We reached our destination, the mental asylum where he worked as a psychiatrist. He parked the car where the rest of the carts have and got out to stretch his legs after a long drive. It was a chilly morning, so I wrapped myself in my lab coat to stay warm while waiting for Dad to finish up.
The mental asylum appears to be a large and bustling place filled with busy doctors, nurses and other staff members walking around doing whatever they do. The main building is surrounded by several smaller buildings surrounding the perimeter of the grounds to house the patients or those that require more specialized treatment.
In addition, the parking lot we are in is now mostly empty. Yet, there were a few cars here and there. As far as I know, we arrived quite early for visiting hours.
After Sol finished stretching himself out, he began walking to the front doors of the asylum to get inside while calling my name to follow him, “lets go Adam! Our patients need us.”
“Sure,” I replied back, following him to the entrance door. Out of nowhere, we were stopped by a security guard from behind; seemingly have came out of nowhere. The man in uniform had a stern expression on his face as he stared at us intensely. He wore an unassuming brown jacket over his shoulders, which covered up his entire torso and arms but exposed his chest. His pants were dark gray and made of some form of cloth that is thick enough to hide his bulging muscles underneath.
Suffice to say, this guy is big and strong.
“Are you two staff or visitors?” The security guard asks, looking straight into our eyes as if trying to read something about me or dad. I did not answer right away because he was staring at either of us like we had committed murder or worse.
Sol spoke on our behalf, “staff sir,” he politely replied with a smile, offering his ID card to show the guard his card. The security officer took the badge from Sol and examined it closely before nodding slowly, “you may pass then.” He said simply, ushering us through the doors before being stopped by him once again.
“You,” the security guard coldly pointed at me, “may I see your ID card?”
Dad was about to intervene before I gestured him not to, shaking my head as a sign of display before turning to the man in uniform, “I do not think you need to,” I bluntly answered as casually as possible. This guy is too intense for no reason. If he thinks someone needs a mental checkup, perhaps it is time to take care of his own health instead.
“Why is that?” Squinting his eyes in suspicion with his arms folded over his chest, “it is our policy to always have staff carry ID cards or else they are unable to work here.” He added, reading off like a script, still staring down at me.
I smirked, knowing how many times I encountered people like him working here and I always manage to convince them to let me go without trouble. “Well first, it would not be wise to deny the entrance of the world’s best psychologist?” My words were sarcastic, staring back into his eyes with an amused expression.
The guard blinked in confusion, “the world’s best psychologist?” he repeated himself with a doubtful tone, looking at me more intensely than before. “Is that true? Did you really become one?”
“Yes,” I answered flatly, smiling now. “That is exactly what I am. Isn’t oblivious that the world’s best psychologist does not need such an ID card to gain entrance? If you do not agree with me, go ask my previous patients.” I added, flashing a fake smile while trying to get away from this man’s suspicious stare.
He shook his head, “I am sorry but I still have to uphold the policy. Rules are rules and I cannot let you in until you have the ID card to confirm your identity.” The guard said sternly, challenging me to say something. If he was daring me to break his rule.
My face remained the same as always. “Oh well, it appears like I am unable to help your daughter then.” The guard froze like a statue after mentioning his daughter, having spawned surprise and alert of danger plastered on his face. “It is okay,” I continued, “perhaps it is better for her to assign to the other mental asylums that are more expensive and corrupt…”
The guard stared down in contemplation, turning around and talking into a walkie-talkie with a voice so low that we could barely hear him. It took some time before he came back, nodding at me. “Fine, you can go in.”
I grinned at my success, walking inside along with dad. But, just when I thought things were going smoothly…
“Hey! Hey, wait!” A familiar voice called out, stopping us from entering the building itself as someone else was coming towards us.
Sol looked up, “Its Richard.” He replied, recognizing the man’s face. “Hello there, how are you?” Dad asked, offering a friendly smile to the man who was dressed in simple and plain clothes without any distinguishing features or insignias.
Richard smiled back. “Well, it has been years since I last saw you here. How about giving me another chance to help you? What happened?”
“Mind introducing yourself?” I chimed in their conversation, making them look at each other awkwardly. “I do not remember ever seeing you around here,” I continued, although the guard did not appear too bothered to have conversation at the entrance.
Dad explained quickly, “Richard is a former patient of mine from a few years ago. He once told me that he wished to work here and hoped that someday he would come back to see me but well…” The father paused for a moment, but then continued, “…here we are.”
