discuss. I chose "You've Got a Friend" by James Taylor.

You just call out my name, and you know wherever I am

I'll come running, oh yeah baby, to see you again

Winter, spring, summer, or fall

All you got to do is call and I'll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah

You've got a friend

3.

 

Some of the bags contain books I read while living at a residential care facility (RCF). A residential care facility is a bit like a nursing home and a bit like an asylum. A lot of the residents were mentally ill. The age of the residents ranged from young adults to elderly. I was having a tough time dealing with anorexia nervosa and depression so some doctors and therapists thought an RCF would be a supportive environment where I could stabilize my weight and maintain and even strengthen the health I had restored before moving on to a more independent living situation.

While living at the RCF, I took the bus to work sometimes and to volunteer sometimes. But, there were also periods when I wasn't working and found myself with a lot of time on my hands. So, I read some books to pass the time.

Some of the books I find in the patient bags are:

Beowulf

The Saga of the Volsungs

The Poetic Edda

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

The Quest of the Holy Grail

The Mabinogian

The Epic of Gilgamesh

The Complete Idiot's Guide to the Roman Empire

The Complete Idiot's Guide to Ancient Greece

The Complete Idiot's Guide to Creative Writing

Poetry for Dummies

The Best American Essays of the Century

Persuasion by Jane Austen

Franny and Zoey by J.D. Salinger

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov

I don't recall how I first learned of The Saga of the Volsungs. Perhaps I was reading a transcript of the cartoon “What's Opera, Doc?” where it mentions Bugs Bunny riding in on a horse disguised as Brunnhilde. I had no idea who Brunnhilde was at the time or even what a valkyrie was so I probably did some research.

The Volsunga Saga, a 13th century Icelandic prose story, introduces us to Sigurd and Brynhild. A similar story, The Nibelungenlied, is an epic German poem which tells the story of Siegfried and Brunhild.

Some elements of The Volsunga Saga may have inspired Richard Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen and J.R.R Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings.

In The Volsunga Saga, Brynhild is a valkyrie. In The Nibelunglied, Brunhild is Queen of Iceland.

Brynhild was the daughter of Budli. She was a Valkyrie punished by Odin for disobedience. Her punishment was that she was to wed a mortal. She would sleep, surrounded by a circle of fire, at the mountaintop, at the place known as Hindfell. She would sleep until a mortal warrior was brave enough to ride through the flame.

Sigurd sought out Brynhild and went to Hindfell. Sigurd rode Grani through the flame and wakened the beautiful battle-maiden. They fell in love with one another. Sigurd stayed with her, until he decided it was time to leave.

Sigurd told Brynhild, that he had duties to perform, but he would come back for her. Brynhild agreed and told the hero she would sleep in the Ring of Fire and wait for his return. Sigurd gave the magic ring (Andvaranaut) to Brynhild as a token of his love. But the token was cursed.

I'm surprised Disney hasn't adapted this into a animated movie. It has a love story, magic, treasure, a dragon, and more.

Would the movie be a tragic love story? Or, would it focus on the heroics of Sigurd/Siegfried? Or, would it be a girl power movie focusing on the strength and wisdom of Brynhild?

The copy of Lolita was given to me by Marie. She was a young woman recovering from an eating disorder who also lived at the RCF for a short period. I approached her in the dining room one evening. I wanted to let her know that I was also recovering from an eating disorder and that I was available if she wanted to talk or needed support. I also approached her because she was really cute.

We got to know each other better over time. She was new to the RCF and had to be on observation after each meal. She had to sit at her table for an hour after each meal within sight of one of the patient care aides.

I started spending some time with her while she was on observation. We would talk and sometimes we would play card games like Kings in the Corner. Mainly, I just wanted to spend time with her because she was kind, intelligent, and beautiful.

One day as she was leaving for day treatment, she handed me a copy of Lolita. I think she may have mentioned the book before during our discussions and perhaps she thought I could use some new reading material.

I opened the book after she left and realized she had placed a note inside. She wrote that I should read Lolita because it was really an amazing novel. She also thanked me for keeping her company while on observation. She wrote, "I don't know why you'd want to put yourself through such excruciating boredom but thank you."

I still have that note of course. Being with you, Marie, was never excruciating. I miss your smile. I miss you dimpled cheek. I miss the interesting questions you asked me. I miss playing cards with you and having you ask, "Are you sure that's how you want to play your cards?" I miss talking with you. I miss being with you. It was always wonderful.

