Diary Of A Mental Patient

DIARY OF A MENTAL PATIENT

I had been told that it was a lovely, warm, summers day outside, the sky was extremely blue with fluffy mash potato clouds floating along without a care in the world. This meant absolutely nothing to me as I lay on the bed staring up at the flaky blue ceiling, I could count cracks into double figures as they ran from one side to the other. They really must get some decorators in to sort this out.

Right, firstly you’re thinking “Where the hell are you?” and secondly you’re thinking “What!”
I know, it’s crazy, bizarre, even pure stupid, but stick with it.

I heard the key go into the lock (no, guess again this isn’t prison), and then in walked the beautiful sight of matron, her big, sorry huge...no...no...no, extremely fat, large frame waddling over to the comfy, I mean steel framed, hard bed I was laying on, in her hand she had a bloody great needle, which she gently shoved into my buttock. Pretty good going, seeing as I was on my back, I am still trying to figure out how she managed that one. Soon after I felt the warm glow come over me and then, then......

I woke up in the day room thinking “What the hell happened there” then I realised that Frank had just beaten me at draughts, it’s a bit of a nightmare playing board games when your under medication, not just because you lose, but because the dribble and drool that oozes from your mouth during “game time” makes your counters stick to the board. Frank had another unfair advantage, his medication was 5 milligrams weaker than mine, therefore it did not last as long and whilst I dribble enough saliva to perform the institutions best impression of the Niagara Falls, he was able to swap all my counters round, slap his little hand on the table and take the red crayon we were playing for (I lost a blue and yellow last week, if things keep going like this, I’ll be broke at this rate).

The bell rang and I realised it was “Art Time”, great, fantastic, I love art time, though I did drink a pot of blue paint last week, so I have been placed on Paint Watch by the wardens. Slightly unfair as I noticed that Mad Doris, she is bonkers, found a novel way to use the large paint brush, I won’t go into detail, suffice to say a surgeon and a lot of painkillers helped the removal procedure along nicely.

I got up from the chair by the draughts board and then promptly fell forward and smashed my face on the tiled floor. It then dawned on me that the medication had not fully worn off, the effects start to disappear quickly, but from the head down. In my dazed, high state I had forgotten that most important point. My legs had not yet recovered and although my brain noticed I was going down, little panic alarms going off all over the place, my little arms unfortunately were unable to help in the cushioning of the fall as they too were still under the influence. I lay on the floor listening to Boris in the wheelchair cackle himself silly, so much so he urinated inside his trousers. I got told off for making him laugh by the warden, a bit harsh I say due to the fact my legs were on holiday at the time I decided to walk, but never mind. I would like to add that it does not take a lot for Boris to urinate inside his trousers, he passed wind and coughed at the same time whilst having dinner once, the resulting puddle on the floor was evidence that those two things should never, ever be combined, especially by someone who has a bladder problem, but still I got the blame for Boris’ fourth trouser change of the day.

One nose bleed later and I was sitting in the art room, again slightly unfair as my arms were only just recovering and the vase I was supposed to be drawing looked like something out of an etch-a-sketch. I looked over at the other side of the class room, there was Frank triumphantly waving the red crayon he had won at draughts, I tried to stick two fingers up, but unfortunately due to the spasms in my arm I ended up poking myself in the eye, then for the next five minutes could not see where the vase I was supposed to be drawing was. It’s pretty disconcerting when you try to stick two fingers up straight and they decide “No we are going to the right” and then you’re inside your eye socket. Fifth trouser change for Boris, accompanied by a tut from the warden. “Not my fault” I protested to the warden, eye watering, unable to see. Then I realised I was talking to the coat rack. All in all I was having a bad day.

Art time normally lasts about an hour then it’s time for lunch, today consisted of boiled potatoes, fish fingers and peas. Always a favourite of mine, the boiled potatoes, because even though by this time my arms are back to a normal level, some of the other patients are still recovering from their medication. I looked around the table, Boris had been given some plastic sheeting which had been placed neatly underneath his chair, Frank was crying because he had lost the red crayon he had won from me earlier, I found at later that he had a bet with Big John. The bet had been that if Frank could eat the red crayon in under one minute he could keep it. Frank ate it in twenty-five seconds so he was able to keep it, oh, oh how unfortunate. I think it’s fair to say that Frank hadn’t actually thought that bet through too well. Forward thinking Frankie boy, a bit more forward thinking.

Now, where was I, oh yes, fun time with potatoes at lunch. Well, you see a lot of the other patients are still recovering from their medication, if you cast your minds back a moment to my “stick my fingers up, oh no I’ll poke myself in the eye first” incident then it will not take too much imagination to figure out what happens, if, whilst under the influence of the medication, you try to put a boiled potato onto your fork. Amazing results, the potato casualty list ran into double figures, Boris passed enough urine to fill a reservoir and by the end of lunch the whole red crayon incident was taking an effect on Frank, who was now banging his head on the table, quite hard. Mad Doris, on hearing this banging stated that she did not like the new hip-hop style music, until it was pointed out to her the radio wasn’t on. She just sat there and stared into thin air, the lights were on, but the burglars were in. I believe confusion is an illness.

I tip-toed round the potato massacre on the floor towards the library area, as I walked in the normal group were gathered around the centre table, The Colonel, Little Joe (he was seven foot tall and his name was Barry, don’t ask I don’t know), Mouse, Gripper (not because he was strong, more to do with a private pastime he participated in, on his own) and Crazy Colin.

Every time at this day you would find this group gathered around the table, they were affectionately known as The Escape Group, The Colonel though had been the only one to make it successfully out. Well, when I say successfully out, he made it from the library to the main exit gate leading out of the institute into the staff areas (where we are all allowed), asked one of the staff to be let through, was refused and returned to the library area to a massive round of applause for his efforts. Yes, that is considered a success in here.