As if summoned by his words, Richard walked closer to us. With his hand held out at me, he introduced himself again. “Sorry about that. My name is Richard by the way, you should already know that by now since your colleague here called out my name,” Richard said with a warm smile, shaking hands between himself and me.
I pulled out from shaking his hand, “guess its my time to introduce myself ,” I spoke up, smiling slightly, “My name is Adam, son of Doctor Sol and self-proclaimed world’s best psychologist at your service,” I replied in jest.
Richard widened his eyes in surprise. He shook his head after recovering, “you are..his son?” He turned to look at my dad, “How come I never knew that? You don’t even have any resemblance whatsoever.”
Dad shrugged, “you never told me about my life Richard. So how am I supposed to know anything about it?” He added with a friendly grin.
Richard frowned, “oh crap, you are right. I should have asked you about that long ago…but no biggie,” he chuckled before continuing, “it is nice to meet you, Adam.”
“Don’t mention about it,” I nonchalantly replied, looking away.
“So, tell me about you proclaiming to be the world’s best psychologist?” Richard pressed on, intrigued at such a statement of mine. This man was one of those people who seemingly always eager to learn new things. He appeared like someone that could not stop learning or expanding his knowledge base.
“Well, it is because I-” Before I could distribute my explanation, the security guard rudely interrupted our conversation as he approached us with growing irritation in his voice, “you three going inside or what? I cannot just let you guys stay and talk here, especially when you three are blocking the entrance.”
Richard sighed exasperated, “sorry for holding up everyone’s day. We were merely having a quick chat,” his apologetic tone made him sound less arrogant than usual, which is rare enough that I took notice. “I will leave now then…” Richard said, turning back towards me but stopped by the guard.
“You can come with them if you like sir, the mental asylum is open for anyone who wishes to interact with someone they know or is looking for job opportunities,” the guard offered, sounding bored and annoyed with his duties.
He nodded, “okay. Thank you.” The guard looked down upon Richard’s gesture, but, he turned around and walked off to his patrol duty.
“Ready to go in?” Richard asked us.
“Yes, I guess so,” I answered, entering with dad and Richard into the asylum building. As soon as we stepped through the doors, the presence of patients, guards and doctors filled the air. It was a chaotic scene, as expected, where all these people went about their business while being surrounded by the sick and insane individuals that needed help from the staff there to survive.
The place had an eerie and dark atmosphere, something that should have been familiar with me after spending years working at this very hospital, yet it felt different now. There was nothing frightening or threatening in the moment though, as the sight of the mentally ill patients being guided by doctors and guards along the corridors were not particularly disturbing. Yet, the overwhelming sense of despair and sadness permeating throughout the entire building had sometimes made me feel uncomfortable.
Some patients who are danger to others and themselves are forcibly trapped in wheelchair to prevent them from harming other people or escape the facility. Some others wander around aimlessly, seemingly lost in thought until they bumped into walls or furniture. Others, like those with severe dementia, would be escorted by the staff and watched over carefully because they might end up wandering off somewhere.
Regardless, it feels like home again.
“You wish to apply here as your job Richard? It might be dangerous for you,” Sol spun in motion as he spoke, glancing towards the nearby corridor. He has always been concerned about everyone’s safety when we are out and about. This time, however, was different. After all, he knows better than anyone else what sort of dangers are waiting in this place.
Richard nervously scratched his head, unsure at the predicament, “sure I guess? Even though this place feels stacked with stressful work, I suppose it is not hard to try something new.” Richard did have a point as there was no harm trying. Besides, maybe, just maybe… he could find someone that could fill the hole in his heart to repay Sol’s kindness.
Sol looked away, staring down the hallway ahead of us, “if you insist Richard. You appear young enough to do so much more. But still…”
“I know, but if it makes me happy, then why not?”
Sol grunted, shaking his head. Then, he sighed before speaking up again, “Perhaps you are right, old friend. But be careful when working in this place. Please remember, you are dealing with the insane and deluded here.”
It is better just to go and work on my floor rather than wait here for the whole eternity.
With nothing else to contribute to this little conversation, I walked passed through the busy crowd of people as they moved about their daily lives in the hospital. The air was cold but not freezing, making it comfortable enough to breathe without any problems. Though, I guess it should be expected since this place is filled with crazy people from all walks of life, so there really isn’t anything to worry about.
