When I was discharged from the inpatient eating disorders unit in December of '97, I was escorted by a nurse to the extreme north end of the hospital to an area called Boyd Tower. I was going to be boarding there while attending a day treatment program in the Psychiatric Partial Hospital (PPH). The Partial Hospitalization Program was housed in an area on the 5th floor of the old General Hospital.
Don't let the name Boyd Tower fool you. The name might conjure up images of a fancy place with upscale apartments. But Boyd Tower was originally known as the North Tower addition and had been built in front of the old gothic looking General Hospital. So, my room in Boyd Tower was simply an old hospital room. I liked it though. I had everything I needed. I had a bed, nightstand, shower, and even a TV. I had a roommate but sometimes we kept the curtain drawn between us for a bit of privacy. My room was on 5 Boyd Tower (5BT). So, to attend Partial Hospital each day I only had to walk down a couple of hallways seeing as Partial was also on the 5th floor in the General Hospital.
Boyd Tower was built in such a way that one can still see the facade (front) of the old General Hospital when inside Boyd. I found it intriguing to see the old facade when passing from Boyd into the General Hospital. The gothic tower entrance was preserved.
Years later, when I had to return to Partial Hospital again, the dietitian told us that a dragon could be found in the hospital, and she could prove it. I'm not sure how the dragon discussion came up, but we set out to see this dragon. She escorted our group up to 7BT and we did indeed see a dragon built into the facade of the old hospital. I have since wondered what the dragon represents. Surely the dragon is symbolic, perhaps representing wisdom, knowledge, strength, supernatural power, and protection.
* * *
While living on Boyd I had a lot more freedom than I did living on a locked psychiatric unit. I could come and go as I pleased. I don't recall having a curfew although I assume a staff of some sort was around. On the weekends I received a voucher for each meal which I could use at the cafeteria located on the first floor which I believe was in the General Hospital near Elevator C. The Fountain Lobby next to the cafeteria was still the main entrance at the time and the Volunteer Gift Shop was tucked away in one corner.
Interestingly, my eating disorder recovery journey began in General Hospital. When I arrived, they didn't have a bed available on the eating disorders unit, so I was placed in the Medical Psychiatry (Med/Psych) Unit on 4th floor (4SE) in General Hospital. Eventually, the Med/Psych Unit was moved so it was closer to the psychiatric units in the new part of the hospital. I think I only spent one evening on Med/Psych before being taken to 2JPE in the new part of the hospital. So, I was basically about as far from the eating disorders unit as I could have been. On the day I was transferred someone pushed me in a wheelchair from one end of the hospital to the other. I wasn't allowed to walk.
I believe the eating disorders unit located on 2JPE was only three years old when I arrived. That is to say the Pavillion containing 2JPE was only three years old. The rooms were nice. The so-called dayroom was nice even with its vinyl/Naugahyde furniture. Everything was carpeted except the bathrooms and the dining room. The unit didn't feel as antiquated, grim, clinical, cold, and sterile as 4SE.
* * *
My first roommate in Boyd Tower was also attending Partial. But he was on the so-called mood track while I was on the EDO track. I think there was also a track for individuals with neurological disorders. I believe that all three groups sometimes met together for group therapy.
My roommate was a bit of a Lothario. He was a womanizer. He asked me which girl I liked best from Partial. I think I might have said Lisa because she was petite at only 5 feet tall. I think he mentioned a girl named Diane who liked to work out. He also flirted a bit with Stephanie in the lunch line one day who had gotten her hair cut.
"Doesn't Stephanie look nice with her new hairdo?" he asked in her presence.
"Yes, she looks very nice," I agreed.
I overheard Stephanie tell another girl in Partial that she was attracted to him, but she had a boyfriend.
A girl from the mood track paid our room in Boyd a visit one evening after dinner. She came to see my roommate. I was half asleep in my bed and she slipped behind the drawn curtain to talk to him.
While in my drowsy state, I became aware of some hushed tones and commotion on the other side of the curtain. Even in my somnolent state, I realized they were having sex. I felt too tired to get up and leave the room. And I figured they'd made the decision to fornicate with only a curtain separating us and I had no obligation to leave. So, I remained.
"Well, wow. I've never had this happen before," I heard him remark regarding having just had sex in a hospital room with a young woman he barely knew.
He must have asked her if she climaxed because I heard her say, "No, I never do."
And then she was gone. I didn't look at her and pretended to still be asleep. I don't think he and I discussed the episode either. Another evening, Diane was sitting in our room talking to my roommate. Yes, Diane his dream girl. I left the room and went down to the gift shop for a bit. When I returned, she was gone. I don't think they had sex. She had a boyfriend. Plus, she didn't seem like a girl who would "get it on" in a hospital room. I don't recall if Stephanie ever paid us a visit.