I walked by the table, Little Joe stood up and greeted me, “Hello Barry” I replied, he nodded, shook my hand and sat back down, tragically he had forgotten to pull his chair in and the sound of his backside bouncing off the floor echoed through the library. Instantly there was a chorus of “Sssshhhhh”, followed by the distant laughing of Boris as he was wheeled off by the warden. Trouser change number six for Boris today. I looked over to the other warden on duty, he was shaking his head at me, apparently that was my fault as well. I seriously need to be out the way when Boris gets going. I sat down with the rest of the group, Little Joe, I mean Barry, went to sit down on a chair that wasn’t there again so I quickly slid it underneath him and mission accomplished.

Probably best to point out that Barry has short term memory and as this was The Escape Group, you can appreciate he was a bit of a weak link in any plans they made. Barry’s sleeping pattern is a constant worry to the wardens, due to the fact he forgets that he fell asleep and instantly wakes up.
I am an unofficial member of The Escape Group, I have never tried to escape and neither have I come up with a plan. The only reason I join the meeting is to humour myself. The other week Barry was given an escape plan, six times, then promptly forgot what was happening and watched The Wizard Of Oz on television for the tenth time, a film he says he has never seen before.

Mouse stared at me from the other side of the table, he was called mouse because he was very quiet and ate a lot of cheese. The Colonel was the leader of the group, he had extensive military experience, he was forty years of age and only last week he was telling me how he stormed a German trench during World War One, on his own.

Remember I did say The Colonel was forty years of age, now my maths aren’t as good as they should be but I decided that if The Colonel was involved in World War One then that would make him...erm...completely mad. Gripper (I had reason to slap him twice after sitting down for doing something nasty under the table) was the scrounger, anything the group wanted he tried to obtain. Then there was Crazy Colin, he got that name because his name was Colin and he was a crazy. If that was hard to understand I can explain it again. No, ok then we’ll move swiftly on.

The Colonel, in a hushed tone, explained that he had something very important to say, he had a plan for The Escape Group and that plan was that during exercise time in the garden outside, the group would.....he looked around to make sure nobody was looking.

“Escape,” he said.

Ingenious, I thought, I mean there is no point in being called The Escape Group if you’re not going to plan an escape. I can see why he was the leader. He detailed his plan, he said that he had been in contact with his, “contact” on the outside and that he had arranged for a helicopter to hover over the garden during exercise time, a rope would then be dropped down and at that point whilst Barry with the short term memory distracted the wardens, (If not already I can see a major flaw in the plan) the rest of us would climb up the rope, into the helicopter and fly away. Barry nodded, looked at me and greeted me again, he stood up, shook my hand and then we went through the whole I push the chair in and he sits back down procedure again.

Everyone agreed the plan was a good idea, Barry was nodding and then on the tenth explanation later it was agreed that Barry possibly wasn’t the best person to distract the guards. Just for my own personal sense of humour I volunteered to distract the wardens. This was going to be interesting.

Exercise time came and I stood against the wall whilst The Escape Group gathered in the middle of the yard, I could see The Colonel glancing down at his watch, Barry had a rope tied round his waist, the other end was attached to Crazy Colin. Now and again Barry would go to wander off, the rope would tug and he walked back to the group, greeted everyone, shook their hand and then a few moments later he would wander off again, the rope would.....you can see the pattern.

So I waited and waited, I waited a bit more then after about half hour I waited a little longer. The group were still in the middle of the yard, Barry was still trying to wander off, Gripper had performed his normal activity five times whilst they were standing there (I take it you get the Gripper nickname now), then and I don’t know how to describe this but over the top of the main hall a helicopter appeared, my mouth dropped open and I saw the group heading towards the rope. Stunned I forgot my distraction job, then shaking myself out of the shock I drop kicked a warden who was running towards the rope. I could see everyone clambering into the helicopter and I decided that no matter how bizarre this was I had to make it to the rope.

I ran towards the rope and as I caught hold of the bottom, I looked up and saw Barry climbing down, the rope tugged and Barry climbed back up again. Eventually I felt the helicopter rising and as I reached the opening to this unexpected surprise a big hand came out and I grabbed it heaving myself up, I looked over and saw Gripper had helped me and immediately rubbed my hand down the back of my trousers.

I sat in the helicopter which then flew off over the institute and away off into the distance.
This was quite unbelievable, I could not quite comprehend what was actually going on. Barry was strapped to the seat, Crazy Colin was beginning to complain, which wasn’t a good thing and The Colonel repeatedly shouted “Tally-Ho” as we sped off into the distance. I leaned towards him and asked.

“How did you manage this?”

“Special Forces during my time in the Vietnam War, dear boy.”

The Vietnam War, right, ok this was getting a little crazy, but I could not deny that we were out and we were in a, in a....we were in a bloody helicopter! The Colonel leaned forward to me.

“This reminds me of the time I led a charge during the Crimean War on a Russian forward post.”

“I didn’t know they had helicopters during the Crimean War,” I replied.

“Of course they did, dear boy. How do you think we won the Battle Of The Bulge.”

I thought for a moment and from my limited knowledge of history I worked out that The Battle of the Bulge was in World War Two. I decided to point this out.

“The Battle Of The Bulge was in World War Two, not the Crimean War.”

The Colonel slapped me on the back.

“Of course it was, dear boy. That’s what I said.”

I was beginning to wonder if I would be safer back at the institution or with these crazy people. Now, where we were going? I am sure I would find out soon enough.

I looked out at the blue sky with the fluffy clouds breezing by.

It was correct what I had been told, it was a lovely day.