Freedom of Sketch

Sounds Like a Plan

We're making "About Me" collages in Group today.

I've been here for so long that I've probably done this a dozen times. We tear pictures out of mutilated magazines and glue them on poster board in a way we can use to describe ourselves. The therapist goes easy on me since I'm so experienced at this. I spend the time by flipping through celebrity horror stories, breakups, controversies, new inventions. I learn that you should paint your whole kitchen white, but paint your front door barf green, screaming yellow, lovestruck pink, or another color that screams for attention from the Homeowner's Association.

Meredith enters the room with her clipboard pressed to her chest and approaches me. "Can we borrow you for a minute?" she whispers in my ear.

I roll my eyes at Bailey and slide my chair back.

Bailey: "What did you do this time?"

Me: "No clue."

I walk with Meredith toward Dr. Fox's office. That dog-on-a-leash feeling comes back with a vengeance. The social worker wears a lot of red today. It doesn't suit her; it overwhelms her powdery white skin and steals all of the color from her bright face.

Dr. Fox's office door gapes open, inviting us in. I smell the warm, dusty air pouring from the vents. Guess the heat's been fixed. I sit in my chair and notice another man in the room. It's Dr. Thomas, Circle Valley's bigshot dictator/medical director. I stare at him, thoroughly intimidated.

Meredith closes the door behind her and daintily sits in her usual seat, clipboard perched on her knee.

Dr. Thomas leans over to examine the records Dr. Fox has displayed across his desk. He holds a to-go cup of coffee in one hand and a fancy silver pen in the other. His gray hair is combed back from his face. He has blue eyes and very deep frown lines. I notice prominent laugh lines as well, so who knows what he feels? "How are you doing, Miss Mackenzie?" he inquires, staring at me over his large glasses.

"Just... just wondering what's going on right now," I murmur, eyes darting around the room. I play with my fingers, weaving them together, twisting them until the knuckles crack.

"Nothing bad," Dr. Fox intervenes. "We promise."

Yeah, right. My heart is already beginning to race.

Dr. Thomas continues. "You've been with us for almost a year now, and during that time, you've experienced quite a few ups and downs. How are you feeling about the way you're progressing in your recovery?"

"It could be smoother, I suppose." I slide my green Level Three bracelet up and down my arm. "But I've heard from other patients and from staff that recovery isn't just one straight road. There will be bumps along the way."

"Tell me more."

I stop fiddling with my bracelet. "Well... since I've come here, I've experienced some of my worst moments, but I've also experienced some of my best moments." I interlock my fingers again. "But all in all, it feels like I've been climbing in a positive direction."

Dr. Thomas: "That's very insightful. Has anyone ever told you how intelligent you are?"

I shrug one shoulder, slightly embarrassed. "It's come up before."

"What all have you learned?" Meredith says, pen poised above her clipboard.

I hesitate, sorting through the scattered memories, carefully handling them like shards of glass. "I've learned that it's always okay to need someone. But most of all I learned how to keep an open mind."

"How have you done that?"

I tuck my hair behind my ears and gently walk my fingertips down the curve of cartilage. I'll probably have to get everything re-pierced once I'm released. "I came in and just started labeling everyone. I was sorting them into groups: psychos, cutters, druggies, you name it. I felt like a normal person drowning in sickness. The 'craziness' was all around me. In Group, a couple of patients gave me a reality check and I started seeing the other girls as people, rather than problems."

"Shiloh," says Dr. Thomas, "that's a very brave thing to admit. I admire how you take responsibility for your actions."

I blush. "That's something I guess I learned in here."

Dr. Fox turns to the director. "As you know, Shiloh experienced a couple of severe stressors during her stay."

"Yes," he ponders, picking up my chart. "Your friend was admitted here for an eating disorder, is that correct?"

I nod.

"...And then your boyfriend was almost killed in an accident - "

" - He's my friend," I clarify. "And yes, that messed me up in a major way."

"It was traumatic," Meredith volunteers.

"Of course," says Dr. Fox.

"How are your moods now?" Dr. Thomas presses on.

Me: "Pretty much stable. I do worry constantly about my friends. I'm angry that I'm still stuck in here, especially since it's gotten so repetitive, but a part of me is afraid to go home because my mother's probably going to be the same." She was so nice during my last Day Pass, when she took me to visit Daniel. She's trying. But how long will that last? Is the beast gone, or just hibernating? I duck my head, feeling guilty for talking about her.

"But you're the one who's changed," Meredith comments. "You can't control anyone's thoughts, feelings, or actions except for your own."

The doctors nod in agreement.

I anxiously tap my foot, wanting to return to the Winter Wonderland-themed Lounge. The Styrofoam snowmen wait for me to give them top hats, faces, and teeny arms made from twigs we collected in the courtyard. I request to be excused.

Dr. Thomas gives me a hard look, then leans over to whisper something in my psychiatrist's ear. Dr. Fox nods and returns my chart to the filing cabinet. "You know, Shiloh," he muses, "you've been a great person to work with. I've seen you grow tremendously during your time here. Despite some serious challenges, you've managed to come a very long way. After all, like you said - recovery isn't a perfect process. It can be very ugly and very painful. But you've done it."

"You - you're declaring me r-recovered?" My eyes dart from face to face, all of them smiling.

"Shiloh," says Dr. Thomas, straightening his back against his chair, "how do you feel about going home?"

The air in the office crystallizes on my skin like the moisture on the windowpanes. My heart skips a beat and my breath catches in my throat. Forming words is a painful task. "N-Now?" I manage.

Meredith lets out a lighthearted laugh. "Sorry, honey. Not today. We're aiming for some time next week."

"I... I can't believe it!" I gasp.

"We're very proud of you, Shiloh," states Dr. Fox, to the agreement of the treatment team.

Me: "Will I be home in time for Christmas?"

Dr. Thomas: "Looks that way."

Meredith says she and I will work together during my remaining time to formulate a post-discharge safety plan.

After the meeting, I skip up and down the halls, my hands raised in celebration.

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Clinical Notes: 

This writer, pt's social worker, and medical director Dr. Ethan Thomas have come to a conclusion that pt has made remarkable progress in her treatment. Her last Day Pass outing was pleasant and productive. Pt takes responsibility for her actions, describes what she has learned from her admission, and actively participates in her care. She does not endorse any suicidal or homicidal thoughts or urges at this time. Mood is stable, affect appropriate to mood. Pt is now ready for discharge; Ms. Loughner will conference call with pt's mother to arrange discharge plans. Condition is stable.

ORDERS:

Orders: d/c home w/mother

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