There’s a Crack in Everything: Beautiful People

CHAPTER 11

This was supposed to be one of the better inpatient mental health care facilities. It was my first so I didn’t really have anything to compare it to, and took the other patients’ word for it. The most tenured among them spoke with an air of authority like hearing from your sommelier about which wine goes best with the braised beef with the heroin addiction or the grilled salmon with SI.

It was only a few years old, no tears in the Naugahyde or chairs with broken legs, no marks on the walls, both TVs had good reception, the food was pretty decent if you didn’t mind eating it with your hands. This was not the first time in for most patients. They talked about how much nicer this hospital was than others.

The beautiful gaunt young woman on meth said this was her twentieth time in this facility. TWENTIETH! And that’s not counting other facilities. She said she liked this facility because it was the nicest facility, but she was only talking about the physical facility, not the treatment. According to the other patients, the treatment at any of the facilities was a laugh. Across the board, no one spoke of the effectiveness of treatment unique to any one place. All they seemed to offer was a place to dry out and possibly clear your head.

Friday came, and Rick and I would be leaving. They processed Rick first. I was so thankful that I wouldn’t be there without Rick. He had become a friend. His regular kindnesses to others helped me to hold onto…