Chapter 5 - The Hospital
As the body, the mind and the spirit separate from each other, the human being is not a person anymore. He or she is just an empty shell, materially present but unable to care about the future.
Kennestone Hospital is located in the City of Marietta, about fifteen minutes away from my house. There was a waiting line at the emergency room. Romana helped me to sit down on one of the small sofas placed in the waiting area. She was drinking a venti-size Starbucks coffee purchased in the hospital’s cafeteria. I pointed at the cup and slightly moved my right hand towards my face a couple of times for her to hand me the cup. The coffee smelled great, tasted delicious, and warmed my stomach and body to the point I stopped shivering.
“Think, Joseph, you can beat this. It’s no big deal. They’ll just probably perform a few tests to find out what’s wrong and you’ll go home,” I thought, comforting myself as I was sitting on the couch, looking out a large panoramic window, admiring how beautiful the sky looked.
I grabbed my wife, gently pulled her to sit next to me and kept holding her hand until a nurse told Romana to guide me over to the adjacent room. Jonathan and Milan were told to stay in the waiting room area.
The nurse asked Romana what was wrong with me and was curious regarding the surrounding circumstances. Both the nurse and Romana were visually guiding me through the routine physical checkup examination. The three of us went to a small room, a typical hospital room with one chair and a hard bed covered with transparent white paper. Romana was told to sit and wait with me until the doctor came. I was so tired, half asleep, but somehow managed to stay awake. I became nervous, opened my eyes and kept staring forward at the white wall directly in front of me. When spoken to, I completely ignored everyone; the medical staff and my wife. I did not have to act at all. The fear of losing life makes everyone, including a Joe Blow like me, the Hollywood actor deserving of an Academy Award.
Several doctors performed different medical tests, from making noises behind my head to letting me write on a piece of paper what happened. I didn’t know, didn’t want to remember anything, didn’t want to do anything except to stay in the game and eventually win my life back.
“Everyone is in on this. If I ever figure out who is doing this to me, the son of a bitch is a dead man.”
Ideas similar to these helped me to gain additional strength to stay focused. I did not view the medical staff as people trying to help me. “The doctors are excellent entertainers, paid actors, torturers and executioners combined, with total disregard for human life. The doctors only care if the TV network renews their contract for next year. They are not paid by medical insurance, they are paid by the producers, the government and indirectly by the audience.” I had to pause my thoughts to prevent myself from completely losing my mind.
After several hours of examinations, combined with seemingly endless waiting periods in between, a doctor walked into the room and said to Romana, “We don’t know what has caused this. It appears to be some sort of mental block. We’ll try one more test; he’ll be taken to the next room and dissected to pieces.”
The doctor and my wife were staring into each other’s faces during the conversation; she didn’t show any emotions, didn’t say a word as the doctor finished the sentence. Given the unusual events that had happened in the past several days, I didn’t know what was reality and what wasn’t anymore. There were an infinite number of possibilities and reasons to justify what and why this was happening to me.
“Many people would have committed suicide before reaching this stage of the game, whatever the game might be,” I said to myself. I remained calm, and kept staring at the white wall.
I was taken to a room where an MRI machine stood. “This is it, this is the end,” I thought, as I was sliding deeper into the machine, holding Romana’s hand. I refused to let go of her hand and the experiment began. A loud and vibrating noise was played at different intervals for at least ten minutes. Every time I heard the noise, my body shook uncontrollably like I was having a seizure.
To my relief, I walked out of the machine in one piece and went straight to the restroom. I washed my face and paused for a few minutes. The thought of going home and falling asleep was priceless. This goal felt realistic and achievable. I left the restroom, went to a nearby waiting area and sat next to my wife.
“Doctors told me that we will go home shortly. Just hold on for little longer,” Romana wrote on a piece of paper.
The same doctor who wanted to dissect me to pieces walked in and said to Romana, “We don’t know what’s wrong with him. He never looked directly into my face. It appears he doesn’t view me as the person that is trying to help him, and I don’t know what he is thinking of. We have no choice but to observe him for a few days.”
