But Inside I'm Screaming

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“Meaning I have been subjected to a treatment that I didn’t necessarily agree to. I thought we were supposed to be able to agree to what kind of treatment we received.”

“You’re referring, I assume, to ECT,” Larry says.

“Yes. I’m referring to ECT.”

“What’s she talking about, Larry? What’s ECT?” It is Ben, who seems slightly agitated.

Great. Just fucking perfect. I’m getting electroshock therapy and Ben the I’m-gonna-blow-up- my-school guy isn’t? Great.

“They shock you,” Melanie jumps in. “They put a thing in your mouth and they shock you in the head.”

“No they don’t,” Isabel cries defensively. “They don’t put anything in your mouth.”

Isabel feels her cheeks reddening.

Get those smug looks off your faces: I am not like you, you goddamned nutcases.

“ECT is a very effective form of treatment,” Larry intercedes on her behalf. “It’s been very successful in the past and I’m sure Isabel’s therapist feels it will best suit her needs. Isabel, I hear that you feel upset about this, but I do know that Dr. Seidler has repeatedly tried to talk to you about it.”

“Wait a second. Wait just a second. You guys talked about me?” Isabel is horrified, picturing a coffee klatch of doctors swapping stories about their pathetic patients. Five bucks says mine’s more screwed up than yours.

“Now, hold on,” Larry says, trying to calm the now unsettled group. “We work in tandem, your therapists and I. I speak constantly with all of your therapists to ensure that we are all up to speed on the issues you’re dealing with. It’s imperative that we maintain an open dialogue…”

Open dialogue my ass.

“…to better serve your recovery.” Larry stops and takes an exaggerated deep breath.

“Let’s move on. Lark?”

“Wait! What am I supposed to do?” Isabel is infuriated. “Seidler told me I’m having ECT again tomorrow—I don’t get a choice? That’s not okay. I am not doing it again.”

“Have you told Dr. Seidler that?”

“Yes.”

“What did she say?”

Isabel shifts in her seat. “I don’t remember,” she says sheepishly.

“I think what she might have said was that it is not uncommon for patients to experience anger following their first treatment, but we’re confident—” Larry hurries past the word we’re “—that another session will enable you to achieve the maximum benefits of ECT.”

“But…but couldn’t there be another way? Couldn’t I just promise to work on myself more actively or something? Please? Isn’t there any way I can get out of this?”

“Let me talk with Dr. Seidler after this session and see what she has to say.”

“Thank you, Larry.”

You catch more flies with honey.

Larry takes another exaggerated deep breath to emphasize a subject change.

“Okay. Now. Lark?”

Lark slumps farther down into the tall chair.

“Do you want to tell the group what your situation is, Lark?” Larry asks this while surveying the nervous faces around the room.

“Why don’t you do the honors, Larry.” Lark slurs her words through the hair that had fallen into her face. She does not try to shake it away, it just hangs there like a veil.

“Lark is in restraints today because we believe she could be a danger to herself and maybe to others,” Larry addresses the group.

“And a danger to you, Lar, right?” Lark challenges through her mask.

“Well, if you’d like to talk about that, we can.”

Lark’s beady eyes dance as she tells the group she bit Larry before being carried away to the soft room. She appears proud.

“Do you think you’re a danger to yourself, Lark? Will you sign a contract?”

“What the fuck’s a contract?”

“A contract is basically a written agreement between you and your doctors that you will not try to take your life. We write it up in whatever language suits you, but it boils down to a promise that you will not harm yourself for a certain period of time. Feel like signing one? If you do, and if we believe it’s in good faith, we’ll remove the restraints.”

“Fuck you.”

“Why are you so angry, Lark?”

“Fuck you, Larry!” Lark has shimmied to the edge of the seat and is struggling to stand up. The jacket ruins her balance and the anger ruins her equilibrium. The combination keeps her tumbling backward into the seat.

“I’m going to have to get an orderly if you cannot control your temper.”

“Fuck you, Daddy!”

“Lark?”

“Don’t hurt me anymore, Daddy.”

Larry stands and quietly moves toward Lark.

“Get away!” Lark spits as she whips her head from side to side until her hair has completely covered her face.

“Lark, what do you want to say to your daddy?”

Lark’s breathing becomes forced and shallow, and from behind her hair, she starts to wheeze as she tries to take in air. “Please don’t hurt me, Daddy…I can’t breathe. Get off. It hurts.”

“Do you need your inhaler?”

“Yes,” she gasps as Larry reaches for the device tucked beside her in her chair. He holds it up to her mouth and gently calms her down enough to get her to take several inhalations. As Lark’s breathing returns to normal, Larry moves away.

“Are you back with us?”

Lark nods, still slumped.

“I want you to know we all support you.”

“Yeah, we do,” Melanie interrupts. “I know how you feel. I know you hate your dad—I hate my father-in-law. I thought about getting him a gift for Father’s Day this year but I blew it off. Screw him. He gets me the cheapest presents for my birthday, so screw him. I love the Sharper Image catalog. That’s where I usually got him something but I didn’t this year. Besides, I was here. I mean I am here,” she laughs, “so I said to Elwin, I said, ‘if your father—’”

“Melanie? I’m sure Lark appreciates your support. Now, maybe someone else has something to say?”

“Lark?” Kristen practically whispers. “I know we’re not close friends or anything, but if you want to talk you can come to my room. I’m not having visitors this weekend so I’ll be around.” Kristen begins to cry.

“Why are you crying?” Larry moves toward Kristen.

Boy does he have his hands full today.

“I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Are you sad that you’re not having visitors?”

Isabel feels envious. Her parents are visiting for the first time, and while part of her is excited about it, the other part dreads it immensely.

Kristen blows her nose. “It gets so lonely here on the weekends.”

“Yeah, and the food’s not as good.” Ben nods in agreement.

“I hear that,” Larry says. “Things are slow on weekends on purpose. We feel time off from group sessions and individual sessions can be useful for patients. Sometimes it can give you time to think, time to write in your journals, time to process everything.

“Getting back to Lark, though. Isabel? It looked like you wanted to say something.”