Marie eventually left the RCF to get back to her life in the so-called real world. I was sad she had to leave but also happy to see her moving on with her life.

4.

In one of the bags, I find some "therapeutic material." I find mood logs and thought records. I find a list of cognitive distortions. I find "Fifteen Ways to Untwist Your Thinking." These simple worksheets are simply more tools to help a person explore his or her thoughts and feelings.

I find lists of feelings/emotions. Some of the emotions lists have simple pictures of faces to illustrate the emotions. I like the emotions lists. Sometimes I can find just the right word for what I'm feeling. I might be feeling frustrated, for example, as opposed to angry. Or perhaps at times anxious seems to fit my emotional state better than nervous or tense.

I find lists of positive affirmations.

Affirmations are a technique you can use to strengthen your self-confidence and increase your personal power. The definition of an affirmation is: A strong positive statement about yourself that you do not believe. The more you disbelieve something about yourself, the better its potential as an affirmation.

I love myself

I do not have to be perfect

I am competent

I am proud of my determination

I am beautiful both inside and out

I am loved and accepted

I am allowed to make mistakes

I deserve to be happy

I deserve to relax

I am a work in progress

I am not responsible for anyone but myself

I am unique and special

I believe in myself

I make mistakes but I am not a mistake

I am confident

I am attractive

I am kind to myself

I am grateful for my life

I have a purpose on earth

I have a lot to contribute

I create my own destiny

I am worthy of my own acceptance

I am in charge of my own happiness

I deserve to be healthy

I deserve and desire to enjoy life

I forgive myself

I am an unrepeatable miracle

I don't believe in the power of affirmations. I refuse to stand in front of a mirror and tell myself things I don't believe. I don't mind reading the affirmations although some of them seem a little corny.

Some patients don't like the material. They say it doesn't help them at all.

I was tempted to call one of the psychiatric nurses I met in treatment Nurse Ratched after the fictional character in the 1975 film One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. I don't think that would have went over well because she surely would have gotten the reference. She came off as a heartless battle-axe at times but she was really well-versed in cognitive theory and therapy. I'm quite sure she'd tell me that my therapeutic material was doing me no good sitting on a shelf in my closet

I find a copy of the Partial Hospital day treatment schedule. Some mornings we were weighed before breakfast. Some mornings after breakfast we went to the gym for stretching and relaxation. One morning each week we had to cook our own breakfast in the occupational therapy kitchen. We had various therapy groups including music therapy. We had a weekend planning group. Have you bought groceries for the weekend? Have you planned out your time so you don't find yourself sitting around isolating too much? Once a week we had Community Integration. We tried to do an activity in the community like visiting an art museum or going out for lunch at a restaurant.

We had Nutrition Group once a week. We often discussed The Minnesota Study. The Minnesota Starvation Experiment, also known as the Minnesota Semi-Starvation Experiment, the Minnesota Starvation-Recovery Experiment and the Starvation Study, was a clinical study performed at the University of Minnesota between November 19, 1944 and December 20, 1945. The investigation was designed to determine the physiological and psychological effects of severe and prolonged dietary restriction and the effectiveness of dietary rehabilitation strategies.

The researchers were concerned mainly about postwar relief efforts for famine victims in Europe and Asia. The study relied on volunteers who were conscientious objectors. One of the crucial observations of the Minnesota Starvation Experiment discussed by a number of researchers in the nutritional sciences—including Ancel Keys—is that the physical effects of the induced semi-starvation during the study closely approximate the conditions experienced by people with a range of eating disorders such as anorexia nervosa and bulimia nervosa.

We discussed other things as well. What is a nutrient? How much energy does your body require just for its basic functions? What counts as one serving of protein, carbohydrate, or fat? What exactly is normal eating?

What is normal eating?

Written in 1983 by Ellyn Satter

Normal eating is going to the table hungry and eating until you are satisfied.

It is being able to choose food you enjoy and eat it and truly get enough of it – not just stop eating because you think you should.

Normal eating is being able to give some thought to your food selection so you get nutritious food, but not being so wary and restrictive that you miss out on enjoyable food.

Normal eating is giving yourself permission to eat sometimes because you are happy, sad or bored, or just because it feels good.

Normal eating is mostly three meals a day, or four or five, or it can be choosing to munch along the way.

It is leaving some cookies on the plate because you know you can have some again tomorrow, or it is eating more now because they taste so wonderful.

Normal eating is overeating at times, feeling stuffed and uncomfortable. And it can be undereating at times and wishing you had more.

