Walking in Circles (7?)

 "Emily, what time is breakfast?"

"8:00am, same as every other day."

"Sean, how long until breakfast?"

"Ummm... just 30 more minutes bud."

"Dorsey, can I have a snack?"

"Snack time is an hour and a half after breakfast, you know that."

I looked at the clock, 7:30am, confirming every nurse in the building was being honest. The stoplight was unplugged, they must've finally realized I figured out how they were using time to manipulate me. Using the concept of time to get your way is a real dick move, but I suppose it was their last trick left. Now even the clock was unable to lie to anyone. 

Breakfast was more of the same. The few patients who still thought I was the second coming of Christ attempted to let me cut them in line, the few who still thought I was the Antichrist attempted to keep me from eating, Rose and Shailah still thought they could copy my antics in order to get more ice cream. Everyone else was getting as much apple juice as they were allowed because they know all too well how much I enjoy my juice and that I probably won't eat my ice cream. 

Francesca was yelling at everyone in front of me, "Ya'll mothafuckas know he can only get one ice cream so just get your food and get the fuck out of the way I'm hungry!"

I ate my usual eggs and bacon with apple juice, handed my ice cream over to Michael in exchange for more juice, and was ready to go back to my room to read the paper and "go to sleep" until snack time. Emily was my 1-to-1 nurse for the time being, and informed me I really should wait a few more minutes for group therapy. 

"What the fuck is group therapy? I've been here a week and a half, we've never done group therapy", I stated. 

"Well we're doing it today, it's more of an announcement. You'll see. One of the nurses from the other wing is leading it. Her name is Sylvia."

'Oh and let me guess her middle name is Ester and last name Stalone? No... no no no no, don't say that, shit like that is why I'm here. Stupid fucking coincidences...'

A large black woman came into the dining room and introduced herself, I'd never seen her before but she had a very welcoming appearance and tone. She began updating the announcements on the white board. 'Shower time 8:30 to 10:30, laundry time 11:00 to 12:00, mandatory nap time 12:30 until bed time; and she wrote a new 'message of the day'.

You are incredibly special. God has made you extremely unique for a reason. No matter what anyone says, don't let anyone change what's in your heart.

'Hmmmm... Alright, I'll stay and see what this is all about. But if we start praying I'm out.'

Sylvia started her speech, "I want everyone to know that everyone in this room has been touched by God in one way or another. And our special guest who's been visiting the hospital will be leaving soon." 

'Jesus fucking Christ, this isn't helping with the whole Antichrist rumor floating around.'

"But one way or another, we can still learn as much as we can, so for the rest of the day everyone can enjoy unlimited board game time, outside access, and TV privileges, to include the news and American Dad."

'FINALLY! I can finally find out if President Trump is in jail and if Ghislaine Maxwell died by suicide in an empty cell with no working cameras. Fuck it's happening again; I sound crazy don't I?'

Sylvia continued, glaring at me and only me; "and last but not least, we have some new rules that EVERYONE needs to follow, especially YOU:

1. You must not interfere with any other patients mental healthcare, no matter what. You can still talk to your friends, but under no circumstances will you impact their progress as a patient. We all owe that to each other. 
2. Today is 'No-Fall Friday', meaning that NO ONE is allowed to fall down. If you need to 'go to sleep' for any reason, you need to lie down as slowly and carefully as possible. Once you're 'asleep', a nurse or tech will come help you if you're unable to get up on your own. "

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Sylvia gave me a lot to think about as I finished my bacon. I nodded solemnly to Emily as I retreated to my room to read the paper. The sports section was titled "The Great Unknown", about Rob Gronkowski and Tom Brady starting regular practice for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers with the Super Bowl being hosted in Tampa later in the season. (The Great Unknown... can't find the link but... cute. I've emailed the TB Times so I can quote the article because there are a lot of homosexual innuendos in the article and I honestly can't tell if they are tongue-in-cheek or unintentional coincidences)

The next article I noticed was an article about cats in the Life and Culture section (https://www.tampabay.com/life-culture/pets/2020/08/31/cole-and-marmalade-back-online-after-cat-lawsuit-is-settled/). The story was about two cats, Cole and Marmalade, two apparently famous cats in the Bay Area. 

