319 Winesap Lane - 17. Chapter 17 - Insanity

Jerry’s POV

Almost dying twice on the operating table as the surgeons worked to repair the damage from those two bullets definitely helped me realize that the insanity clouding my mind since being shot in the head wasn’t something I wanted to live with anymore. What was remarkable most was that I could think a thought such as that, whereas before, after receiving a bullet that damaged the lower frontal cortex of my brain, I lived in a foggy world where communicating with other people was very difficult, so I spent most of my time listening to music on my iPod. Now, as I lay in the hospital bed I decided I needed to stop sleeping with Geoff. I knew it was probably going to tear him up emotionally, but to maintain some semblance of civility and morality in the house I had to sleep in my own bed. I was sure we would still have our alone times, though they could never be the same as sleeping in the same bed, even if we never did anything that might be construed to be physical or sexual love.

Once they moved me from the ICU to acute care, I knew I was once again ready to go back to school. Unfortunately, spring term had already begun leaving me with little options other than to start reading a lot. Also, I needed to learn a foreign language, which meant I would need Geoff more than ever. I knew he was going to insist that I learn French because that was his favorite European language, but I wondered if I could take something else. Of course, I had to consider the languages that Warnton College recognized for credit.

And, then my mind faded out and I was lost to unknown thoughts again. All I could do was stare straight ahead at the blank wall opposite from me. But, I began to notice that it wasn’t necessarily an empty wall. There were things on the wall. I tried to make some sense of them, but they were beyond my understanding. There were obvious electrical connections that must have been waiting for some things to connect to them, but I couldn’t figure out what those things might be because the sockets weren’t the normal shape. Also, there were pipes and what looked like filters of some sort that also appeared to be waiting for some things to connect to them. These things occupied my consciousness for what seemed to be hours.

Eventually, a nurse came into my semi-private room, but went to the bed on the other side of the drapery. I heard her talking to whoever was over there, but the conversation made no sense to me. Plus, the focus of my concentration was still on the opposite wall and all of those things on it. And, at that moment I realized I was occupied by some degree of insanity.

Someone new came into the room and stood at the side of my bed. In my deranged state, I didn’t want to transfer my focus from the opposite wall to the person standing beside my bed, but I felt a hand touch my wrist. I looked down at it and it looked familiar in some way. I consciously moved my gaze up along its wrist and forearm to the elbow. I had no idea who was connected to this arm, so I cast my vision up the bicep to the shoulder and over to the neck. Once there, it was only a matter of moving my eyes up and over to the face, except for some unexplained reason I was afraid to do so. I returned the focus of my eyes to the opposite wall and the electrical and piping connections.

“Jerry?” a familiar voice asked. In the far reaches of my mind I knew who had just spoke, but the meager sane portion of my mind refused to acknowledge the presence of that person. “How are you doing today?”

How was I doing? How was I doing? That made me think of my body and how it felt. Although I had come out of surgery only a couple days previously, I wasn’t certain I was doing okay; or, was I?

I knew I had to acknowledge the presence of this individual, so I said, “I am okay, considering.”

“That’s understandable,” the other person said. “Are you going to look at me?”

“Do I have to?”

“No, not if you don’t want to.”

“But, that wouldn’t be polite.”

“Well?”

I couldn’t bring myself to look. I knew who was touching my wrist, but for some unconscionable reason I could barely acknowledge his presence. Then I had a thought.

“I made a decision about our sleeping arrangement.”

“And, what is that?”

“I think it would be advisable if I slept in my own bed.”

“Why?”

“Well, if we get more boys it will become difficult explaining to the authorities that I sleep with you. They will come to errant conclusions and think our sleeping together means we’re having sex. They might fear placing more boys with us.”

“Do you want more boys?”

“Yes, I think it would be a good idea.”

“Jerry, I love you.”

“Yes, but I can’t love you like you want. You’ll have to accept the love I can give.”

He patted my wrist and said, “Okay, I’ll take that under advisement.”