* * *
Ryan, my roommate from 2JPE was with us in Partial. He was living in a residential care facility while going to Partial which was tough for a teenager. He was hot for a teenage girl named Rachel from Montana who had also transitioned to Partial with us. They had a scheme/plan to find where the official green scrubs worn by doctors were stored and steal some as a souvenir. I don't recall if that ever happened. I nicked a couple pairs of light blue hospital pajama bottoms to bring home with me.
Ryan began attending high school in Iowa even though he was from Idaho. He made some friends and even a girlfriend. He planned an outing to a school sporting event with this girl and some friends one evening. The therapists were concerned about his plan to go out and be responsible for his own meal that evening. The group was planning on going to Burger King. The therapists finally acquiesced. I think the evening went okay and he reported that he tried to be "normal" and eat a burger and fries like any average teen might do.
* * *
At some point after the holiday season, the people boarding on Boyd Tower were moved to a unit just down the hall in the General Hospital called C54. The moniker C54 sounds like the provisional name of a newly discovered planet not yet given a proper name. Or perhaps C54 sounds like the designation given to some void or wastelands or other uninhabited area. Stay out of zone C54! I have a theory that C stands for centrally located and 54 merely indicates that it's located on the fifth floor.
I think 5BT was being converted into a chemical dependency treatment area. I was a bit upset having to leave Boyd. But C54 was fine. The rooms seemed a bit older. A staff member was always around at the nurses' station. I remember a male nurse or aide who wore glasses who seemed nice. I was sick one weekend and he noticed I hadn't been using my meal vouchers. He scolded me for not eating and said I should at least have a can of 7-Up or something.
What if something paranormal had happened? After all I was moving to a ward in the old General Hospital which had a gothic tower at its entrance. You've heard of gothic literature, right?
When I walk onto C54 I feel an eerie chill. I feel a draft of air though I'm not near an open window. The lights flicker. Suddenly C54 is transformed into an open ward filled with beds side by side along both walls. Nurses in white dresses, shoes, and caps are attending to the patients. Is that woman wearing a pinafore? What is she doing? A doctor in a white coat seems to look knowingly in my direction but then returns his attention to a patient. No one seems to notice me. Lightning illuminates the world outside the windows of the ward electrifying the night as thunder cracks. A nurse tries to calm a distressed patient. An apparition appears at the end of the ward. Is she an angel? She walks slowly toward me. I try to scream but can make no sound.
Then my vision vanished as someone calling to me snapped me back to reality.
"Can I help you?
"Oh, uh, yes. I was told to pack my belongings and report to the nurses' station here. I'm from 5 Boyd Tower."
But, no, nothing like that ever happened.
I also recall a female nurse on C54 who was nice. In my memory she is auburn-haired and kind with a bit of a Southern accent. I don't suppose she actually had an accent but that's how I remember it for some reason.
I remember her coming into our room one evening and checking on me which I thought was sweet. Did she sit on the edge of my bed, or do I just like to remember it that way? I recall being attracted to her and forgive me dear reader, wishing she would slip into bed next to me.
I was nearing the end of my journey when I got to C54. I would be discharged in early February. But I didn't feel well at all. I had gained a lot of weight. That was the point I suppose. I had been emaciated and on the brink of death when I'd arrived. But now I was fat, depressed, and my stomach still bothered me. Why had I come here if I felt just as bad or maybe even worse than when I'd arrived? I was angry with the so-called treatment team. I hated them. Yes, I thought about suicide a lot in that room on C54 just before being discharged. Strange, huh?
* * *
I walked the halls a lot during the evenings and weekends while boarding in the hospital. I could walk from Boyd or C54 on the North all the way over to newest addition to the hospital. It felt strange walking the empty halls of a big hospital feeling like I should be living in my apartment and working like a normal person. I was scared. What was going to become of me? Would I return home? Would I ever get through all of this? What did my future hold?
During my second major hospitalization in '05, 5BT had become home to the Partial Program. The place where I boarded long ago was now Partial. The EDO group had to walk south all the way over to the Occupational Therapy (OT) kitchen twice a week, one day to cook our own breakfast and another day to prepare a group lunch. We also walked to the Activities Therapy gymnasium and to aquatic therapy on the lower level in the Rehabilitation Therapies area. Did you know hospitals could have a small gymnasium? The wading pool for aquatics had water that was quite warm and felt good. Also, the treatment team believed that learning to be comfortable around others in a swimsuit was beneficial for body image issues.
I could no longer board in the hospital in '05, so I had to stay in a motel off campus. When that arrangement proved insufficient, I ended up living in the same residential care facility Ryan had years before.