Normal eating is trusting your body to make up for your mistakes in eating. Normal eating takes up some of your time and attention, but keeps its place as only one important area of your life.

In short, normal eating is flexible. It varies in response to your hunger, your schedule, your proximity to food and your feelings.

We had a group called Tea Time. It's official name was Communication Group and was led by both OT (Occupational Therapy) and AT (Activities Therapy). OT/AT = T-time because they both end in T. T-time = Tea Time. Get it? We were, in fact, required to have a hot beverage (e.g. tea, coffee, hot chocolate) along with a snack during Tea Time. We were encouraged to talk while having our snack. It wasn't a therapy group per se. We were allowed to talk about anything except politics and religion.

At the end of each day, we could pick up a voucher in order to purchase our dinner in the hospital cafeteria before going home.

5.

I find some old journals in another bag. While undergoing inpatient treatment on the psychiatric unit, the eating disorder patients are given small composition books to use as journals. We're supposed to record our thoughts and feelings and reread what we've written to find thought distortions.

Sometimes I simply wrote of experiences that moved in some way whether good or bad.

Saturday September 24, 2005 - Elsa was sitting by me on the love seat by the nurses' station. She said, Tharin you're always so relaxed and serene. How do you do it?"

I replied, "I don't know."

Then she said, "Tharin, if we weren't in treatment I would date you because you have a lot qualities I look for in a man."

I said, "Thank you. That means a lot to me. Am I blushing now?"

You see I hadn't been on a date for ages at that point. I hadn't felt attractive for a long time. After hearing Elsa's words I felt attractive again. I felt wanted. And, I had feelings for this cute blond woman as well.

A few days later Elsa told me she didn't think I should go home after discharge from the hospital. She thought I should come with her to Kansas. Having a beautiful and kind woman wanting me to be with her was almost unbelievable. Sure, I'd had girlfriends in high school and college but I had felt scrawny and unattractive for a long time. I couldn't imagine someone wanting me. I couldn't really fathom a romantic relationship but I really wanted to come with her to Kansas.

Saturday October 1, 2005 - Elsa came to my room tonight just before bed after we were off observation. She gave me a kiss goodnight on the cheek. It was probably against the rules but I, of course, don't care.

Recovering from an eating disorder and dealing with mental illness isn't easy. Elsa had difficulties and so did I. She went back to Kansas without me although I did give her a silver bracelet for her birthday not long before her departure.

It's painful to read many of the old journal entries. It reminds me struggling I was going through and wondering if I would ever be healthy or have any sort of normal life again. Perhaps journaling is meant to aid one in his moment of struggle but not meant to be reread.

During one bad period, a nurse's aide named Carolyn cheered me up when told me they kept the patients they liked a little longer.

In one entry I noted that Sarah, the unit clerk, was observing us during lunch one day.

She was singing a song and said, "Tharin, I'm serenading you."

I said, "I'm sorry but my heart belongs to another."

She pretended to be crushed and said, "I have to go home now."

She's so sweet.

In another entry I mention a female patient named Elaine.

Elaine said she was going to ask if I could be her roommate. Ha ha.

Then Candi said, "Well, I get him tomorrow night."

I know they're joking around but it's nice to feel attractive again.

The journal entries are filled with a lot of pain and suffering. I was really struggling. But, I also noted that even when things were really bad there were always patients, nurses, and aides reminding me that they cared and that I mattered.

6.

I find some letters, cards, and notes. A note from Rebecca reads, "Oh Muffin, how I shall miss you." We had flirted a lot on the psych unit. She, Sarah, and I went to dinner and a movie one evening after attending day treatment. Her note goes on to say, "You have so much potential."

I find a Christmas card Tiana left on my pillow when we spent Christmas on the psych unit together. She thanked me for making inpatient a little easier to endure. I first met Tiana in the Partial Psychiatric Hospital Program. She was a tall skinny volleyball player struggling to stay at a healthy weight. We both eventually ended up on the inpatient unit needing a higher level of care.

I find a note from Lindsey. We spent some time in day treatment together and living at the RCF together. She writes, "I really don't know what to say except I'm glad I met you. You made my experience at the RCF a lot more bearable. You are a sweet and funny guy. You deserve more of a life than living here. I hope you work things out and GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE. Take care of yourself and EAT ENOUGH TO BE HEALTHY. Remember you still owe me a drink and I won't accept it from a skeleton. Always, Lindsey. ♥"

Erika wrote me a note too just before discharge from the care facility. She writes, “My head is too clouded right now to express what I want to tell you. I'll miss dragging you out to walk and talk. Thank you for being there for me. I owe you a ton.”