He took his hand away, but, still, I couldn’t look into his face. I couldn’t acknowledge the damage I had caused. But, he didn’t go away. He sat down in the chair beside the bed and placed his hand over my wrist. I laid there hating him for staying. I wanted to be alone in my insanity, but his presence wouldn’t let me be as I desired.

“You didn’t leave,” I said.

“No, I felt I should stay until you decided what our relationship should be.”

“You will be my adopted father and I will be your adopted son. We will not have a sexual relationship.”

“Fine, that’s okay with me.”

“Are you sure? I can’t imagine that you are giving into this so easily.”

“Jerry, I want whatever you wish.”

He went away from me, but he didn’t leave the room. I knew I wasn’t completely sane, now; but I did see things clearer. Unfortunately, I didn’t want to see where this person was located in the room. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t bring myself to seek him out, so I stared at the ceiling. After I don’t know how long the door opened and someone came in.

“Oh, hi. Dr. Johnson. How’s our patient?” the person asked. I kind of knew the voice, but if asked I wouldn’t be willing to say who it was with any degree of certainty.

“He seems a little more lucid this morning, Dr. Avianca. I’d hate to think his being shot did him some good, but, to me, it seems to have done something.”

“Do you mind leaving? I’d like to speak with Jerry for a while. If you go to the waiting room, I’ll stop by when I’ve finished.”

“Sure thing. Goodbye Jerry, see you soon.”

He left and the new person, my psychiatrist, Dr. Lucinda Avianca, moved one of the chairs up to the bed and sat down; though I could only surmise that was what occurred because I didn’t watch her. For whatever reason, I still couldn’t look at other people.

“Good morning Jerry; how are you doing?” Dr. Avianca asked.

I continued to stare at the ceiling, but whispered, “Okay, I guess.”

“Not sure, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Why is that?”

“I can’t look at you.”

“Did you look at Dr. Johnson?”

“No. I don’t know why, but I can’t look at people.”

“Does this bother you?”

“Somewhat. When I woke this morning, I decided I wanted to get better mentally, but not looking at other people is crazy.”

“It is somewhat of a conundrum, but it is good that you’ve decided to get better. What do you think brought this about?”

“I don’t know. Could it be because I died twice on the operating table?”

“That’s an interesting supposition, but I suppose it’s possible. Do you think it might help you look at other people?”

“I suppose it could.”

“Let’s try something. Try looking at me.”

I should’ve figured it was going to come to this. It was inevitable she would want this step. All I had to do was turn my head and look, but I couldn’t do it.

“Jerry? What are you thinking?”

“How easy it will be to turn my head and look at you.”

“Why don’t you do it?”

“I can’t.”

“Okay, I’m not going to force you. I’ll come back later today and we can talk again. Goodbye, Jerry.”

“Goodbye, Dr. Avianca. I’m sorry, I just can’t do it for some reason. Oh, that man out there; could you tell him not to come in? He’ll only want me to look at him.”

“Okay, Jerry, whatever you say. I’m going to prescribe something to help you rest and then I’ll see you later.”

It was probably less than a half an hour after she left when a nurse came in with one of those little paper cups they put pills in. I focused on it so I wouldn’t have to look at her face. She held out the cup and I took the pill and put it in my mouth. She handed me a paper cup of water. I swallowed the pill and gave back the empty cup. I lay back and stared at the ceiling as I waited for sleep to overtake me.

I began to wonder if I was really sane this time. Why couldn’t I look into the faces of people? That had to be some kind of neurosis or was it a psychosis, but did it have a name? Did I need it to have a name?

Someone came into the room. I didn’t look to see who it was, but he said, “Hi, I’m Jerome from Respiratory Therapy. I’ve come to help you keep your lungs clear of fluid that might induce pneumonia,”

I didn’t know what to say, so I remained as I was.

“Here, let me put the apparatus over your mouth and nose,” he said.

I kept my eyes away from his as he went about his task that was supposed to do something good for me. To say the least, it was agonizing as he made me breathe in the moist air, which caused me to cough. With the various stitched incisions in the front and back of my abdomen, the reflexes of my lungs caused more pain than I thought was possible to bear. Finally, after untold minutes he seemed satisfied that my agony was sufficient for his purposes.