"They’re back, they’re still cute and their owners can again legally post as many photos of their frisky antics as they want.”

Apparently, a lawsuit prevented the cats' owners from posting pictures of the cats to social media. They settled out of court, and the digital media company seemed to have folded because of the amount of money they were losing over two cats. The cats are now allowed back on Instagram and Facebook, to much relief of everyone. 

"It’s great to be back,” said Josephs, who sits on the board of two Tampa Bay cat rescues. “I was upset with us not being able to make videos at a time when people needed to watch silly cat videos the most. The world needed that."

I suddenly stopped caring about watching the news or American Dad, and wondered if my wife had found any new kittens to foster after Finn's untimely death. There are no coincidences in the universe.

I clipped the two headlines out of the paper (The Great Unknown and Cole and Marmalade back online  after cat lawsuit settled) and taped them to the hospital's front desk. Then I changed my behavior, following my discovery that an increase in randomness results in a decrease in one's ability to be manipulated; whether it be by hunger, new rules, or a clock and stoplight on the wall. 

"Emily, I can't think very well while standing still, I'm just gonna pace back in forth in the hallway while I think of ideas for a book I'm writing." She said that's a great idea; as long as she could see me and I'm not behind any closed doors she could just sit at her computer while I walked the hall. 

I began a stroll from my room towards the locked door to the discharge desk where my wedding ring was stored in a safe and led to my ticket to get the fuck out of here. I reread the cheap plaque on the door for the hundredth time, and about-faced while considering the riddle once more. 

To leave hospital:
1. Approach door, it is locked.
2. Turn around. 

3. Ensure no patients are within line of sight.

4. Swipe YOUR identification badge.

5. Make a royal exit.

6. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. UNEXPECTED ELOPEMENT IS POSSIBLE UNTIL RETRIEVING BELONGINGS FROM SECURITY. (Security had my Wedding Ring locked in a safe at the discharge desk, it took me a while to figure out what that cryptic 6th step meant until I met my fake wife a few days prior).

As I got closer to the door, an orderly from another wing approached the door from the other side, swiped her ID badge, and let herself into my hallway. I glanced over my shoulder, the patients were still in Group Therapy (Fuck yeah. Let's do this and peace out now.) The orderly smiled and gave me The Queen's Wave and I was very prepared to slip through the door behind her.

"WILLIAM! WHERE ARE YOU GOING!?" Emily shouted from down the hall. Two other nurses began running towards me, security from the discharge desk was on the move as well. 

"Well you told me I'm leaving today, there are no patients in sight, the door is open, I saw the Queen's wave, what am I doing wrong?"

Emily stammered. "It's... it's just not time yet. Just trust me, you need another appointment with the psychiatrist. If it doesn't go well, I promise you'll be out of here by tonight. You can still pace... just not by the door." 

I realized I had gained one last and final trick: Walking in Circles. "Hey Emily can I go outside? I thought it was No-Fail Friday. I mean No-Fall Friday.

"Of course you can, but you know when you do that all the other patients are going to stop watching Fresh Prince of Bel Air and want to go outside with you. It's 92° outside, so that wouldn't be my first choice, but go for it. I'm about to switch with Dorsey so he'll be your 1-to-1 for a few hours." (A 1-to-1 patient requires a nurse or tech to be in constant visual contact with a patient, even while asleep, even while showering, 24/7, due to increased suicide or self harm risks. In retrospect I should not have been the only patient on the 1-to-1 list in the entire hospital. That should not be possible.)

"Awesome, thanks. I really just want to read while getting sunlight and exercise." 