Romana, of course, agreed to everything the doctor had just told her. Unfortunately, my wife always blindly believes everything a person of authority tells her. She completely ignored my earlier request; at home, I wanted to fall asleep while holding her hand. I knew she was not going to fight for me to be released. Thoughts of resentment and disbelief boiled within me. “How can a deaf and silent person be held against his or her will? I was not violent at all, just tired beyond imagination. At work, I lost the woman I truly loved, twice in a year. I lost Christine and Jessica as well. I lost two jobs this year, went through a lot of bullshit this week, was in jail, didn’t sleep for two days and now this?”
I was placed in a wheelchair and taken to a room. The two-person hospital room looked fairly normal at first. A bathroom with a sink, shower, and a toilet was situated on the right side of the room as I entered. The two beds, separated by a curtain, were also at the right side of the room. A television was strategically placed so both patients were able to watch it simultaneously. I was given the bed closest to a window. The small window, with blinds fully suspended, was located in front of my bed to the right. I was not able to look outside.
Romana held my hand and stayed with me for the remainder of the day.
“I love you. Please stay with me until I am released. I don’t want to be alone any longer,” I wrote on a piece of paper, as my mind was comforting itself. “Falling asleep without the ability to wake up and being medically experimented on are my deepest fears. The person closest to me, the person I trust; Romana, my wife, would surely wake me up and protect me from any wrongdoings.”
To my disappointment, Romana was not allowed to stay with me overnight. A strange idea entered my mind. “I have to fall asleep before my wife can release me to the hospital.”
A nurse stopped by to talk with Romana about my medical condition. The nurse kept rubbing her inner ear at an unusually fast pace. I adjusted the bed to a flat position and pretended to be asleep. The nurse deeply exhaled, moved her head down and was apparently relieved by my actions. I questioned the logic but didn’t bother anymore to understand the situation. “Was my wife instructed to play the Devil and Angel game? Who knows.”
After the nurse left, Romana went to a cafeteria to buy a sandwich and promised to come back shortly to say her final goodbye. On her way back to the room, she was stopped by a nurse in the hallway, just in front of the entrance door. I was not sure what was discussed but she was not coming in. “They won’t even let her come in to hug and kiss me, to say the final goodbye?” I thought.
Using sign language, I showed the nurse sitting on a leather chair a few feet away from my bed that I needed to use the bathroom. She quickly closed the curtain, handed me a plastic container and blocked me from walking any further. I took the plastic container, urinated, and went back to bed. I knew better, I could not let anyone know I was able to hear and speak. It would have been the end of me, the real me, the person I’d known for thirty-eight years.
When Romana left the hospital, the psychiatrists started to play "The Devil and The Angel" game; a representative of the Hell, the bad doctor, and a representative of Heaven, the good doctor. The good doctor standing in front of me was speaking in a positive way to the bad doctor, who answered in a negative way. Religious themes were often mixed in the conversation. The doctors knew I could not hear and speak, so this behavior was amusing to them. “This is horrible, if these doctors are in charge of a religious patient who is incapable of defending him/herself, it is just a matter of time before the patient is driven to complete insanity. This can’t be ‘the norm’ in all mental institutions,” I said to myself. It was obvious the psychiatrists liked to abuse helpless human beings. I heard on numerous occasions that psychiatrists are a little crazy themselves. I had no idea they were this crazy.
At certain times, the staff spoke about all kinds of medical experiments they would perform once the wife was fully persuaded that I was crazy and signed my life away to the mental institution. “The doctors would be able to freely perform medical experiments on my mind and body without any repercussions. It would have been so easy to produce a document listing ‘an accident, accidental death,’ or the cleanest of them all, ‘suicide,’ to cover their tracks.” I silently analyzed the situation as my body resembled a lifeless statue. All kinds of “toys” were at their disposal to abuse the patients with; helicopter noises, sounds coming from different points of the room, flashes of light hitting your face, a psychiatric person talking complete nonsense, pretending to be your roommate, and an invisible device shooting electric currents to your body. The current was not harmful but was very annoying, especially when directed at your heart and genital area. Many times over, I heard that I would go home in a few minutes. I just kept silent. The worst experience was hearing a screaming woman’s voice coming from the adjacent room.
