Fresh, New Winds at The Mental Institution in Elephant Architecture

I am finally rested after using some much needed Sick Leave. The new Mental Health Worker, A_, is quickly becoming a favourite of the more sensible workers. My first impression I had of him after we began getting to know each other was, “He’s one of us,” like Cleavon Little from Blazing Saddles. He seems to have high Emotional Intelligence and a good sense of humour. These are two key attributes to possess when working with the mentally ill. And, personally, my own English literature experience has come in quite handy. I tend to see, I was informing him, an actor or poet when the patient’s act out or I see a play taking place rather than a more negative, or fatalistic light. Actors and poets out of jobs or B-movies that come on late on the SciFi channel. Last night, Mr. E_ and I had the talk with A_. Occasionally this happens and we sit around and tell stories about the patients and their histories, plus, our own experiences working with them. Being creative, as most with a good sense of humour are, comes in very handy with Mental Health. And A_ is quickly catching on. The more lucid patients do still have the natural urge to be liked, and finding their quirks somehow amusing in a kind, brotherly sense comes in handy. Laughter is a universal language. The average worker has a difficult time dealing with the patients when they begin raving and jabbering about nonsense. It freaks the average person out. Personally, I find myself enjoying the insanity sometimes in my boredom. My creative writer mind clicks over and I am engulfed in the nonsensical world the mentally ill are attempting to convey. I could put Patient S_ in a sophisticated suit, put him on stage and tell the audience he was an eccentric poet and the audience may never know the difference. I’ll be doing my checks and passing by his room and overhear his very serious conversation over an imaginary phone that goes something like, “The President has ordered a banana by airplane for his elephant!” and I am transported to a very amusing hallway in the White House. But that is during his less lucid moments. Generally, he reacts well when you work with him on simple tasks like doing the laundry or sometimes just making sure he feels less alone, has a support group of folks who care about him and he’ll snap into a much more social persona, like I said, sometimes eccentric and hilarious with intent to be so, and to be liked. I honestly feel that Patient S_ would thrive in a Group Home setting with someone working with him. Sometimes I feel that his creative, eccentric qualities are mistaken for schizophrenia. He has on multiple occasions spoken more reasonably than some of the actual Staff there. That is a trip to experience: when the mental patients speak more reasonably than the powers that be like a voice of reason in some cases. I have personally noticed that he will snap out of his less lucid moments with attention and Quality Time. His less lucid times are harmless and remind me more of my little brother, as children, playing with his imaginary friends or stuffed animals.

The murderers we tend to are an exceptionally interesting anomaly. They tend to be the best behaved, the cleanest, quietest and most at peace with their predicaments. R_ is a personal favourite. I make it a point to say good morning to him during my checks. He has a kind, gentle disposition and reminds me of the Alabama, country, huntin’ and fishin’ good ole boy I have taken up with in other travels of mine throughout the South. I didn’t even have to read his file and one morning he confessed to me his crime. He very solemnly, and calmly admitted to me that one day, in his early 20s, he walked into his grandparents home and bludgeoned his grandmother to death with a driving iron. I was slightly a-taken a-back to his blunt yet accepting-of-consequences confession. Back then, I was still sort of shocked and uneasy that I would be spending my days in a room with these folks without any restraints between us just like talking to someone at a high school reunion. Thrown off, I asked, “W…w…was she abusive?” and he replied calmly, “No, she was a nice lady. I had a psychotic break one day”. He has been institutionalized since before I was born. We talk about music like AC/DC, and a few mornings ago he showed me pictures of himself hunting and fishing back then with his wife who reminded me of my ex-girlfriend’s mother in those Alabama 80’s styles with their lives so fresh and new set out before them so similar to my other friends down here. Someone I could see myself going camping with on the beautiful southern Alabama State Parks. He showed me a picture of his daughter who is out there somewhere who reminded me of my own ex-girlfriend from a similar place in time.

Last updated March 14, 2024