To say the least, that sedative they gave me had been negated by that session with the respiratory therapist and I was fully awake when a nurse came in with my lunch. It wasn’t much since I was on a bland diet because of the damage of the bullets traversing my abdomen. I ate the toast with a non-dairy spread, but ignored the rest. I lay back on my pillow and stared at the ceiling hoping that something might happen other than the boredom I was experiencing.

* * * *

I don’t know how much time passed before someone came in and asked if I wanted to listen to my music. He held up my iPod and earbuds. I took them and put the earbuds where they belonged. I started the iPod, but when the music came up I didn’t recognize the song. I tried to concentrate on the lyrics, but they meant little to me; it was as the song was being sung in a foreign language. I stared at the ceiling waiting for some song to come up that meant something, but nothing struck a note in my mind.

I began to wonder if by chance they had given me the wrong iPod, but the more I thought about that possibility—which I fully accepted to be meagre—the more a line of thinking cycled through my mind that I was now totally insane. There wasn’t any full support of thinking that way, but, still, it was as if I now resided in a different universe in a place where rock and pop music hadn’t been invented or possibly in this other universe rock and pop music had been deemed unacceptable to be heard by the human ear.

I was thinking these thoughts when the door opened and someone came in. I took the earbuds out and while not fully looking at this person’s face, I saw that it was the new boy at the house. The boy whose bullets pierced my abdomen nearly killing me. He started talking to me and, while I tried to be civil, for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to care. Finally, unable to tolerate his presence further, I told him I wanted to take a nap and then shut my eyes. After hearing the door close, I opened my eyes and looked around. I wasn’t in the room I had been in during that boy’s visit. Somehow, someway, I had been moved to another location, quite possibly in that universe where rock and pop music did not exist.

I don’t know how long I lay there waiting for I didn’t know what. That was answered when a woman came in and said, “Time to have your catheter removed.”

I had no idea what she meant by that so I didn’t say anything as she pulled the blanket and sheet back. Then she pulled my gown up exposing my penis, which had a tube in it. She pulled on the tube until all of it came out me.

“There you go,” she said. “Now, if you need to urinate, use the call button and one of us will come in and help you.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier just to leave the tube inside?”

“I suppose it would seem so, but you can’t go to a regular room with a catheter.”

“Oh, okay.”

When she left, I realized I hadn’t once looked at her face. But, then, again, I did glance at what should have been her face, except there wasn’t anything to it other than something resembling a white sheet of paper with two small black circles for eyes and a line drawn into a smile where you would expect the mouth to be. There was no nose or any sign of ears or hair. Maybe, I was in a different universe populated by people who didn’t have faces. I lay back and stared at the ceiling fearing one of those faceless beings would come into the room and do something to me; what I had no idea. I don’t know how much time went by, but eventually the door opened and someone came inside. I looked over and saw another of those faceless people. She went over and got the chair that was sitting beside the far wall. She placed it beside my bed down by my feet so that she could look at me when we talked, if that was why she had come into my room.

“Good afternoon, Jerry, I saw on your record that you had your catheter removed. How do you feel.”

“Can you tell me how I got here?”

“Where do you think you are?”

“The music on my iPod isn’t the music I put there and you’re like the nurse who was in here. Why are you wearing a mask? Is your face so hideous that you wear the mask so I won’t be scared? Did I actually die on the operating and now I’ve gone to the place where sick people go to be healed before they go on to heaven or hell?”

“You seem extremely confused; why wouldn’t the music on you iPod be the music you want to listen to?”

“But, you see, it isn’t my music. I don’t recognize it. Is my music not permitted here? Should I try to enjoy the music that is there and be happy that at least I have some music to listen to?”

“Perhaps you might want to listen to the music in hope of hearing a song you recognize.”

“Do you think that could happen?”

“You can, at the very least, give it a try.”