Perhaps I'm not as bad of a person as I think if these women could write such kind words to me.

7.

Assignment Number 1

Dr. M was a beautiful intelligent doctor. I didn't always agree with her though. She wanted me to take some medication at one point in my treatment which I didn't want to take. She said she would seek the legal authority to make me take it. I was, of course, furious. She had the nerve to ask me to do a writing exercise on anger. She gave me a worksheet with some writing prompts. The finished project was supposed to be a poem. She gave this same assignment to a lot of other patients. Lindsey threw it back in the doctor's face.

I like to write. So, despite my anger I did the assignment. I find my finished poem among the bags.

I see a glimpse of me as a boy

I am playing with some cherished toy

I am wearing jeans and a white shirt

I thought that I could never be hurt

I wear a smile and seem content

I am living in the moment

My hair is blond and very neat

The world I'm in is very sweet

My eyes are blue and very bright

I see no trouble in my sight

I did not know I could feel rage

Now I find myself trapped in a cage

This grown up world can be rough The obstacles of life can be tough

I'm forced to swallow a pill I do not want

The cruel cold world seems to taunt

I feel the pain deep in my gut The pain is worse than being cut

My head is clouded;I cannot think

The edge of disaster;I'm on the brink

I'm trapped in a small dark box This machine has me trapped

I can hardly breathe

This machine drains me of my energy

It speaks in a monotone voice

It gives me no choice

It has no mercy;it's like a pit I can't crawl out of

It drains me of my interest in life

It hears nothing I have to say

It does not care

I see that small boy again

He's trapped in the control-power machine

He's angry and scared;he has no hope

How can he escape this place?

The boy yells, “Listen to me please!”

The boy says, “I know what I need.”

Now I am happy I'm back on course

My head is held high

I'm finally free

I come back to the rescue with strength and determination as my weapons

I smash the machine's walls!

I save the boy and myself

I'm not going to win any poetry contests, obviously. But, it's not bad for something I jotted down fairly quickly. The doctor was impressed. She changed her mind about the medication. She said it was my choice whether to take it or not.

The pen is mightier than the sword?

8.

Assignment 2

The foreign doctor who seemed to think he was the next Sigmund Freud became exasperated with me. He said I wasn't working hard enough to get healthy. He accused me of f*cking around. His words hurt me. His words shamed me. His words scared me. His words angered me.

He too decided that a writing assignment was in order. He wanted me to read "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe and write something about it. I wanted to tell him to f*ck off. He had no power to force me to do this writing assignment.

But, another part of me took it as a challenge. I'll show you, a**hole.

I did some research with articles from the Patients' Library and began writing.

This was the resulting essay which I read to the doctor and a few others in a small meeting room during daily rounds.

The Raven is about a lonely man who misses his lost love Lenore. She is the rare and radiant maiden he speaks of. The narrator is isolated in his chamber. He is lonely and filled with sorrow. But, I think he is comfortable there. The comfort of the chamber is more desirable than the tempest outside that he speaks of.

The raven represents the narrator's memories he cannot let go. Or, perhaps the raven represents the man's subconscious or thought processes. At any rate, one quickly realizes the raven's answer is always negative. The narrator also realizes the answer will always be “nevermore.” Nonetheless, the narrator continues to ask questions.

The man brings anguish on himself and continues his self torture because he continues to ask the raven questions. He destroys himself by fighting against something that cannot be changed. All he can do is cling to the memories of his lost love.

How does this poem relate to my situation? I have not lost a love. What have I lost? Perhaps I've lost or am likely to lose my eating disorder. I wouldn't call it a love but it became a close part of me at times. Perhaps I am like the narrator feeling somewhat isolated and lonely and missing my eating disorder that was comfortable.

The medical establishment and my family may represent the raven. At times perhaps I have been considered to be fighting the treatment process. Perhaps some believe I am still missing the eating disorder.

Now I stand to lose my freedom to some degree. People think I have been given enough chances to prove myself even as I persist and say, “I can do this. I can be a man and I can do this.”

But like the raven, the people concerned about me are saying, “Nevermore.”

Will I be allowed to wither away? Nevermore.

Will I be allowed to act childish and not take responsibility? Nevermore.

Will I be allowed to act as though my life is not important? Nevermore.

