Page 52 of In a Haze

This isn’t anything new. This is what Don told me yesterday, but it doesn’t open a window to my past. So I turn to the right side of the file. There are only a few pieces of paper, but I hope they tell me what I want to know. Surely, I’m meeting with the psychiatrist on a regular basis like Joe does, and Joe has told me I attend group sessions as well—so there has to be something about that, right? But there’s not and, in fact, only one of the papers has anything on it.

There’s a red sticker at the top, about the size of the pad of my thumb. Underneath, it has only these words:

Bilateral ECT, 120v, 6s, daily for 4w; 3x wkly for 4w; 1x wkly for 4w; then PRN

Diazepam, 10 mg IV every 3h; then 10 mg QID; maintenance 10 mg QD up to QID PRN

Midazolam, 1 mg slow IV every 2m PRN

Amitriptyline, 75 mg QD; increase PRN

Trazadone, 150 mg QD

Eval PRN

Behind me, I hear Joe opening drawers on the desk. “I bet this one has something,” he says and I turn to see a drawer on the desk that he’s using his paperclips on.

I say, “This doesn’t have much of anything. No history, other than what my husband told me yesterday.”

“That sucks.” He looks up. “Isthatyour file?”

“Yes.”

“Shit. I bet everything else is on the computer. Don’t worry. If her password’s here, I’ll find it.”

I slide the file back where it goes and then close the drawer, opening the one below it. Here are someDs, and I can’t help but see the one that saysDublin, Joseph. I pull it out so he can see it if he wants. Unable to resist myself, I open it up.

The picture there looks a lot like he does now—short dark blond hair but clean shaven. What’s weird is he’s smiling. Maybe that’s due to the bipolar disorder? Underneath his picture, there’s no admissions form like mine had, which is strange, but I look to the papers on the right. There’s a green sticker there instead of red like mine and a date, followed by just a few words:by DC to obsv.

There isnothingelse.

I find that odd, but I’m not going to say anything. Joe already knows more than is in his file. I put it back but what really strikes me as odd is how some of the other folders seem fuller than mine and Joe’s. I pull one at random, someone with the last nameEllsworth. The picture inside doesn’t look familiar to me at all, but there’s a lot more paperwork in her file than mine and Joe’s. So I take another file out and look inside. This time, there’s no admissions paperwork. Instead, there’s a court order:THE PEOPLE OF THE STATE OF COLORADO, Plaintiff, v. JAMES HARRISON, Defendant. Farther down, it saysFINAL ORDER. As I glance through the document, it appears that this person was found guilty by reason of insanity and was remanded to the state for further evaluation and treatment rather than serving time in prison. So, I wonder, why doesn’t Joe’s file have one of these?

I ask before I think it through. “Joe, why would this James guy have a court order in his file and you don’t?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…most of the files here actually seem to have a lot of information in them—except for yours and mine.” And I don’t even mention the weird stickers inside. “Yours doesn’t have anything.” I shove the Harrison file back in the drawer and go back to find Joe’s folder. By now, he’s paused what he’s doing, focused solely on me. “Yours just says this weird phrase:by DC to…” I say each letter, “O-B-S-V.”

I’m struck with a memory of my husband then. It’s brief, but then I know the man named Don was telling me the truth regarding our marriage. He’s taking a cork out of a bottle of champagne, and we’re laughing. I say, “DC’s going to DC!” And then the memory’s gone.

But this is important.

By now, Joe’s standing next to me, and I can’t read his expression in the partial light. Still, I have to know. “Joe, tell me the truth. Have you ever met my husband before?”

And you know that trick I thought about earlier? The one where the tablecloth is pulled out from under you so you’re wobbly, dizzy like a goblet? That’s me when he answers.

“Yeah, I have.”

Once again, I am totally mind fucked.

19

Now I’m confused. A little nervous. I know I should be scared but Joe doesn’t frighten me.

I do feel betrayed, though. Very much betrayed.

I’m feeling an emotion. That’s weird, because I’ve felt numb for a good chunk of the day. A tear even falls from my eye. “So when it saysby DC to O-B-S-V, what does that mean? And why?”

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