After having gone past the lobby area where the receptionist desk stood, I proceeded to wait near the elevator entrance, pressing the button to call for the lift and waiting patiently until it arrived.
The moment it did, the doors opened, revealing an empty shaft with no one inside, much to my relief. As soon as I entered, the elevator’s voice announced its arrival, “Lift arriving at floor three,” before closing itself, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again.
Floor three, huh? Lucky me, that is where I am going to work.
I waited patiently, tapping my foot against the ground, trying not to make too much noise while waiting for the elevator door to open. After what appeared like an eternity, the elevator finally came to a stop and the door opened, revealing another public lobby with patients sitting on their respective chairs to be called from the front desk to see doctors or nurses.
Unlike the main lobby in the entrance of the hospital, this public room is more quiet and peaceful compared to it. Although, the only thing different is the presence of medical equipment such as examination tables, beds, scales, etc., scattered throughout the room along with a few people walking around here and there.
Stepping out the elevator, I then went inside one of the doors that is labeled ‘staff’ only, heading towards the innermost part of the building where most of the staff are stationed, including myself. The moment I stepped inside, I saw many faces staring back at me they were surprised to see me entering their workplace, but I pretended not to notice them nor I need do as I have no interest in having conversation with them.
Finding my office was easy, every office door has a name for a specific psychologist and therapist, mine being labeled Adam, which is what everyone knows me by. My door was located near the end of the hallway next to another door, making it easily recognizable to anyone who wanted to find me.
Great thing about all of this is that we do need to lock our office doors since some patients can get violent if they are not satisfied with their treatment or just simply refuse to cooperate at times. This is also the reason we do not want to lock our doors to give the false illusion that we are still somewhere else when we really are not.
Having reached my door, I grabbed the handle and pushed the door open, stepping into the room and shutting it behind me. Turning on the light switch above my desk, I began to sit and shuffle the messy papers around to organize them in a neat pile. As soon as I did, I heard someone coming up from down the hall towards my office.
“Hello Doctor Adam?” A voice spoke behind my door, followed with a knock. “It is me, Claire.”
Claire is my assistant and good friend of mine. She had been working here for several years now after graduating college to become an assistant and customer service girl. Though, her specialty is more focused on dealing with unruly patients and their families while also helping out with administrative duties such as answering phones. She was quite popular among the staff due to being friendly with everyone even with those who are difficult to deal with.
“Come in!” I called back.
The moment the door opened, Claire entered my office with a smile on her face. Her hair is usually kept tied up on top of her head and long enough to cover half of her neckline. She wore a black shirt and matching pants that were tight and form fitting for her slim figure. On her feet was a pair of black shoes and socks.
“Good morning Doctor Adam,” she greeted with a bright smile, “How are you today?”
I returned with a smile, “doing good. Guess that you are here to tell me that I have a patient coming here for a therapy session?” I asked with curiosity.
Claire nodded, “you are correct. His name is Dutch and he is scheduled to be here in about a minute or so,” she informed with a professional tone, “anything you want to know about him or…?”
I casually wave back at her, “no nothing really.”
She looked at me with raised eyebrows, but instead of questioning anything further, she turned around to look for Dutch in the waiting room.
“You can go ahead and get ready Doctor Adam,” Claire told with a smile before leaving my office.
What long day will this be? I wondered as I got myself ready for the day’s work. I remembered that I finished my social studies regarding my previous patients yesterday evening and it was just sitting on my desk, still untouched. Although there were some notes written by Claire, I had yet to read them because I did not feel like doing any research nor studying for the time being.
My thoughts were interrupted by the knock behind my door, feeling two presences at once, one of them is Claire and the other is definitely Dutch himself.
“Your patient is here Doctor Adam!” Claire’s voice came from outside, followed by a familiar male’s footsteps walking towards my office. She opened the door, revealing herself and man in his 40’s.
The moment he saw me standing up behind the front of my desk, he gave me an friendly smile while waving at me, “name’s Dutch.”
“Welcome to the facility Mr. Dutch. Please, take a sit while your psychologist gets ready,” she directed him to a comfy seat on my patient couch.
“Thanks,” Dutch said, giving Claire a grateful nod as she closes the door behind her.
He looks tired and worn out. His hair is black and shaggy, with strands hanging loosely down to cover his forehead. He has a stubble on top of his chin, which is also covered by a thin layer of beard. Moreover, like any of the patients here; they wear hospital gowns to identify who is visitor or patient that resides in this mental asylum.
“I want to talk about my issues…”