Again, strangely enough, I was awakened by the personnel several times a night. On one occasion, a fake IV was attached to my arm. The next day, the doctors continuously brainwashed Romana to sign the documents. I came up with the plan; to sleep, and to wake up hearing and talking again. I did just that in front of my wife, so there would be a witness. The staff was not too happy about this, making comments such as, "Oh, a miracle has happened, yeah right.”
We were told the insurance would not cover the hospital visit if I was released today. The doctors were concerned about my well-being and suggested one more day of observation. Apparently, the doctors had become afraid, they did not know how much I’d really heard. When Romana left, the same game started again, adjusted for hearing, same for the eyes. I was friendly to everybody in order to make them believe I did not hear anything. I tried to convince everyone that I believed it was a normal hospital. I even asked for a razor to shave and complained about damaged photographs given to me by my sister a day earlier. The photographs were damaged on purpose. Blurry faces and barely visible lines printed all over the pictures.
The psychiatrists and my fake “roommate” became friendlier as the evening progressed but they remained puzzled. The staff performed the following test after midnight. I heard my roommate jerking off. The “nurse” sitting in front of my bed pretended to be asleep. The electric currents were going through my body for hours, the person kept jerking off for hours, the nurse was asleep in front of my bed, a helicopter “landed” and kept idling. Another nurse opened the main door, pointed to the exit and stated, "I am trying to make it easy on your department." The doctors hoped I would panic and try to run away. A video showing the attempted escape would be played to my wife, together with a verbal explanation of why I was sedated and “taken away.” I, however, got up, calmly went to the bathroom and then back to bed.
I was able to fall asleep around 4 a.m. and was awoken by a doctor right before my nightmares became too real, too scary to be handled by my confused mind. As in prior instances, my whole body was totally wet, the sheets and blanket were fully soaked in sweat. My mood improved dramatically after breakfast. “Just a couple more hours and I will be home free. I hope Romana will come earlier than noon to pick me up,” I thought.
Everything went well until a nurse offered me a pain pill on numerous occasions. “I better take the pill, or they may think I’m crazy.” I made the decision and asked for the pill. I pretended to swallow the pill, then went to the bathroom and inconspicuously threw the pill into the toilet.
I wanted to look my best and decided to take a quick shower about fifteen minutes before noon. Nurse was unusually helpful and accommodating; handed me a towel, offered to help with any additional requests I might have. “I have to be in the bed by noon, so Romana can pick me up,” I thought, as I was trying to turn on the hot water. The shower tap had a strange design. I couldn’t figure it out so I asked the nurse for assistance. Right after she was able to turn on the hot water, I was told to take as much time as I needed. My time perception changed. The nurse placed the towel back on top of the shower and left the room at an extremely fast pace. She moved so fast her body became blurry. I turned off the water and returned back to the room as fast as possible.
I could not believe my eyes when Romana and Julia walked into the room. They were both happy and excited to see me, especially Julia, who ran into my arms with a large smile on her face. She was dressed up and looked like a doll. We kissed, hugged, and played while my wife went somewhere to complete the exit paperwork. About ten minutes passed, a joyful ten minutes, but Romana was nowhere in sight. “I hope she is not being brainwashed again,” I thought, and almost panicked, but continued to play with Julia like nothing unusual was going on. Romana finally showed up and the three of us walked out of the room as a happy family. I was walking slowly with no visible emotions, hiding the excitement of beating the system, beating the psychiatrists at their own sick game. “Go home and listen to your wife,” said a stranger sitting on a bench. Julia and Romana didn’t respond to the comment, neither did I. We just kept walking while my mind was occupied. “I survived but didn’t figure out anything. Nothing is over, the game is still on. I better keep quiet and listen to my wife.”
