"During my formerly frequent stays to various psychiatric facilities in NJ, I've met quite a few characters. They've ranged from scary violent psychos, to hilariously deranged schizophrenics, to the just plain bizarre. That statement also includes some of the people who worked there. Sometimes, the staff is just on the wrong side of the desk.
Needless to say, each separate hospitalization was a truly unique experience. That's right, the hospital can be fun."
During my formerly frequent stays to various psychiatric facilities in NJ, I've met quite a few characters. They've ranged from scary violent psychos, to hilariously deranged schizophrenics, to the just plain bizarre. That statement also includes some of the people who worked there. Sometimes, the staff is just on the wrong side of the desk.
Needless to say, each separate hospitalization was a truly unique experience. With all the E/N depression threads I've seen pop up, I think now is a good time to share some of the hilarity that an inpatient psych hospital can offer. That's right, the hospital can be fun.
My first hospitalization was at the age of 18, and it was voluntary, as I was suicidal and depressed over a failed relationship (yeah yeah e/n teenage angst). By voluntary, I mean I was presented the choice of A) Sign myself into Summit Hospital, a rather decent private psych facility. , or B) Be committed at Muhlenberg Regional, which is the catch man pysch hospital for my area and not exactly the nicest of wards.
My choice was obviously Summit. Summit really wasn't that bad, as far as hospitals go. The staff was mostly friendly unless you acted out, a few days into your stay you were allowed to go upstairs to the dining hall, provided you weren't completely fucked, designated smoke breaks, things like that. But what really made Summit ok was the patients. It wasn't designed for the violent psycho outburst patients I would run into later at Muhlenberg.
My first few days at Summit were mainly uneventful. There was group therapy, I learned how to play spades, and things were cool. Then came Dianne. Dianne was as paranoid a schizophrenic as they come. She was convinced the US Govt had turned her into a lesbian nun, which was odd, considering her boyfriend would visit her throughout her stay in the hospital.
We all pretty much learned to ignore her ranting and kind of walk away from her once she got going. Apparently, Dianne did not deal well with lack of attention. One day after lunch, all the Status 2's (those allowed to leave the wing and go upstairs to eat) were returning back into the wing to get our allotted two cigs for our after lunch smoke break. As the door opens, we heard screaming, singing and laughter all at once.
It seems Dianne had decided a great way to get attention would be to run around the wing completely naked while singing opera. The wing was small, so it only took the staff about 2-3 minutes to cut her off and finally subdue her. Even after her subsequent capture and injection of Ativan (Summit’s number one choice to chill us out), Dianne could still be heard singing from the confines of the quiet room for a good amount of time.
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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The Comedy Goldmine examines the funniest and most creative threads from the Something Awful Forums. Although the Comedy Goldmine has changed authors many times over the years, its focus on the Something Awful Forums is still the same. Includes hilarious Photoshops, amusing work stories, parodies, and other types of oddball humor.