CW Institutionalization

In a Styrofoam cup I stir three packets of creamer to sweeten my decaf Lipton. You watch an elephant pirouette and hover out the window. We are eleven stories up and can see the hospital’s anatomy. Nurses and med students drift like antibodies. The elephant is purple.

Every day we get menus and circle our three meals for tomorrow. There is matzo ball soup on the menu. I always circle matzo ball soup for dinner just to confirm that I am in a psych ward that serves matzo ball soup.

When I move in you tell me you have a daughter my age. When I wake up at nine you’re already gone. They get ECT out of the way early. You’re back for breakfast, your tray is heavier than the rest.

This time I insist on being discharged to no one. I tell myself this is a sign of independence and renewal. I trek six blocks and sit on a bench on the outskirts of Madison Square Park. I’ve got a paper bag full of New Yorkers and underwear and a wristband with my name but wrong sex. My mom picks me up and takes me home.