A new patient came in today, right next to me. Her parents said she has a serious illness which needed thorough treatment. She is a cute girl, in her twenties am guessing. She had jet black lush locks cascading till the small of her waist. A cute dimple formed on her freckled left cheek as she forced a smile when her parents waved her goodbye.
This place seems cold. I miss my duvet bed and plush teddies. They told me they would bring it to me. Two weeks have gone by, but no one came to visit me. The food is not same. I wonder how many days I have to be admitted here. I miss my room. I miss Viviana.
Today she was wheeled in again with the electrode marks. I wondered if these frequent shock treatment did her any good. I had seen agitated patients being given those. But she was different. Since she came she was always calm. Sad but calm. No trait of aggressiveness or delusion. She would always be writing letters. She would give it to the nurse who would dump it in the trashcan on her way out. I saw it every time, the trashcan was directly in my field of vision. But I could not tell her. How could I?
Every two days they place round stickers on my forehead , my whole body shudders and suddenly I go limp. I feel drained after all these sessions. I was supposed to feel better after the treatment. But I feel worse. I miss Viviana. I wonder how many days have gone by…days or months?
My joints are all squeaky. My peeling skin has left rust coloured patches on my on my once glossy skin. The girl asked the nurse why she isn’t getting any visitors today.
“Because you are queer!” Nurse replied.
Why did she say queer? She is a queen. Still going strong after all those shocks. I wanted to stand up for her so bad!
But I am just a tablestand. A mute bystander to treated and tormented patients alike. An old rusted furniture.
“Your guardian passed away and no one is there to pay for your treatment. You have to vacate the area..Here are your reports and pack your things.” A nurse stated in a monotonous tone.
It seemed as if everything came crashing down. Is that how they broke bad news?
Her trembling hands opened the folder- Conversion therapy failed.
Hypnotherapy- still attracted to girls. To continue with ECT.
“I was kept here because I was a lesbian! And they told me I had some severe illness. All those years wasted! I was kept away from everyone and bore these terrible treatments.”
She burst out into tears.
“They were awful people! Horrible!”
“Oh Viviana sweetheart I miss you!”
She packed her bags and stepped outside. She was free. Free to swirl in all the colours of the rainbow and no lightning of any kind could hurt her.
ECT – Electroconvulsive therapy
Conversion Therapy- is the pseudoscientific practice of attempting to change an individual’s sexual orientation from homosexual or bisexual to heterosexual, or their gender identity from transgender to cisgender, using psychological, physical, or spiritual interventions. There is no reliable evidence that such practices can alter sexual orientation or gender identity, and medical institutions warn that conversion therapy is ineffective and potentially harmful. (Source:Wikipedia)
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