“But, what happens if none of the songs on this iPod are the songs I put on there? What if this isn’t even my iPod? Maybe, whoever keeps these things until patients are well enough to use them, liked my music and kept it; giving me this one instead. Maybe, we should call the authorities and have them start an investigation into the thievery of iPods here in this hospital. I’d be willing to give a deposition if they want or, maybe, I should just file a complaint. Did you know when they made up your face they didn’t put a nose on it? Or, is that how you people look? I don’t suppose you would need a nose if your species evolved without them or possibly early species in your family of beings had a mutation that eliminated noses and it carried forward in subsequent births. Do you have a record of that event somewhere I could peruse at my leisure? I like to read essays about evolution or I think I like doing that. Maybe, I liked reading things in that genre when I was alive. Maybe, that is why everything has changed. Maybe, I did die on the operating table and they weren’t successful in resuscitating my lifeless body. Am I dead, Dr. Avianca?”

“No, Jerry, you’re not dead, but I think the trauma you experienced when you were shot and the subsequent activity with the medics, your flight in the air ambulance, and in the trauma center has affected you mind in a way that is causing you confusion. I think when you are ready to be discharged from the medical side of the hospital, we should bring you up to the psych ward where we can work with you. How does that sound?”

“Do the people up there have faces?”

“Yes, all of us have faces.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t recognize your face. It’s just a sheet of white paper with eyes and a mouth drawn on it. You’re not the Dr. Avianca I knew before. But, I’ll do as you say. Maybe, in time, I’ll be able to accept having a face such as yours on the front of my head, too.”

* * * *

The following morning four white paper face people came into my room and made me get on a gurney. They took me out of the room into a brightly lit area that must have been the entrance to something bigger. There were white paper face people all around and some I suppose were listening to music because they had earbuds in their ears and the cords disappeared into their left breast pockets. The white paper face people guided my gurney into an ever-increasing bright light until I had to not only shut my eyes, but cover them, too.

Suddenly, there was the sensation we had stopped. I removed my hands from my eyes and noticed the brightness had gone. When I opened my eyes, I saw I was in a new room in a new bed. The pure bright white sheets sharply contrasted with the dull red blanket covering them. There was a person beside the bed. She didn’t have a white paper face. It was dark blue craft paper and the eyes and mouth had been drawn on with a yellow Crayon.

“My name is Sally and I’m one of the duty nurses in this ward,” she said. “Do you need to use the toilet?”

“I suppose I should. Do you have one of those urinal bottles?”

“You’ve moved up in the world Patient 35-421-A794-JJK3; you get to use a regular toilet. It’s through the door over there. Come on, let me up you out of bed.”

Her hands consisted of two fingers with an opposable thumb. They appeared to be made of orange crepe paper. She had two legs, but they didn’t end in feet; she seemed to float in the air. I suppose I should have feared her, but she was not threatening.

After I entered the toilet room—where there was also a shower—she said, “Don’t flush.”

Having been in the hospital before from when I was shot in the head, I was not surprised by her statement.

After finishing with the toilet, I went to the bed, but Nurse Sally said, “How about a little walk?”

She took me by the elbow and we walked out into the hall. The light wasn’t as bright as on the previous floor, but there were bright lights.

“Come, let’s go down to the gallery,” she said. “You might see something you like.”

We walked down the hall until it entered a huge room that had a domed glass ceiling. When I looked up, I could see stars and constellations I didn’t recognize. As we walked further into this room, I saw naked bodies of various sizes hanging by their necks from slender wires that hung from an iron framework attached to the ceiling.

I didn’t want to look into the faces of these bodies, but I couldn’t help myself as I gazed up into the agonized countenances of humans who must have been dead because of the way they hung from the wire around their necks. I wondered if they had been hung by those wires. Although there were humans of all ages, I think it was the dead children that troubled me most. Nurse Sally went over to an iron post and moved a switch from “off” to “on”. Above me the bodies began to turn slowly, then faster while moving up and down; and, then they began to move about the area all the while spinning and moving up and down. It was almost as if they were dancing.

“Who were these people?” I asked.

“Look into their faces, see their being, remember their familiarity,” Nurse Sally said.

