Page 12 of Ward D
“Don’t worry, Miguel,” Dr. Beck says.
The man gives us all a long look, then he turns around and walks away, down the hall. His steps are slow and shuffling, like he doesn’t quite know where he’s going and he’s certainly not in a hurry to get there.
“Is he leaving tomorrow?” Cam asks.
“Oh no,” Dr. Beck says. “Definitely not. But if I disagree with him, he’ll go back to his room and call 911. Easier to avoid that situation.”
“Why was he wearing like four T-shirts?” Cam wants to know.
Dr. Beck sighs. “We need to supervise him better when he gets dressed.”
I wrap my white coat tighter around my chest. “What was he talking about? With his father?”
“Oh.” Dr. Beck shrugs. “He thinks his father is God.”
His words sent chills down my spine, but Cam laughs. “So he’s a schizophrenic then?”
“No.” Dr. Beck frowns. “He’s not ‘a schizophrenic.’ We don’t refer to patients that way. Miguel is a human being, and he’s more than his psychiatric diagnosis. He is not a schizophrenic—he’s amanwho has schizophrenia. Do you understand that?”
Cam’s face turns slightly pink. “Right. Of course. Sorry.”
But then when Dr. Beck turns away, Cam flashes me a conspiratorial smile and rolls his eyes in my direction. I don’t smile back. I really appreciated what Dr. Beck said—it’s similar to what Dr. Sleepy has said. The patients locked in this unit are human beings just like everyone else. A mental health diagnosis is not a death sentence. All the patients in this unit are just trying to get better.
I will make it through the night. Everything will be fine.
7
Next Dr. Beck shows us the staff lounge, which is right next to the entrance, and he wanders off to give us a minute to put our food in the fridge.
The staff lounge is bare-bones. There’s one sofa that looks worse than the one Gabby and I rescued from the curb last year, and that is saying alot. There’s a single computer in the corner of the room which looks like the kind of computer I used to see in pictures of my parents’ house before I was born. Next to the ancient computer is a window. If I had any thoughts in my head about trying to get some fresh air, those thoughts are immediately banished by the set of bars covering the window.
Cameron yanks open the refrigerator door so we can stash our dinners inside. The refrigerator looks like it hasn’t been cleaned out since sometime in the last century. There is a brown crusty film all over every surface, and to fit my dinner inside, I have to push away a carton of milk that feels like it’s become mostly solid. I don’t dare throw anything away though.
Hmm, could this be some sort of psychological experiment? Maybe somebody’s watching us with cameras to see if someone will clean out this disgusting refrigerator?
Cameron holds up his phone, jabbing at the screen. “There’s no service at all around here.”
In spite of the fact that the guy dumped mefor a test, I try to help him out anyway. “Gabby said there’s reception right by the window.”
I follow her instructions and walk right up to the window. I press my phone against the cool surface, and sure enough, a single bar appears on the screen. Then a second. Two bars of reception—woo hoo!
Before the bars can disappear on me, I punch in a message to Gabby:
Arrived on Ward D. You didn’t tell me Dr. Beck was so cute!
The message goes through, but a second later, the bars vanish. Just as well, because Dr. Beck is waiting for us.
Dr. Beck is flipping through a chart when we get back to the nurses’ station. He looks up and smiles when he sees us.
“So your job for tonight,” he says, “is to be available to help out in case of any emergencies on the unit. But other than that, you are here to learn.”
“That sounds great!” Cameron says with the enthusiasm of a child who was told he’s going to Disneyland.
“But here’s the bad news,” Dr. Beck says. “The computer system is undergoing maintenance tonight. So tonight we have to rely on paper charts and paper orders only.”
That’s okay by me. I have a login for the computer system, but I’ve never even tried it yet. If my recent luck is any indication, an extended conversation with IT will be required before I get it to work.
Dr. Beck gestures at a rack of thick blue binders lined up on a shelf above the nurses’ station. “Those are the paper charts. What I would recommend for the night is for you to read up on a couple of patients and interview them. Learn as much as you can about them and follow them overnight.”
