saving patient leonard

Every day at five o'clock, the dinner cart was rolled down to the dining area. Meals were the only time we could exercise any control over our day. We ordered our meals for the next day at breakfast. A Xeroxed paper was presented to us with a stubby dull pencil. On the paper was the next day's menu options. Caffeine and chocolate were strictly prohibited. They messed with your sleep pattern as well as the efficacy of certain meds. The menu was standard hospital fare, low on the quality and heavy on the simple carbs. If none of the options were appealing to you, there were write-in options; basic items like sandwiches and bags of chips. The homeless people ordered menu options and wrote in extras. For example, Dominic would circle one of the entrees, write in "(1) cheeseburger (1) turkey sandwich (3) bags of chips" in the space provided, and continue circling other options and ordering multiple beverages and condiments. His meals often came on two trays. Anything I didn't eat I offered to Dominic and he took it. As you can imagine, meals become very important in the absence of normal existence; freedom.
The front wheels of our dinner cart appeared in the doorway of the Group Room. Like Pavlovian dogs we all sat watching it. Usually the Group Leaders would wrap up quickly upon a meal cart arrival. Mimi continued on her quest to convert us to born again virgins. She finally wrapped up by looking at us imploringly and stating, "I will not waste my sexuality on just anybody. I will wait for my knight in shining armor. That's right, I'm holding out for a hero! I know where I am going when I die. Do you? (I swear on my life and the life of my puppy- she said this.) Enjoy your dinner."
Dave muttered, "Good Luck, lady." and we filed out the door.
I turned to Leonard and said, "You weren't buying that right wing nut job's load of shit, were you?" He fixed his eyes above my head and said, "Actually, I think she had a lot of good points. The things she said...about stuff that guys do...maybe if I hadn't done that stuff, my girlfriend wouldn't have left me." I dropped the subject. Lenny had been on the unit for 3 days. He'd had a few too many and announced to his fellow patrons of his favorite bar that he intended to jump off a bridge onto the I-88 tollway. He worked in the trades, was a rabid White Sox fan, looked like a tall version of Edward Norton (the American History X actor, not the Honeymooners guy), was very extroverted and very typical in his regular guy-ness. When Lenny "shared" in Group, it was usually about his girlfriend leaving him and how it was all his fault. I think this was his first foray into introspection, not to mention anything "mental health" related. He was three days sober and obviously highly suggestible. Later, over our dinner of write-in grilled cheese sandwiches, I told Pearson, "We may have to de-program Lenny."
"No way. You think he was listening to that?" Pearson was such a great kid. On her first day, I could not understand why she was in the hospital. She had an easy smile that never seemed to be off her face. She was smart and had great social skills. She made me feel welcome and I was there prior to her. In groups, she spoke about her depression and anxiety matter-of-factly. It wasn't until almost a month later, while we were in the Partial Hospital Program, that she pulled up her sleeve and showed me. Hundreds of lines covered her fair skin from wrist to elbow. In varying shades of pink and red, faded to vibrant, old and new, smooth and scabbed, all horizontal, some slightly diagonal, all approximately the same size. They overlapped in curious patterns. Like a scar tissue scorecard; every hurt, every stress, every disappointment tallied up, for life.
"Oh, yeah he was." As if on cue, Mimi and Lenny appeared in the hallway, deep in conversation. I nodded in their direction. "Check it out."
Pearson turned to look. She turned back with an exasperated expression and nodded. "We'll get him after night meds." she said with her eyes narrowed in a conspiratorial fashion.
"Night Meds" were distributed after the last Group Meeting of the day around nine p.m. We were allowed to watch television in the Community Room until 11 p.m. From 9 until 11, the atmosphere of the Community Room became increasingly more festive as the sleep medication kicked in. The first night I took my sleep meds, I suddenly sat up and asked, "Do you guys feel like you have hats on your heads? I feel like I have a little hat on my head." Then I wished them all a good night and stumbled to my room, singing. I have no recollection of this.
Fortunately, we didn't have to wait for Lenny's salvation. Lenny and I were visitor-challenged. I didn't want any visitors. I didn't tell anybody where I was. I didn't call anybody. I didn't care if I ever saw anybody again. I had concocted a rock solid suicide plan for when I got out, so it made no difference anyway. I didn't need anybody around "guilting" me into sticking it out. Lenny's friends consisted of the guys he worked with. He recently got fired for taking "side jobs." These are jobs done on a tradesperson's own time, supposedly with their own materials, for a fraction of the price. The employers feel that the job should be referred back to the company. Taking a side gig is seen as cutting in on the company's business. Truthfully, most owners/employers look the other way. This kind of thing is a given in the trades. However, if you come to work hung over too many times or if the boss is looking for a reason...you just gave him one. None of his work friends knew Lenny was on the unit. His girlfriend was currently packing her belongings. Despite all of Lenny's self-flagellation, it seemed she took off whenever the finances got tight. I pointed this out to Lenny as we sat together in the Community Room during visiting hours (6-8), "Lenny, you say she left when you were layed off. She left during your apprenticeship when you weren't making that much dough. She left when you were injured. She's leavin' now. Do you see a pattern, here?" He considered it. "What does she do?" I asked.
"Whaddya mean?" he countered. He was actually tearing up. His eyes turned from blue to aqua as his face reddened.
"For a living...does she work?" I was snarky. Lenny was a cute guy.
"No...she was going to school...for a while...but I didn't care! I told her she didn't have to work!" Lenny was defensive.
"Uh-Huh!" I said. Snarky, Snarky, Snarky. He was tall. Basketball tall. "Lenny, I'm gonna be honest with you. You won't be alone for long. You're a cute guy. You make decent money. You're tall. Chicks'll be all over ya." Lenny had been kind of hanging his head. Looking down, under the table as we talked. He smiled a little when I said this. It slowly spread until even his eyes were smiling.
"Thanks. Thank you." He held his head high. "Well," he said as he stood up, "I think I'm gonna go take a shower while my roomate's out of the room....." he paused in the hallway at his door, "so I can do that masturbation thing!"
Lenny was back in the fold.