I began to study the faces and slowly came to the understanding I was seeing myself and all the people whoever had anything to do with me. I saw my body before I had been shot in the head, when I was five years old back in Michigan, and all the ages in between. I saw my father, mother, two sisters, great-grandfather, grandparents, uncles, aunts, and all my cousins. Then there was Geoff, Erik, Jamie, Billy, Clarence, Barry, and Gerry. Plus, there were other people who I didn’t recognize, but had to assume they had something to do with me. Then, just before I decided to leave this incredible place, two identical twin boys, probably not more than ten years old and hanging from the same wire arrangement, swept down and hung before me. Their empty eyes stared deep into mine as if pleading for respite from their hellish existence.

“Why?” I asked

“Why, indeed,” Nurse Sally said.

“What do you call this place?”

“The Land of Need to the south of Eden.”

“Isn’t that the Land of Nod to the east of Eden?”

“No, that’s another story which doesn’t apply to you.”

“Can I go back to my room now?”

“You don’t have to go back, you’re already there.”

I looked down at myself and saw that I was lying in bed. When I looked around the room, I saw that I was alone. I wondered who those last two boys were and magically they appeared in my room. As before, they were naked and lifeless, yet their eyes still begged for some sort of relief I didn’t believe I had to give. Who were they and why were they haunting me?

Eventually they separated—though the wires around their necks remained taut enough to throttle them—and sat on the bed on either side of me. They continued to stare, but I had no idea as to what might be their supplication. Then the one on my left drew his forefinger along the wire and blood slowly began to ooze out of the wound. I looked to the other boy and he, too, had trickles of blood running down his chest. I couldn’t tolerate the sight of this apparition, so I pressed my call button. Immediately, the boys faded into nothingness.

Nurse Sally came into my room and asked, “Is there something you need?”

“No, I’m just seeing things,” I said.

“Yes, we were told that you might experience hallucinations. I’ll go check with your psychiatrist and see if we can start you on an antipsychotic. What were you seeing?”

“Two boys I saw when you took me to that dome.”

“What dome?”

“You know, when we went for the walk and you took me to that place where there were all those naked people hanging from wires around their necks.”

“Oh, dear; do you mind pressing your call button, again.”

Something was wrong, but I didn’t know what it was, so I did as she asked. In a matter of moments three more people with blue paper faces and without feet floated into the room.

“The patient needs to be restrained,” Nurse Sally said.

The came to me and with unbelievable strength wrenched my hands away from my body and fastened my wrists to the bedrails with leather straps. They pulled the sheet and blanket off me and then proceed to fasten my ankles to the bedrails.

“What are you doing to me?” I screamed.

I watched them take off their blue paper faces and turn them around. The other side was colored red and angry expressions had been drawn with a black marker. The ceiling opened and suddenly I was lying in my bed in the domed room with all the naked bodies floating around me. Then those two young boys with blood oozing from the wires around their necks came down out of the crowd and sat on my bed as the stared at me with empty eyes.

“Ah, my dear Jerry, what troubles you so?” a voice asked from beside my bed.

I looked down and saw Dr. Avianca’s white paper face, but today a small curlicue simulating hair had been drawn at the top of the page. I turned back and stared at the two bleeding boys.

“Jerry, why did you try to leave the hospital?”

“What?”

“Jerry, why has it gotten so bad that we have to restrain you?”

“All I want is for them to go away. Why can’t you do that for me?”

“Who troubles you?”

“Everyone I’ve ever known, but especially these two boys on my bed. I don’t know them, but they seem to know me. Do you know who they are?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Can you make them go away?”

“I might be able to help you with that. I’ll prescribe something that may help you with your hallucinations.”

“Is this a hallucination?”

“Jerry! Look at me! What do you see?”

“A white piece of paper with a little hair, two eyes, and a smiling mouth drawn on it where your face should be.”

“Do you think that is normal?”

“I don’t know. Maybe, that’s how it’s supposed to be where I am now. Don’t you think I could’ve been transported to a new planet where I’m now receiving medical care?”

“No, Jerry, you’re in a hospital in Rochester, New York.”

“How can that be when nothing I see makes me believe that is so?”

“Then I will have to help you see reality for what it is.”