Psych Ward

Psych Ward

The conversation got away from her very quickly. Eliana looked from her uncle back to the doctor in front of her, now they were saying she was clinically depressed, that she needed to take medication and maybe be admitted into a psychiatric hospital for a while.

‘I’m not crazy.’ She said.

‘Off course you’re not crazy, sweety.’ Her uncle said briefly patting her on her head.

‘Don’t patronize me.’ She said. ‘I’m only here because you’ve forced me too. You said it was only grief counseling.’

‘Aggressive too. I see.’ The doctor chewed on he tip of his pen and made another note. Eliana rolled her eyes and leaned backwards in her chair. It was so frustrating trying to talk to these people. She shook her head and sighed. About six months ago her parents died in a car crash, both at the same time. She was twenty three years old, technically an adult, but still it was a lot for a young girl to take in, to loose her parent both on the same day, to consequently inherit all of her parents real estate including a big victorian mansion, a town house holiday home, a New York penthouse, and the home they actually lived in, all her mothers horses, her dads company, the cars, the boat. It was just a lot she had on her plate right now, she barely finished her college education, and now she was the one who needed to keep everything running and make all of the tough decisions.

It was natural she felt overwhelmed, it was natural to grief the loss of her parents, yet her aunt and uncle convinced her to get some grief counseling, some therapy to help deal with it all. They way they explained it to her made sense. But now that she was actually here, sitting in the office across the psychiatrist, she was made to belief she was going crazy. Her words got twisted around, neither her uncle nor the doctor seemed to actually listen to her.

She shook her head again. ‘You don’t even know me.’ She yelled.

‘Well tell me.’ The psychiatrist said calm and composed. He put his pencil down and leaned forward. ‘I’m listening.’ He said. ‘I’m trying to get to know you, but you have to open up.’

He was quite young for a psychiatrist, she had imagined a Dr. Freud type, an old distinguished gentleman with a long beard, smoking a pipe in a dusty office full of books, but this guy was only forty years old, tops. He had wavy brown hair, and caramel colored eyes. He gave her a friendly smile.

‘I’m listening Eliana.’ He said again. ‘Tell me.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with me.’ She said. ‘Sure I’ve lost my parents and I’ve got a lot on my plate right now, but so far I think I’m coping very well, you know, considering the circumstances. I’m just a bit overwhelmed, and sometimes I cry, but that’s not crazy, it would be weird if I didn’t cry.’

‘I see.’ The doctor said. There was a brief moment of eye contact with her uncle, a meaningful glance as if they shared some secret.

‘What?’ She asked.

Both men looked at her innocently.

‘What did that glance mean?’ She said.

‘What glance?’ The doctor asked.

‘O my god.’ A frustrated sigh. Eliana shook her head. ‘The glance you two obviously shared. Plotting something, some secretive glance, just now.’

‘I get what you mean,’ The doctor said to her uncle. ‘She’s definitely delusional, I think you’re right admission would be the best way to go from here.’

Wait what? Eliana stared at the two man in disbelief. She was just here for some grief counseling, then they convinced her she was depressed and offering her medication, and now all of a sudden she was delusional.

‘I’m not.’ She said. Realizing actual delusional people would probably say the exact same thing. She was trapped, whatever she did it would just confirm their idea that she was indeed a mental case. She sank back in her chair, looking at her own new pink Prada shoes. There was a little spec of dust on the nose and with her thumb she brushed it away. She took a deep breath, tried to regain her composure and looked the doctor right into his caramel colored eyes.

‘Listen.’ She said. ‘There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me. I’m feeling fine. I want to go home now.’

‘Just wait a minute, sweety.’ Her uncle grabbed her wrist and held her back. ‘Let the doctor finish his assessment okay?’

‘No.’ She said. ‘I’m not here to be assessed. Why are you doing this to me?’ She asked her uncle.

‘I’m just here to support you.’

‘I’ve seen enough.’ The doctor said. ‘I’m admitting her.’

‘Admitting me?’ She yelled in disbelief.

Her uncle tried to calm her down, but she was furious by now. She tried to get out of his grip, she pulled on his fingers and wanted to walk right out of this office. Her uncles fingers pressing into her arm. She pulled and pried, but he didn’t let go.