Upon discharge from Partial I chose to stay living in the city near the hospitals and clinics. I even volunteered in the Patients' Library at the hospital and made several deliveries and pickups in various parts of the hospital. I got to know the layout of the hospital even better than I already had.
* * *
The old gothic tower never scared me. It was kind of eerie the first time I noticed it when passing from Boyd into the General Hospital. I realized that the red brick and limestone I was looking at was the facade, the entrance, of the old hospital. I'd discovered old ruins! I'd discovered a medieval castle! I'd discovered a lost city. I'd discovered the Hanging Gardens of Babylon! I'd discovered the Great Temple at Abu Simbel. You get the idea.
I tried to imagine when Boyd didn't exist, and the new additions didn't exist. I tried to imagine when the General Hospital was cutting edge in its day and a preeminent teaching hospital.
I noticed windows on the old facade that I assumed at one time were functional but now seemed to have a wall of black behind them. These windows that seemed to show no interior and no light beyond them were eerie. Windows that lead to nowhere. It's possible that these windows had always been false or blank windows. I don't know much about architecture. At any rate, the windows on the old facade were interesting.
Was this old facade telling me that in my healing journey I was going to see no light of hope? Were these old windows a visual metaphor that I was going to have a tough time transitioning into a new life after treatment? Windows can represent hope and possibility. But what if the windows seem to lead to nowhere? Perhaps these blocked portals were telling me to forget past struggles and traumas and to embrace a new vibrant and healthy life. Perhaps these seemingly blocked windows were symbols of security and safety, acting as protective barriers between a painful past and a new healthy beginning.
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Here's what an AI program generated for me:
Gothic architecture, with its soaring spires and intricate details, serves as a metaphor for healing by symbolizing aspiration and transcendence; just as the great cathedrals draw the eye upward, representing a quest for spiritual elevation and renewal, so too does the journey of healing invite individuals to rise above their pain, seeking restoration and a sense of purpose. The interplay of shadow and light within these structures mirrors the complex layers of healing, where moments of darkness often highlight the eventual emergence into clarity and hope, creating a sanctuary for reflection and rebirth.
* * *
The General Hospital fascinated me more so than the new hospital additions. One of the amenities available in GH was a beauty salon located on the fourth floor. Guess what it was called? Yes! The Fourth Floor Salon! I don't recall ever being in the salon although a stylist did come to the psychiatric unit one day to give me a haircut. Yes, I tipped her. The first floor of General Hospital offered another amenity called the Meditation Room. I would call it a chapel, but I guess that would be politically incorrect. The Meditation Room offers people a quiet place to reflect, and I assume to pray if one so chooses.
During Partial I ate three times a day in the Fountain Dining Room on first floor General Hospital. Back then it was a simple cafeteria with a few options. One evening I recall having ham loaf with mashed potatoes AND a side of french fries. Now the dining room has stations including a grill, deli, hot daily specials like chicken strips and mashed potatoes and gravy, soups, salads, and desserts. Plus, you can find pizza and sushi every day.
* * *
On first floor in a hallway in General Hospital near the cafeteria one can find a diagram of a compass inlayed into the wooden floor. I can't recall if a compass is on every level of GH, but I believe so. Follow the compass north from that spot on Level 1 and soon you'll reach Boyd Tower. Head south to reach the new parts of the hospital.
I suppose this is the part of the essay in which I make some compass metaphor about how I was lost and trying to find my way to a healthy, happy life.
Here's something that I had an AI program generate for me:
Navigating the Storm: Life is a vast ocean, and when storm clouds of doubt gather, let your compass be the values you hold dear. These guiding stars will steer you towards the calm waters of understanding and self-acceptance.
Nice, huh?
AI generated this as well:
The Detour: Sometimes, healing takes us on unexpected detours. A good map shows alternate routes, and in life, these detours can offer unexpected lessons and discoveries. Embracing the journey—even when it strays from the original path—can ultimately lead us to a more profound understanding of ourselves.
The hospital was more a part of my life than I wish it had been. But I lived to tell my story.
Dear reader, I'll leave you with some more AI generated thoughts:
Healing in a hospital with both old and new sections present a contrast in atmosphere and experience. The old section may exude a sense of history, potentially fostering nostalgia and familiarity for long-time patients, but might also be associated with outdated facilities and limited resources that could hinder recovery. In contrast, the new section likely boasts modern design, advanced technology, and comfortable amenities, contributing to a more calming and efficient healing environment. This juxtaposition highlights the evolution of healthcare practices, where innovative spaces aim to enhance patient experience and outcomes, while the older section may still evoke traditional care approaches that some may find comforting.
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