Mumbles From The Madhouse CHAPTER I 1 Angela felt slightly moist with perspiration as she rounded the last bend of the half-mile drive that would lead her to the entrance of the huge, ugly, grey building. “So much for cool, calm, composure”, she thought to herself. Still here she was and she tingled with a mixture of trepidation, and excitement, and by god she was going to do this job to the best of her ability. She flung back her head defiantly, and was rather irritated not to feel her long hair bounce comfortably onto her back. She had it pulled into a severe, tight bun, which added several years to her mere twenty seven so far accumulated. She hoped that this would give her the air of poise and professionalism that she was finding it difficult to feel in her heart. The massive main entrance was before her. “No turning back now, no escape” she thought as she pulled on the ancient ringed bellpull. She glanced up, to see two hideously ugly gargoyles, taunting and mocking her from their perch six feet above her head. She fancied she could hear them chanting. “Stupid, stupid, come in here and find... you’ll enter quite intact, then quickly loose your mind.” If the door hadn’t creaked open at that second, she would have giggled aloud at her silliness; She mused that perhaps she had come to the right place after all. When stone gargoyles warned you to beware it was a sure sign that the cookies were beginning to crumble. The welcome that greeted her when the door was opened was not an inspiring one. The lady that stood before her was of average height, with cropped ginger hair, and a face like a smacked bum. Angie smiled what she hoped was a warm and confident smile, introduced herself, and said she was expected for her first day of duty by the Matron, Mrs. Lynne Phillips. “Lynne’s off sick” The woman informed Angie, ushering her in. “And I haven’t got time to be bothered with you today. I’ve got two girls off and now with matron off too, it leaves me in a right mess. You’ll just have to manage as best you can.” Well this certainly wasn’t the welcome she had hoped for. Lynne had promised to meet her at the door, and give her the guided tour, introducing her to the clients, and giving her a bit of background on each. She had said that she would make the entire afternoon available to stay with Angie, for her induction. The severe, rude, lady, who later introduced herself as Mary Peters, and set off at a furious pace, down what seemed to be an endless bleak corridor, ceaselessly bemoaning her state of overwork as she bustled. Angie did her best to keep up, assuming that as the tirade of complaints continued that she was expected to follow, and presumably sympathise. Her new serviceable shoes, pinched uncomfortably, and squeaked loudly on the polished floors. She shifted her huge briefcase to ease the pain in her arm, the case that had just a couple of hours earlier, given her such confidence with it’s professional feel of unyielding new leather, now it just felt cumbersome and heavy. The smell hit her the second she walked through the door, Oh they’d done their best to mask it with strong disinfectant and deodorising room fresheners, but the smell of incontinence and misery was far too powerful and dominant to be smothered. 2 Angie concentrated on inhaling as little as possible while still they moved down the endless corridor. At last they came to a set of large double doors. These were obviously new and looked strangely out of place in the period setting of the ancient building. They were fronted by a huge combination lock. “Old fish face” as Angie had instantly christened her, did a little slight of hand conjuring with the push in numbers, twisted the handle and the door came open. The noise released with the opening of the door, was instantly cacophonous, wails and moaning. Several voices shouting, some screaming, one man releasing a stream of the foulest language ever heard. The smell had at least doubled in intensity so that Angie had to fight the instinct to gag. Old fish face gave a mirthless laugh, “I hope you’re not squeamish” she said “Well that’s the best I can do for you. I’ve got to get on, Just do what you can. Oh and always remember, don’t turn your back on any of them. They are all in here because their conditions make them violent, either to themselves or to others. Don’t show any weakness as they’ll take advantage of it, and don’t for a second leave them unattended. Oh and there’s a panic button under the desk in the therapy room. You think you’ve got cause for complaint? I’ve got to work through my breaks today.... But will I get paid for it? ...” She was off at her furious pace down the corridor, still ranting about her unfair conditions, this time Angie assumed she wasn’t meant to follow, and that in effect her induction was over. She stood with her back to the doors that she had just come through wondering what the combination was to get out of there. What the hell was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t spend the next eight hours standing with her back to the door. But what she was to do, or where indeed she was to go to do it, she had no idea. She knew one thing, and that was that she would not be beaten by this imposing place with it’s unfriendly staff and neglected appearance. She knew she did not like what her senses showed her, and that she in her little way and with her heartfelt good intentions, would make a difference to the lives of these poor cast off people, who nobody else wanted the responsibility of. However little it was, Angie was going to make her mark on this institution for the mentally ill, and it would be for the better. Angie was still ‘stood standing’ as her mother used to say, pondering the who, what, when, where, why, and how of the situation when she met the first of her sixty charges. The other question that was blowing in the wind of Angie’s mind was “Where the bloody hell were all the staff?” The place seemed devoid of them. The man shambled out of a door to the right and a little further down the corridor. He was