The rooms I was put in were more like seclusion rooms...the walls were of a hard plasticy stuff, but softer than concrete. That plus a dose of adavan was usually enough to calm me down. Even at the time I was thankful that the hospital had such places, though, because I never really wanted to hurt anyone and even though I would have more than willingly hurt myself at the time, I would have regretted it later. I felt safer in one of these rooms than I did out in the dayroom with so many distractions to irritate me, like sandpaper on my soul...in there it was quiet and I could calm.
As a sufferer of mental illness, I actually also find it sad that these places were just shut down rather than being cleaned up and reformed. I've been inpatient in several of the small hospital wings that are now used and pretty much all they were able to do with people was patch them up so that they were not an immediate danger to themselves or others and then toss them back out. As for longer term care...it was up to family and friends to try to convince the patient to keep up with their appointments and medications...not always the easiest thing to do.
I often wished there was someplace people with serious mental illness could go for longer periods, either until they became completely stable or longer if that wasn't possible. Group homes are out there, but they are tough to get into and they are hit or miss as to the quality of care. There just isn't a safety net out there.
These places were far from perfect in many cases, but at least there was something. I can imagine that they might have been improved rather than closed and a great emphasis placed on rehabilitation rather than institutionalization and we would all be better off now...and have fewer homeless and prison inmates.
The pattern of the paint on the wall reminds me of the National Geographic pictures of deserts that haven't seen rain in years. Very interesting texture
It's really hard to guess at the writer's meaning when all we have are the words. Just last night I watched a tv program about body language and how we really need to have facial expression, gestures, voice, and the words themselves if we are to make accurate judgments. When one of my children was in junior high, a classmate heard about something her boyfriend had said, and with typical teen-age girl hyperbole said, " I'm gonna just kill him!" An adult overheard the comment, took it way out of context, reported it, and the girl was suspended indefinitely. She was only allowed to return to school two weeks later, after having psychiatric and psychological evaluations to prove she was not dangerous. I know we have to be concerned about violence in schools and elsewhere, but we have to make sure we're paying attention to the right signs, and that those signs really do mean what we think they mean. Perhaps the writer of this note was merely quoting a song s/he liked.
One of the things I learned at the best job I ever had was to never think I was better than any of the people we served. We were expected to treat each person as we would want someone to treat our parent, our sibling, our child, our best friend. We were reminded often that anyone of us could be in an accident that would leave us with a brain injury and in need of constant care. When we were looking for housing for a person with mental illness or mental retardation, our standard was whether or not WE would live there. A person with mental health problems is still a PERSON first, with thoughts and feelings and hopes and dreams just like everyone else--not a "psycho," "insane lunatic" or any other asinine label.
In the asylum in the town next to mine they used to strap patients down in a bathtub and let them bath for as long as it would take for them to calm down, instead of padded cells. It did happen that it would take like a day or two before they finally would settle down, and could be released back into their cells. There would be someone that continiously monitored the watertemp. The tub didnt have a tap on it, instead there was a waterpipe going straight into the tub which had controls on the wall a few feet away, regulating waterflow and temp.