FIXING YOU – A REWRITTEN POEM
Recalling my month-long “treatment” at New Britain Hospital a.k.a Hospital of Central Connecticut on Grand Street, in May 2014, under the supervision of Dr. Michael E. Balkunas
Only nine days after that last adders-pit hospital —
You still wear sunshades to protect others from you
though no one out here believes they are in peril.
Nevertheless, the staff there described you
as “assaultive,” dangerous to self and others,
unfit for company or visitors.
Neither accurate nor truthful
they wrote lies for the sake of their convenience.
Now you are a week from making new friends
in far northeastern Vermont,
in a place magically named the Kingdom
and it’s a move your bruised mind
requires, still unable to let go of
the half-nelson grip of hospital guards
bent on eliciting pain, who, when told to strip you
then four-pointed you naked to a mattress,
replaying their favorite rape scene,
yanking each limb apart to expose and humiliate, knowing
that the nurses’ own official policy was hands-off
and would protect their asses.
You want truth, you wish for reconciliation
but how, you wonder, does any Truth or Reconciliation proceed
when so many refuse to acknowledge
that hospital staff broke every rule,
stopping short of murder only
because you submitted nick of time,
your terror strangled in a towel they wound
around your head and face,
before they injected punishment drugs into your buttocks,
then muted the intercom and sealed the door
No one was ever there to bear witness.
That was always the point,
from your father to the hairdresser
and all the hospital staffs in-between.
They’ve made a religion of secrecy
and no one Outside wanted to know
what they didn’t want to know…
Call this, “our family business,”
call it, “a private shampoo,”
call it, “necessary treatment.”
they could always do what they wanted to you.
And when it broke you, as it eventually would,
when your sudden screams split the night,
and no one could explain what drove you
to empty your lungs,
ripping the air to shreds,
they stood aside and declared you
just “one of the family” now,
no better and no different than anyone else,
now that they’d finally fixed you for good.
WAGblog: Dum Spiro Spero 
Precious Pammy my heart is seared with pain and rage for the despicable and cruel violence perpetrated upon your vulnerable body and tender soul. It’s horrifying. You on the other hand are not! Your courage & poetry becomes you. It is sacred.
LikeLike
Hi Pam, Miss you! I would like to visit you and so would Rick. Maybe when the weather gets drippy with sunshine and satisfaction you will see us happily arriving in my Honda. love, Carole
LikeLike
What terrors they put you thru!
LikeLike
Dear Marie, LQ and old friend of mine, Carole, please know that while paroxysms of these traumas do assail me yes, even now, three, almost four years later, even though much more safely ensconced in Vermont and well shed of the mental health system, even though not, alas, of medications, I am in no danger of ever being subjected to a repeat of such sadistic situations. My main support in this endeavour — whom I think of more as a doula than a therapist — has made it clear to me that she will never in her powers let that happen. And so I trust it will not, and can work to ameliorate the greatest abuses of the system from outside it! I mean this, and I am doing this even when I have been struck by muteness, as now, for over a month…
Love to all of you.
Pam
LikeLike
Pam, This may be your best poetry offering yet. Succinct, yet pithy. I agree you have been through HELL! Unfortunately a gentle soul, such as yourself has a difficult time comprehending the angry violence inherent in some human beings. They find themselves in the mental health field so that the can yield power over vulnerable and sensitive folks like you. They want to make you bow down to them. My heart goes out, not only to you, but other gentle souls like you. Love, carole
LikeLike
Oh Pammy. I am so sorry for the he!I they put you through.
LikeLike
Pammy, I don’t what is there to like in this poem apart from the peotry. It is gruelling and yet so true and shameful. I leave it at this, but you know how much I love you and so do my boys. If only we could hug you and cherish you forever in our family. Thanks for all and loads of love, someday you’ll truly reconcile with the trauma and keep making greater strides to thrive and not just survive
LikeLike