I went to the book cart and picked out a very short paperback titled Happiness and Living Sober that I had found it a few days back and had been hiding inside of a Book of Mormon for future use. I had no reason to read it, but I did have a purpose for it. It was in the order of 30 pages and the title took up most of the cover, so anyone paying attention could tell exactly what I was reading; hopefully Francesca would follow me outside and catch on quickly. She was by far the smartest patient, despite her addictions and profanity, which really made me consider life and it's circumstances. No matter how smart you are, no matter how resourceful; life has separate degrees of difficulty. That fact will never evade you; but every Civil Rights movement, every abolishment of archaic laws, every protest or riot in the name of fairness pushes the world in the right direction. And no matter the circumstances you face, white or black or drug addicted or not, society is no match for the lengths of time once we all agree to give up manipulating the system. It took me a week in a mental institution for my white-washed brain to realize that me manipulating the system usually ended with the same result as pure honesty and changing my behavior until something worked. And eventually, something always worked. 

"Heyyyyyyyy bitch you going outside!? Fuck American Dad man let's go!" Frankie said as Dorsey unlocked the courtyard door. 

"I'm just gonna read and walk in circles Frankie, you don't have to come outside if you don't want to."

"Fuck that man you and I are running this place for the rest of the day! I'm following you. I wanna know what that book says. I'll just sit quietly while you're reading in circles."

"Walking in circles." I quickly corrected her. Frankie, Dorsey, and I went out to the narrow courtyard and I started a little holding pattern, tripled the drift, and adjusted my walking speed until each lap was about a minute long. Quick math revealed about 200 laps until I could finally get past that stupid door at 12:30 and then I'd just have to avoid every fake wife between there and my real wife who'd likely be picking me up in three or four hours. 

"So you're just gonna walk?" Dorsey asked, clearly bored already.

"Yup. In circles. 198 left. It helps me think while I read."

"I thought you weren't addicted to anything. Also what happened to watching the news?"

"I'm not but that's not why I'm reading it. And I already read the news, the sports page told me everything I need to know."

A Latino patient came out grabbed the basketball, and invited me to shoot hoops. Even after a week I still never caught his name, but I'd occasionally chat and trade ice cream in exchange for juice or Oreos. I always felt bad for the patients who seemed totally normal but were involuntarily committed here just like I was. I wonder what crucial mistake they made to their family, to law enforcement, to a nurse in the ER, or whoever in order to deserve being locked up. People like him are why I steadily stopped minding being locked up myself, if my experience could just prevent one person from being committed unnecessarily with some slap-dick diagnoses, it'd be worth my time writing this. If I was able to change state laws and medical literature based on the heavy documentation of my shitshow of a case, I might even be okay with sacrificing flying. Even those with bipolar disorders can fly as passengers, assuming I still have access to money.  

"Sorry man, I'm not really in the mood for shooting hoops. I'm just walking in circles and reading for the time being, but if the ball bounces my way I'll take a shot." He smiled, and kept playing. 

"DORSEY WHAT THE FUCK!? YOU AIN'T EVEN WATCHING HIM! You dumb mothafucker you're just playing on your phone you ain't watching shit man! Will ain't on suicide watch we all know sure-as-shit this white dude ain't gonna off yourself so why the fuck are ya'll pretending he is!?" Frankie had another violent mood swing. She started shaking and climbing on picnic tables. 

Emily and Sylvia came running out. "Frankie do you need to go to sleep!? We can make you go to sleep... you need to stop thinking about William and think about yourself and your progress. Don't forget it's No-Fall Friday."

"FUCK that shit! A washed up pregnant crackhead should not be the only person in this whole fucking hospital who knows he doesn't fucking belong here. Who else is like him in here!? The longer he's here the longer 50 fucking nurses have to pull 18 hour shifts and the more the real patients start to realize we all just human beings except one fucking doctor who's the DEVIL!" Frankie always made very good points, sometimes better than I could, but articulation and coherence is a key factor in being taken seriously and unfortunately most patients, no matter how right or wrong, could not articulate any bullshit or any bias. Even I was unable to do that. And that observation should be taken with significant wait. 