I don't want to be like the narrator. I don't want to miss my eating disorder like a lost love. I don't want to ruminate on the past. I don't want to torture myself and destroy myself. The tempest of the real world may seem scary at times compared to the relative calmness of being taken care of by others. But I want to face the tempest and tame it. I will be a man and I will be the one who has the will and the power himself to say to his eating disorder, “Never-nevermore.”

I won't go so far as to say the doctor was astonished but he did seem impressed.

"You...wrote this?"

"Yes, I did."

I think I gained at least a bit of his respect that day.

The pen is mightier than the sword?

9.

I find some papers concerning a commitment hearing that was held in the hospital in regards to my mental health. One of the papers attempts to explain to the court why I am a danger to myself and should be held involuntarily on a locked psychiatric unit. It's unsettling having people in powerful positions claim they have "documents alleging you suffer from a serious mental impairment." It's distressing reading. Memories of the hearing anger me still and scare me because I don't want to ever have it happen again. The hearing was a joke. My attorney did not vigorously defend me. She did nothing. I read a statement on my own behalf but to no avail. It's odd hearing doctors and lawyers lie about you and not being able to say anything. It's curious that people who are no saner than you can pass judgment and decide your fate.

Not long after the hearing, I received a letter from my attorney. I, of course, knew I had not prevailed in the hearing. She just wanted to confirm what Had taken place and let me know I could appeal. She writes, "I just wanted to confirm that the judge entered an order committing you to the care of state of Iowa."

I like the part about being committed to the "care" of the state. Lucky me.

I was considered to be in such a precarious state of health that upon discharge from the hospital I was sent to live in a Residential Care Facility (RCF) - an asylum if you will.

Never fear, dear reader, I met a lot of great staff and residents. I even met some beautiful and kind women and fell in love a few times.

I find a work badge in one of the bags reminding I worked on a few projects with Sarah at her place of employment.

I find a folder inscribed with the words Volunteer Services. The application and hiring process for volunteering was tougher than for any job I'd ever applied for. I guess it's important that they scrutinize potential volunteers carefully in a hospital setting.

Evidently the hospital found me to be suitable because I was given a volunteer position. I delivered items like flowers to patient's rooms for a while and ultimately ended up volunteering in the Patients' Library. That's where I met Jane, another volunteer. It just so happens she struggled with an eating disorder as well. So, naturally, we started spending time together and I fell in love with her.

I only find one note from Jane among the bags that she sent to me while she was in the hospital. The note has a frog on it. So, she wrote a frog related poem to go with it.

Frogs go hopping in

Frogs go hopping out

Frogs hopping in and

They shake it all about

Be froggy!!!

I find some pictures of her as well. Beautiful.

10.

I was discharged from the RCF in September of 2007. I had arrived for treatment in September of 2005. So, the belongings bags I have accumulated represent a two year struggle to regain my health and independence. They trace my journey from inpatient to day treatment to care facility and finally to having my own place again.

And, the fact that those bags were able to sit and gather dust on the same shelf in that same apartment for ten years now represents at least some sort of stability in my life for which I am grateful.

I suppose a trip to the hospital isn't always a bad thing. Babies are born in hospitals. Little bundles of joy. People receiving organ transplants are given a new lease on life.

I guess the belongings bags collecting dust in my closet affirm that I've remained healthy enough to live in one place for ten years. Those plastic bags occupying the same space for several years are a testament to my health and good fortune.

I'm the kind of guy that never feels too sure about the permanence of things. I'm sure about the love and support of family and friends. I'm fairly certain the sun will be there in the sky each day even if hidden by clouds occasionally. Like Benjamin Franklin I'm certain of death and taxes.

But, other than that I'm afraid to put too much faith or trust in anything. I don't have a positive attitude and expect the best. I'm the kind of guy who always seems to be waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop – an idiom meaning to await a seemingly inevitable event, especially one that is not desirable.

Perhaps I waited ten years to unpack these hospital bags because I didn't want to tempt fate. I didn't want fate to think I was getting too comfortable. I didn't want to send the universe a message that I was feeling relaxed and secure. I tend to just take one day at a time and see what happens. I hope for the best but want to be prepared for the worst.

So, perhaps the bags stayed there for ten years until I felt reasonably assured I wasn't going to be going back to the hospital or moving to a new dwelling again.

I guess I was fortunate to grow up living on the same property with a supportive family throughout my youth and young adult years.

Sometimes you have to relax and let yourself feel safe. Sometimes you have to be optimistic.

Sometimes you have to look at some things from the past. Some will bring fond memories and some pain. You can save what you want and discard the rest.