stooped and moved his slippered feet in the tentative baby steps of an old man. Angie was a little shocked to realise as he drew closer that he couldn’t have been more than thirty years old. Drug names who’s effects would suit his appearance ran through her mind, Lithium, Mogadon, Temazepan, Dyhydracoedine. He was obviously heavily sedated. The man was dirty and unshaven, his cardigan stained and wrongly buttoned his fly’s gaping open with the tail of his shirt sticking through the hole. He wore a flat cap on his head. “I want the three twenty five to Liverpool, what time will it be here?” Angie made a valiant effort not to smirk and state the obvious. “Er I’m sorry love I don’t know” “Whaddya mean y’ don’t know? You sell the tickets don’t ya?” “Er no, I’m the new OT” “Oh you’re a prostitute. I don’t hold with you lot all over the station. I could give you a right good seeing to alright, but I’m not going to pay for it.” He moved closer to the door that Angie was still standing against. The man reached behind her and began rattling the door furiously. “Open the door.” “I can’t its locked and I haven’t got the key.” “Open the door.” His voice was becoming excitable and had a hard edge to it. “I’m sorry I can’t look its locked” Angie gave the door a half-hearted rattle, also wishing that it would open. “Fuck off yer Bastard.” The man had lost his temper. Angie moved away from the door as he pounded against it. Shouting that he needed to get on the platform because he had a train to catch. Angie felt out of her depth and wanted to put some distance between herself and the irate man. She moved off down the corridor, not having the slightest idea where she was going. The first door opening off to the left was a day lounge, so that seemed as good a place as any to start. She walked through the door with a big grin pasted across her mouth to hide the mounting feeling of panic that was threatening to have her too screaming at the door to be let out. “Hello everybody, I’m Angie and I’m the new Occupational Therapist.” It seemed as though a hundred blank faces looked past, through, and around her. One lady was playing happily with a ball of faeces, rolling it round in her hand, and passing it between her fingers. Another lady rocked backwards and forwards keeping up a monotonous moaning the whole time. A large lady with a reedy operatic voice and black pegs for teeth although she didn't’ look very old began to sing the opening lines of “Bless this house oh lord we pray” A man was picking his nose and wiping his find on the side of the chair. Angie went back out into the corridor this time with a sense of purpose at least now she had something that she could do. The second door on the right that the man still pounding on the connecting door, proved to be a bathroom. On the top shelf of a unit Angie found some mediwipes. She grabbed half a dozen and wet half of them under the tap. She vigorously soaped one of them. Going back into the lounge she marched straight up to the lady playing in her own filth. “Hello Dear” she said confidently “I’m just going to give you a little wash to make you feel a bit fresher. The faeces had by this time found its way into the lady’s mouth. Without any hesitation Angie did a swipe of the lady’s mouth with her finger. “Come on now let’s get that out of there shall we, it’s nasty isn’t it?” The woman who was rapidly ceasing to be thought of as ‘a lady’ in Angie’s mind bit down hard on the finger, Angie cried out in pain and alarm. “He he he” said a man in the far corner, he seemed to think this was very funny “He he he she’ll `ave yer she will.” You don’t say, thought Angie sarcastically, though she just turned and smiled at the man while trying to prise her finger and the poo out of the other woman’s mouth that was fast filling up with saliva. “Gerroff” yelled the woman indignantly dribbling some brown tinged saliva down her chin and giving Angie the chance to complete her mission. “Now then how about that little wash eh?” Ange set about cleaning up the lady’s face and hands; she really must find a member of staff to take the woman off and attend to her properly. She had been on the unit for almost ten minutes now and not a single member of staff had shown themselves. Ange rang the attention bell that was situated high up on the lounge wall. Eight minutes later a young woman bustled into the room in a wake of stale cigarette smells. She had an inked out tattoo on her forearm, and her brown hair was greasy and unkempt. “Who rang that bloody bell?” She yelled as she flounced into the room “I was on my break and the last thing I want to hear on my break is these sodding bells going off all over the place. Was it you Gwen?” The lady who had kept up a constant stream of hymns stopped singing suddenly and looked at the care assistant innocently. “No dear, not me perhaps it was the Lord.” By this time the girl had noticed Angie. “It was me,” she said. “Hiya, I’m Angie the new OT, pleased to meet you. I think this lady here needs some attention.” “Oh has she shit herself again? Elsa you’re a dirty cow you are.” She turned her attention back to Angie “I’m Linda, don’t worry about Else I’ll be seeing to her after lunch, she’s on the bath roster.” A lady had soiled herself and this woman was going to make her wait for at least another three hours for some attention? Angie moved closer to Linda so that she could talk confidentially, and almost reeled backwards as the smell of body odour moved in closer to talk too. Linda seemed unaware of her problem. “I think she could do with seeing to now, she’s soiled herself.” Linda sensing disapproval bristled. “Yeah well I’m busy right? I’ll see to her when I can.” Linda began stalking out of the room but turned at the door “Listen, can I give you a word of advice? Keep your head down, and just do your job and you’ll be ok. I’ve seen lots of people come and go in here, and not many of them last very long. Know what I mean?” She nodded at Angie to emphasise her words. And then she was gone.
Copyright © 2000 Sue (Sooz) Simpson |