As we were approaching the car, a stranger walking behind us said, “We’re listening.” Again, there was no response from my wife and daughter. Sitting in the car felt like being in a tank, fully surrounded and protected by the metal shell. I didn’t want to think or do anything anymore, just wanted to sit there, enjoy the ride and the outside scenery I’d thought my eyes would never see again. As we were driving up from the second level of the parking garage all the way to the roof, the car did not feel like a tank anymore. It felt like an ambulance was taking me to a helicopter parked on the roof. At the top deck the driver, Romana, made a U-turn and slowly drove back down to the bottom level, away from the hospital. The psychiatrists who wanted me back so badly instructed her to perform this theatrical fiasco. Their careers were in jeopardy if I were ever to break the code of silence. My wife, of course, blindly followed the instructions with no questions asked. She didn’t even try to give me any indirect warnings. I escaped the gates of Hell, the prison, and the gates of Heaven, the hospital. In the Hell, I would have been killed by prisoners. In the Heaven, I would have been killed by psychiatrists. Which is better? I think there is not much difference at all. Both institutions allow certain people to have almost unlimited power over people who cannot defend themselves. Depending on circumstances, this can bring the worst or the best qualities out of the people in power.
I was relaxed and really hungry when we arrived home. “There’s some food in the fridge. I have to go out and buy you the pain medicine,” Romana said, and walked out with Julia back to the car, leaving me home alone.
I opened the refrigerator and took out a couple of white Styrofoam boxes. The food looked delicious; fried fish with vegetables. It was exactly the same food my mom bought right after I came home from jail. “What a coincidence,” I thought, while eating the food. The situation did not feel normal anymore. “Am I going to be left home alone again, to possibly die? In case I don’t wake up, I need to leave a sign for anyone that will come to the house.” I placed the remaining half of the fish on a clean plate, left it on the kitchen table and went upstairs to shower and shave. I undressed in front of a mirror. There was a different person standing in the mirror, a totally different person than I remembered. He was skinny, wrinkled, bearded, and bruised, wearing nothing except a paper bracelet. “Any longer at those institutions, this guy would have become a walking skeleton,” I said to the person in the mirror.
After the shower, I went downstairs, took a knife and cut the bracelet, then opened the fridge and ate a yoghurt. “I am not touching the fish, no matter what. That’ll stay here.” I threw the empty yoghurt container into a trashcan and saw the exact same paper bracelet around my left wrist again. “This can’t be happening. I removed the bracelet from my wrist a minute ago,” I said, and replayed the cutting of the bracelet event in my head multiple times to prove it really happened. I could not comprehend the situation. Hallucinations seemed the only logical explanation at the time. “Another rule; I need to shut up and listen to my wife. The intelligence agency with the psychiatrists are surely monitoring me 24/7. I escaped the gravedigger twice in a few days. This is way too easy. I need to fall asleep right now before I go crazy, or else,” I thought, ran upstairs, jumped into the master bed and closed my eyes. My mind was able to completely block all thought process, my eyes only saw darkness while falling asleep.
That afternoon, I was finally able to fall asleep and wake up without help for the first time since the arrest. The “wake up” scenario was anything but usual; I had fuzzy vision, shortness of breath, facial and chest pains. My thought process was supercharged and out of control; generating one positive and associated negative idea about the possible scenarios, one after another, at a faster and faster rate. On the night of the arrest I experienced something similar just before I lost the ability to control the thought process altogether. Ultimately, I was able to refocus my eyes and realized I was in my bedroom, in my bed, in the safety of my house. Sunlight fully shone through the windows and the surrounding area looked crystal white. “No,” I said loudly. “No, I don’t give a shit anymore about what’s going on,” then my breathing returned to normal, the chest pains went away, and my eyes were just staring into the room, disconnected from the idling mind. What a relief.
An orange bottle of pain pills was lying right next to me on a night table. I came up with the plan to make everyone believe I trusted Romana. “I’ll have to put one pill in my mouth like normal. I will then go to the bathroom, rub my hand against my mouth and throw the pill in the toilet.” I did just that and was plenty happy with the acting performance. I had no energy, didn’t feel like doing anything except for eating, sleeping, and socializing with my family to a certain degree. I gave up on figuring out what was really going on and decided to play the game day by day, adjusted for each individual situation. The main objective was to stay with my family in the real world, the world I have known my entire life.