"My Prison-Cure in America", Chapter 5
Adapted from Annemarie Schwarzenbach, by Cleo Varra
Content warning: Involuntary psychiatric hospitalization
Read previous: #4. How Did You Get Into This Situation!
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Bellevue Hospital, New York City-- 1941
A minute ago, all I had wanted was for the Sister to answer me. Now we were both so silent, as if we shouldn't disturb each other.
When I looked up after a while, she had leaned forward a little on her chair, and had wrapped the white robe around herself like a blanket.
She met my gaze calmly, but her eyes were full of tears.
ー“Listen to me,” I said. “Look at me. —I'm going to fight back. I can't bear this."
The Sister recovered and said softly, “If you talk to Matron like that, you'll be tied up again.”
I shook my head.
--“I'm just telling you”, I said, -- "I'm going to leave here. Tonight."
I looked at the solid bars of the window, the closed walls. My eyes slid down the dimly lit corridor.
— “I don't know how it will be possible--
--But staying here is impossible, impossible...."
When she didn't answer, I almost begged. “It's impossible, Sister!-- You care for the sick, you should know. There are things that cannot be endured. There is too much pain. Then you faint, or you die of a broken heart. Something has to come to your aid!"
But she didn't seem to be listening.
—“I'll help you get dressed now,” she said.
—“Your things will be taken to the room where you're sleeping tonight. You're with a lot of decent people there. You will soon feel quite well."
***
She handed me my tan pants, my blue shirt, my white shoes.
My tan pants, my blue shirt, my white shoes. (1940. Photo: Collection of Erika Mann).
***
A few buttons were missing from my shirt, which had been ripped off in the fight with the officers.
—“Also my belt and my watch,” I said. I had trouble getting dressed.
As I reached into my pockets, I found my matches, money, and knife gone. And my papers!
The Sister watched me.
"You can't wear belts here", she explained.
— "Your things are all in the office, don't worry about them."
—"But my matches?"
I suddenly remembered that it had been a long time since I’d smoked.
I imagined the pleasure of lighting a cigarette and taking long, deep drags.
I would sit on the bed, and wait to see what they decided to do about me next.
I would be very calm.
"One cigarette," I asked her. "Then we'll talk more."
She hesitated. —“Well, you might be allowed…. The nurse in the hall has the cigarettes. She also has matches."
I didn't answer her. I had walked to the door, and then had to collect my breath.
It shouldn't have been a surprise to me.
I was very weak. I hadn't eaten all day, except some spoonfuls of the soup. I didn't want to think about how I had spent the night before. It made me sweat on my forehead.
You had to forget it as quickly as possible, and keep your wits about you.
You had to stand and walk upright, down this endless gray corridor, out of sight of the Sister who followed. You walked and you walked, for despite everything, your legs still could manage to carry your weight.
*****
Three corridors opened into a small lobby, leading to the front door, and at both ends of each corridor stood a guard, legs apart, threatening.
But one let me pass by, unhindered.
I heard the Sister say, “Turn left".
In fact, we weren’t in a ward, but in a kind of living room. Wicker chairs lined the walls, and a few dusty plants stood in the corners. A cat slept, curled up on a table stacked with magazines.
--"Here," said the Sister,- "Sit down for a while. They bring the food from the main house at six o'clock.”
The guard on the threshold looked at me, as I walked past to the table. I had wanted to put my hand on the cat's softly shimmering back. I stopped.
— Will it always go on like this, I wondered. But it was only later that I understood the full horror of the words constant surveillance. For the time being, I was in a strange, almost joyous state of tension.
The guard turned away, apparently indifferent.
***
I forgot about the Sister, and went past the guard to the lobby. In front of a telephone board with her back to me sat a woman who must surely be the Matron.
I bowed a little and, embarrassed, involuntarily reached into my pocket. To my astonishment, I found a crumpled pack of cigarettes which they had apparently forgotten before.
The Matron smiled, and handed me a lit match.
Then she let me have the box, perhaps out of negligence, because there was a light on the switchboard. Two lights came on, and she grabbed wires and turned away from me.
I smoked.
I had measured everything with my eyes now: the height of the walls, the tiny windows. Darkness could be seen, outside of the locked main door. It must be six o'clock soon.
I put out my cigarette.
--"Head Nurse", I said. She turned her head a little, and seemed to greet me with a friendly smile.
--“Can I reach the doctor.”-
--”It's Saturday. The doctors won't come until tomorrow evening.”
--”Tomorrow will be too late.” I got no answer.
--“Couldn't you make a phone call? - It's urgent. I have to reach someone.”
I started pacing, then stopped next to the board.
--”Can I make a call?” I asked.
She shrugged her shoulders impatiently. “Patients are not allowed to use the phone,” she said.
--”I will tell the doctor you wish to see him; but he did pay you a visit today. What is it you wanted to tell him?"
I wanted to drop the conversation. But then? What would be left for me then? I said firmly, “I want to go."
But it was as if I hadn’t said anything at all.
Something choked me in my throat.
I forced myself to speak in a low, calm voice. The walls begin to circle around me.
“I have to go, tonight. If I can't touch the phone, speak for me. You must be able to reach someone.
There are doctors in charge, there are directors, police officers, consuls, and lawyers.
--I didn't ask to be brought here, but protested right from the beginning. Even now, I’m not asking you to do anything. I only want you to listen to me.
If you’ll just listen to me, I’ll assure you that I blame no one and harbor no ill-will. I will not insist on my rights. I have no intentions of taking revenge. I will pay for everything.
I will be the same as before.
I wasn't injured.
I don’t want anything.
I will help myself. If you just let me go, then everything will be forgotten.
As I talked like this, shamelessly, and while the Matron, bent over some scribbling, did not even answer me, I felt choked with the agony of the approaching defeat. It didn’t make sense, didn’t make sense! --And I wanted to give in, fall down, hide my face forever.
— If my brother could see me now!—
—But, thank God, nobody could see me now….--
***
They came soon, two guards, a young officer, and I willingly followed them. --"Your door, number 5A, is at the back," I heard them say. I wondered why they grabbed my arms from either side, as if I couldn't walk alone.
And we left.
*****
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Cover image and quote from Madness Network News.
