PROMPT - a locked gate

The sound the heels of my shoes made with every step echoed back as I walked the long stretch of quiet corridors leading to the psychiatric ward in the hospital’s basement. The fluorescent lights hanging high above the ceiling emitted a monotone of buzzing that complemented the antiseptic smell and the muted green color of the walls. The shiny concrete floor gave me the eerie feeling of being in a Star Wars spaceship or something.

I reached the ward’s double gated entrance with two large locks almost the size of a small pot. I noted the large bolts above and below the gates. An armed security guard sat on an upholstered chair between the gates, his waist heavy with the chain of large keys. He stood up when he saw me.

“You’re visiting someone or are you a doctor?” he said. I detected a Visayan accent, more likely central Visayas.

“Visiting,” I replied. “Jason Lee Monaghan.”

He smiled at the name. “Ah, si Sir.” Ah, it’s Sir, giving me the impression he knew Jason. Still he checked a large blue register and finding the name, lifted the white intercom and spoke to someone. After a few “yes” and “okay”, he replaced the receiver and folded back his logbook. “Ah, ma’am,” he said to me, “you’re expected inside. His doctor is there, too.”

He unlocked the first gate to let me in. He opened a red register and made me sign my name while he locked the gate back. He unlocked the second gate and almost immediately, a large man, wearing an orderly uniform materialized and escorted me to a receiving room. He asked to see my purse, literally turning it inside out, inspecting the contents, making sure there were no pointed or sharp objects inside. He took my ballpen and my compact mirror along with the small bottle of perfume and placed them on a small plastic tray. Then he asked me to take my belt off.

“Why?” I was more concerned about how I looked when Jason saw me.

“Ma’am, this is a psychiatric ward,” he said. “Sometimes a patient can grab you, not that they are violent or anything, but you never know. They can use the belt to try and kill themselves or you.”

I took off my belt and handed it to him. He rolled it and placed it on the same plastic tray.

We walked down another long corridor. Then through another iron grill gate, we entered the inner sanctum that was the psychiatric ward. A few patients, men and women, stood leaning against the walls. Some greeted me with a smile, but one man approached me, grabbed my arm and shook my hand. “Hello, don’t forget to vote for me, Sebastian Hoy, for governor!”

The orderly promptly pulled him away. The man meekly stood aside and muttered, “I’m going to be governor!” which elicited a “No, congressman” “no, Senator” from two other patients.

We went through a swinging door marked “Alcoholics Anonymous” then stopped at a half opened door. The orderly knocked while looking sideways keeping watch on the other patients loitering in the hallway. I heard Jason’s voice saying “Come in.”

He lay on his side wearing his favorite blue pyjamas, as he talked to a young nurse. He sat up. The nurse adjusted the bed for him.

“Your wife?” she asked.

“No,” I said simultaneously with his “Yes”.