"Frankie why don't you just go to sleep on that picnic table, and we'll all leave you alone. It'll just be William and Dorsey and Emily and whoever else wants to come outside."

"Oh yeah so the white military pilot dude walking around reading a book on sobriety is the dude you gotta keep an eye on. Makes no sense to me but fuck it I'll just lay down then." And she laid down on the picnic table in the shade and 'went to sleep' - silent, eyes closed, calm, motionless.

Another patient came outside once things calmed down. He was black and athletic. I never got his name either, but that was mainly because I never heard him talk. I don't know if he didn't talk for mental health reasons (e.g. nonverbal), or if he was mute, or what his situation was; but he was quiet and moved slowly and deliberately. He came outside, nodded silently towards me, I nodded back while walking, and he slowly sat down in the middle of the courtyard on the hot pavement closing his eyes. 

No-Fall Friday. I finally understood it: Protest. Safe, calm, concise, articulate protest. And I was unable to do anything about it because Sylvia made it very clear I was not to interfere with anyone's mental healthcare. But I may have fucked it up. I decided to walk in circles in the hot sun on the hot pavement instead of just watching the news about riots and racism and police brutality like Sean and Emily expected me to do all day. That's the problem with changing your behavior randomly and doing things so drastically out of character, it can just as easily hurt your cause. 

Time will truck on however, and if you have the right conditions can always think of a solution to bring it full circle in a timely manner. Frankie was lying on a picnic table in the shade, I passed her once per lap which was once per minute. The silent protester was dead center in the narrow courtyard, so I passed him twice per lap or every 30 seconds. And even though I wasn't allowed to interfere, I could still talk to my friends and even offer help. 

"Hey man, you okay? You look a little hot down there on the pavement." He didn't move. I kept walking 

"Hey man you thirsty? I can get you some cold water." He didn't move. I continued on. 

"Hungry? I can probably get snack time moved up an hour or two." Nothing. 

"Will you at least tell me if you need anything at any point when I walk past you?" He opened his eyes, narrowed and blinded by morning sun, and he sternly nodded. Then I left him alone for the rest of the day. Two hours later a pair of nurses picked him up and moved him to the sofa in the day room. That was the last I ever saw of him. 

On to Frankie. She could only stay silent on the picnic table for a few laps before sitting up and following me as I walked in circles. She was crying, slapping the top of her head, clearly distressed; but she was on the other side of the courtyard from Dorsey, and as she wasn't on a 1-to-1, nobody but me could see at the time her level of frustration at the healthcare system, the laws, racism, everything wrong with the country. 

"It's all just fucking bullshit." She said with her face buried into her hands. "You can't even get out of here. They tell you you'll be home by lunchtime, then they change the only clock in the building. If they can trick you and fuck up your life, what chance do the rest of us have? What chance do the prostitutes and addicts and poor single mothers have?"

"I know, but I have a feeling change is coming. Have you noticed the stop light right next to the clock?And how it's always on the green light?"

"Yeah but it's not even green anymore, sometimes it's red but now it's just dark. I fucking hate it they just use it to fuck with our minds," she said. She started walking slower to delay passing Dorsey, who was probably only pretending to not pay attention rather than actually neglecting patients who were clearly either protesting or desperately trying to understand the answers to why. I kept our pace brisk, so that especially Dorsey, Sylvia, and Emily could hear our conversation. 

"I think the stoplight is so the nurses can tell what time it is," I explained. "The green light means it's ticking like normal, red means the clock is stopped, and you won't get any closer to lunch or snack time until it's back to green when everyone is back on good behavior. I don't know what the yellow means, I've never seen it. I called them out on that retarded stoplight yesterday; it's been unplugged since."

Dorsey put his phone in his pocket and gave me stern look. "WILLIAM. What are you doing, man!? You know you can't interfere with the patients care. You need to SHUT UP."

"What? You know I like conspiracy theories. I'm just Talking in Circles."