Hospital Days
(preliminary)
Background
Because of my psychological problems, I ended up confined to mental hospitals several times in my life. The first one happened after my several early years in psychoanalysis. Some of my relatives blamed my psychoanalyst - but I did not although there was the possibility of strong medications which, as an analyst (not a psychiatrist) he did not believe in. He believed only by facing my darkest fears would I really get better (NOTE: read Dean Koontz's "Cold Fire" for a very accurate depiction of this concept.)
I'm not sure which choice would have been better, but I know a lot about myself now and the analysis worked in order to overcome two phobias I had as well as cure my sexual hang-up. So I had many wonderful relationships with some lovely women. And I have had a relatively good life in spite of on and off depressions. But my fear of commitment remained with me. And even though I did eventually marry, it was not a very wise choice and ended in divorce.
The hospitals I was in were:
St. Lukes in New York
Hillside in New York
McCleans in the Boston area.
I think my total time so confined was at least one year of my life.
St. Lukes
This was a general hospital with a psych ward on one floor. It was not very large. When I went to St. Lukes I was truly very sick. I was so "out of it" that I could barely get out of bed. The world was a complete fog and I needed attendants to bathe and feed me.
I don't remember a lot about my life there, except that the poor guy in the adjacent bed was given shock treatment, which I may have witnessed. That actually may have helped my "recover" pretty fast (it was a brutal thing - and at least for a while, was abandoned). I remember the medicine I was taking. It was called Stelazine and it may have helped a little. I also had a decent psychiatrist and he soon came to trust me.
I also remember some of the crazy people on my ward. Many had self-destructive tendencies (breaking glass and slitting their wrists - for example). Those were locked in a room (like solitary confinement - I think these were politely called "quiet rooms" and were fully padded so people could not bash themselves against the wall or floor). Some were given Thorazine which made literal zombies out of them (the walking quiet).
I remember one kid who was very schizophrenic. He was young and intelligent but just went nuts periodically. I remember that his father was a psychiatrist, which puzzled me since I thought all mental disorders were caused by subconscious repressed experiences and that a psychiatrist father should have known how to raise a sane son. (Today I believe schizophrenia is truly a brain disorder and not just a psychological disorder.)* Also there were not the medications we have today to help schizophrenics so he was often put in "the quiet room."
Eventually I was given the privilege to leave the ward on my own and go outside. St. Lukes is in upper Manhattan, I think on Broadway. (It was right next to a famous cathedral named St. John The Devine.) I distinctly remember that I would go out and walk one block to the cathedral and try to go further, but I would get a kind of fog and dizziness if I went much further than 2 blocks. This was probably a kind of psychic fear that overwhelmed me and I would turn around and go back.
Then a "miracle" occurred. One day the fog lifted and I could go as far as I wanted. My illness was over. I told the shrink who said, "well, we had planned to transfer you to a large psychiatric hospital in Queens (Hillside), but in my opinion, you don't have to go there." But he said all the arrangements were made and I was already admitted so I could choose to go or not. I thought about it a lot and since I had heard good things about Hillside decided I could use a "rest and recovery period" before returning to the "real world." It probably wasn't a bad decision.
I was at St. Lukes approximately 3 months.
Hillside
Hillside was unique as mental institutions went. It was nicknamed "the country club" and indeed was aptly named. Being there was actually a "retreat," with therapy.
I was also lucky. I got a psychiatrist that was considered "the best." His name was Fred but we affectionately called him Freddy. Sessions were short and not very in-depth, but he was truly a smart, compassionate (and at the time young) man. (He later went to San Francisco, where on one of our California trips, Betty came with me and we looked him up - he was a warm gracious man an greeted us likewise.)
Everyone knew him because at Hillside regular socials were held, several including everyone, patients, and all staff. Treatment consisted of R&R plus group meetings of different levels. The entire place consisted of "units." small buildings with a population of several tens of occupants. Occupants of each unit were rarely changed, so we each became a complete social unit, getting to know each other as neighbors and sometimes friends.
Day activities consisted of various meetings and other therapies, like occupational therapy, music therapy, etc. The unit also had a social hall or common area where, if you did not have an activity scheduled you could hang out. In the evening this was the only activity. There was a TV and also a piano for those so inclined.
I guess I was put on one of the most liberal units since, as I mentioned, my doctor at St. Lukes considered me "mostly cured" and not actually necessarily needing the services of this place. So, and especially since, I had a lot of psychological insight, I became something of an unofficial pseudo-staff member. In one case I even took a very disturbed young man (who had one of the worst doctors in the place) under my wing - effectively becoming his (totally unofficial) therapist. This was never challenged, even though I once counseled him to run away after his doctor decided he was to have "shock therapy." He ran but didn't get very far - and ended up getting "zapped" anyway. Fortunately the effects do wear off after a while (unless they keep "zapping" you). I continued seeing him as a "friend" after we were released, but eventually lost contact with him.
Hillside was also where I met one of the "women of my life," Betty. This is described in that chapter (The women in my Life). After Hillside I started seeing Betty who became my girlfriend.
McCleans
This place is located in a suburb of Boston called Belmont (Massachusetts). This last of my hospitalizations was not at all like Hillside. I guess it happened because (for whatever reason) I became very desperate. I was of course working at the psychophysiology laboratory at Harvard, and will never forget the compassionate and wonderful consideration I received from my "Boss," Dr. David Shapiro.
Ultimately, after an unsuccessful suicide attempt, I went there voluntarily (or perhaps after consulting with Dr. Shapiro, who was, coincidently a psychologist). At any rate, at the admission interview they concluded that I didn't really need hospitalization, but probably recalling the R&R aspect of Hillside, I insisted, so they admitted me.
But they admitted me to the "real psyho" ward. This place was locked and the rules were severe. Simply put it "was no fun." It was a prison. Maybe that was what I needed but I was pretty miserable. I think I got out of there in three months, and that was enough.
During that time, Dr. Shapiro never took me off full salary, indeed, never even reported my absence to anyone officially. When I was ready I just resumed my duties. I owe a great deal to Dr. David Shapiro.
Conclusion
*Today I believe that schizophrenia is a physiological (not psychological) brain disorder. I also believe that my lifelong periods of depression were caused by my complete and serious mental breakdown because I could not face my "ghost" but I support the analyst's effort to uncover them. It was just too scary and apparently then caused a change to my brain such that I now suffer these periodic depressions.
Temporary End