So then I was sitting there, in the psychiatric emergency room! What was happening, how did I end up here? I wasn’t alone, Little A was there. I couldn’t deal with the other patients waiting, so I focused on Little A. She was looking good, wearing a fur. She had the straightest back I had ever seen, as she was sitting there clutching her purse. She probably found it as unpleasant being there, as I did. There was a teenage girl who wasn’t feeling well. Her mother tried comforting her. I focused on Little A.
It became my turn. They drew my blood and measured my blood pressure. I was oblivious. The doctor asked a lot of questions, I heard myself speak, but I don’t know if I answered the right questions. I didn’t wanna be there! I wanted to go away, I didn’t care where, I just wanted to leave. Some snails were there. Not many, but enough. They were usually living in my fridge, but sometimes they got out. A porter came to take me to the ward. Little A came with me. We were in the living room waiting. I didn’t think it was possible, but Little A’s back seemed even straighter now. She was sitting on the couch, even though she was barely touching it. But she was there. She was there for me. I was touched and grateful.
I was shown to the room that I had to share with two other women. They were there, but didn’t introduce themselves. I didn’t care. I sat down on my bed. It had been difficult watching Little A leave without me, but she wasn’t allowed to stay. The doctor promised me, I only had to stay in this ward until there was room somewhere else. I went out for a smoke. There was a fence around the balcony. I was trapped and there were snails there. I smoked greedily and tried so hard to hold back my tears.
That night I didn’t sleep. The woman in the bed next to me was snoring so loudly that the walls were vibrating. However, that wasn’t why I couldn’t sleep. I was afraid. Afraid of what was happening to my brain, afraid of my surroundings and afraid of myself. I wasn’t sure I could do this. The next morning everything was just as horrible as it had been the night before. The ward was awful. Every wall had its own hideous colour. My eyes couldn’t find peace. The others looked at me. I could feel it, but I couldn’t cope. I wanted to go home, but I wasn’t allowed. You need peace and quiet, they said. Yes, I thought and missed my peaceful apartment with white walls.
After a few days, I was moved to a stress-ward, where I got my own room. Hallelujah! The colours were light and friendly and there were no fences. I was received with kindness, and I started talking to some of the others on the first day. Everything was gonna be alright.
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