RED

Shaking, shivering, it’s not cold, what’s happening to me? My heart races trying to drive out of my chest. My leg bounces up and down about 100 beats per minute. My breathing speeds up, choking on each breath. I try to calm down but I can’t, I can't stop this feeling. Looking around the room my vision is blurred but I can make out the shape of a desk with a monitor on it showing a colorful screen saver to the right of me. A window behind it with the blinds halfway down just enough to block out the sun but still let light in. Next to it, I see many inspirational posters, one saying “ Hang in there!” with a picture of a cat hanging onto a branch, cute, but not right now. I’m sitting at a large table with multiple chairs around it one containing my mother. She’s looking at me with a confused, concerned, glare. I see her face out of the corner of my eye while I blankly stare at the neutral party in the room, lets call her V, V goes on about the process that we’re going through right now. My mom continues to glare at me during the silence, I look down afraid of what she might say to me. V finished typing as the phone starts to ring, she answers, she then says “We’ll be right out” She hangs up then gesture toward the door.

We all gather our things and head toward the front of the building with me slowly following. Waiting outside is a Ford Transit with a large blue logo on the side. The driver is waiting with the passenger door open I climb in. My mom and V step into the small van and sit in their seats. The driver asks “Where to?” V says “Emergency”. We drive the block in silence, it feels like a mile, we get out of the van and slowly walk toward the automatic door. I shuffle my feet not wanting to face the next obstacle. We step up to the small desk in the huge room filled with chairs. The woman in blue scrubs and a blonde bun strategically placed on her head asks my name. All eyes on me I open my mouth but only a squeak comes out, V quickly says my full name.

The woman asks “Why is she being admitted?” V looks back at me with my head down, biting my lip. She says in a low voice “ Suicidal ideation with a plan”. The woman looks down at me with a concerned half-smile and looks back at her computer typing away. She then hands my mom a wristband to check spelling and everything she hands it back while the lady gestures to me telling me to give her my wrist. She snaps on the band and cuts off the rest she puts on another one that's bright red with the word “Allergies” written in bold black letters. A nurse in the same color scrubs comes out and escorts us to the small room with nothing more than a bed, a bed tray, and a chair. The nurse tells me to put on a gown and take off or out all of my jewelry. I instantly get frustrated, I don't want any of my piercings to close, plus they’re a built-in coping device. The door closes with my mom still in the room I put on the paper-thin gown and take off all my jewelry including my earrings. I hand them to my mom for safekeeping. I climb into the firm bed and drape the sheet-like blanket over myself and lay there shaking. Trying to crack a joke I look at my mom and she doesn’t seem amused. A nurse knocks on the door slowly entering with a cart of vital tests, he asks me all my information and scans my barcode. I have a barcode, how diminishing is that. He checks my blood pressure, heart rate, and my temperature. He does all this while I stare blankly at the guard posted outside my door, he’s just sitting there on his phone. I ask the next nurse why he’s there and she just says “to keep an eye on you”. I look back up at him, he’s smiling back at me, I shiver. We sit in silence for a while until I try to talk to my mom again, she looks at me and starts to reply when a girl screaming at the top of her lungs gets rushed into the room next to me. She continues to scream as the nurses try to calm her down. I wonder for a second, do I belong here, then instantly brush it off as I hear more screams followed by a nurse’s angry yell. This goes on for about 10 minutes until she finally stops. But the scream is replaced by soft weeping. A nurse walks in and tells us that they found a place for me to go, I’m going into an inpatient program. We’re told to gather our things and get ready to leave. I’m put onto a stretcher in the hall with my blanket and wait for the ambulance driver to strap me in and take me away. They push me toward the back of the hospital where they lift me up into the back of the ambulance. One of the guys jumps in the back with me and takes my vitals...again. We drive in silence, no lights, no sirens, nothing. I ask the guy in the back why that is, he says there's really no need. I ask if he could, so he gets up and slowly walks towards the front. The driver turns on the lights that I can see through the back window. I thank the man and we continue. We finally arrive at the ambulance entrance for the hospital where I’m lowered out and carted through a maze of hallways.

Before my mom even arrives I’m placed into a dark room with nothing but a bench built into the wall. I sit and wait for the nurse to come in. Two women come in one of them holding a clipboard the other nothing. They tell me that they’re looking for scars and wounds more specific evidence of self-harm. They find what they’re looking for instantly. One nurse says the location the other writing it down on her clipboard. They finish by taking my vitals Again. My mother and I sit and wait, at this point it’s 11:30 at night, we’re both exhausted. I finally get placed in a room with a young girl who’s fast asleep in the bed beside me. I’m allowed to put my clothes back on and most importantly my jewelry but they take my shoes and lock them away. I lay in the extremely firm bed thinking about why I brought myself here. Why is this how I wanted to spend my week? I feel ashamed to even be here and so does my mom. She hates that this is happening, she blames herself. It’s not her fault it’s mine.

This experience was very eye opening for me. People were there because of drug abuse, physical abuse, suicidal attempts, schizophrenia, and most it wasn’t their first time. For the first few days I felt worse because I had to sit there and hear other people's stories while I sat there feeling sorry for myself. Everyone had a story and mine was pathetic and miniscule compared to everyone else's. I didn’t belong there, I knew that from the start, but there I sat, part of the red track.