Thunder Through My Veins by Gregory Scofield

Author:Gregory Scofield
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Doubleday Canada
Published: 2019-09-09T16:00:00+00:00

14

A Light in My Heart

• •

THE NEXT MORNING as Mom and I drove into Vancouver, an unsettling silence stood between us. I felt as if I was the cause of her life’s suffering, yet at the same time I felt completely betrayed, angry at her for her lack of nerve.

A wave of utter panic swept through me as we pulled into the parking lot of the Vancouver General Hospital. Unlike the first time, it appeared overwhelmingly cold and institutional. I thought about making a break for it, but where would I go? There was no escape from the social workers, the doctors, all the people who controlled our lives. We were at their mercy.

The Adolescent Psychiatric Unit was not at all what I expected. It was considerably larger, more like a group home. The living room was spacious and comfortable, decorated with colourful wildlife pictures, a couple of overstuffed sofas and recliners, and a big-screen TV and VCR, complete with numerous video games and movies. The kitchen and dining room were combined into one big room. A large rectangular table and chairs accommodated the unit’s fourteen residents and staff. Directly across the way was a small classroom that held desks and bookshelves, correspondence material, various books and school supplies.

The reception area was located by the main door and was covered completely by Plexiglas, as medication was dispensed there. A long hallway ran throughout the unit and on either side were offices and bedrooms. At the north end of the unit were the offices of the head psychiatrist and ward supervisor. Opposite the main door were two separate washrooms and a small, unfurnished, padded room, which I later discovered was the “time-out room.”

After our tour we were greeted by Dr. McQuade, the head psychiatrist. He was typical of the doctors I had seen at PAU: middle-aged and balding, impeccably dressed. Though he seemed friendly and welcoming, I took an instant dislike to him. He led us to his office where we were introduced to the ward supervisor, a petite middle-aged South Asian woman named Nan Sharma. I shook her hand coldly and took my seat. She gave Mom a warm smile, shook her hand, and then directed her to the chair beside mine before introducing the rest of the group.

The two youth-care workers that had been assigned to my case were Michael DuBois and Carrie Smith. Both were in their mid-twenties and appeared friendly and eager to help. Too eager, I thought. Lastly, we were introduced to Ann, the schoolteacher. She flashed us a polite smile, then focused her attention on Dr. McQuade.

Dr. McQuade rambled on for a good hour about the program, stopping periodically to ask if Mom or I had any questions. He finally finished and excused himself, saying that he had other patients to see. I remember thinking, Yeah, like I signed up to be one of your goddamn patients. I hoped it would be the last I saw of him, and I could tell by the look on Mom’s face she felt the same.

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