Protested Asylum 4: How Are You Feeling

The doctors and nurses here are very aggressive.

They are fairly uninterested in how we truly feel or our health. They give the majority of us sedatives to keep us quiet and subdued. Shortly after I arrived here, I was truly a mess, but I had faith that whatever was wrong with me, these doctors would help. They had my best interest at heart. We are required to have weekly sessions with the doctor. Most of the other times, we are in the care of the nurses, but they are to follow the orders of the doctor. It seems that no matter what, every session goes the same.

“Esther,” the doctor begins, “how are feeling? You look frail, have you been thinking about how you disappointed your husband?”

A few weeks ago, I began to hide my medication instead of ingesting it. I do not wish to listen to their medical opinions of my health. They weren’t right in telling me to seek fresh air away from Ruth, and maybe their opinion is wrong now. I feel more like myself since stopping the medication. They do not have my well-being in mind.

“Tell me,” he begins again, “how are you sleeping? Are the nightmares still happening? You know that is just your subconscious showing you what kind of lady you really are. You are a disgrace to your husband and your family name.”

Up until this session, I have been honest. I believed they wanted to help. I Tried to explain what drove me to the incident that brought me here, but their only answer was to medicate me until I forgot who I was. What they have yet to discover is that in a moment of clarity, I found my own way out.

“Sir,” I say to the doctor, “I truly feel better. I realize what I did was wrong, but I will never do anything like that again. I am ready to be reunited with William and my beloved Ruth.”

“Esther,” he responds, “have you been taking your medication. You do not seem yourself.”

“Why,” I insist, “because I speak in clear and rational words?” I look up at the doctor and heave a sigh. He remains quiet, stoic. The look tells me everything I need to know. “I am sorry, sir.” The only additional words I say for the rest of the session.

“Esther, you look pale,” the doctor finally says after a few moments pause. “I’ll make sure Nurse Cora gets your medication for you. I will see you next week.”

He escorts me to the door. I sneak a glance toward him, and in that moment, I know how much he will help me to reunite with my family. Will I ever be able to convince him that I am well enough to leave?

To Be Continued…

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