Leaving

 The days go by, one after the other, and you can't recognize the passage of time anymore. Until one morning, after breakfast, your nurse steps into your room. 

"The doctor wants to see you today after lunch. He's assessing your current status and whether you can be discharged soon."

You have already gotten used to the routines: waking up at 7.30, eating breakfast at 7.45, the smokes in between meals, leaving out for one walk per day, and going to bed before the sun sets. And then, it all suddenly changes. 

I've always felt a sense of melancholy on the last day at the ward. It's a strange feeling, because yes, I do want to go home, and I am happy I am finally given the chance to leave. But in some ways, I latch onto the environment, the people, both nurses and other patients. I merge in with them, we become one inside my head. It's a community I feel I belong in, and everyone knows how little I have experiences of belonging anywhere. So I guess I want to hold onto any smidgen of it – even the very weird ones.

But I'm relieved. I'm relieved things are finally a bit better. I can inhale and exhale a bit lighter, and my head is filled with thoughts of all kinds, not only just "kill yourself right now". I look at myself in the mirror, and I feel like there is a bit of color on my cheeks again. And the moment–

The moment feels right. 

departure.

 The doctor looks at me smiling when I step into his office. I sit down, and he greets me. "How are you feeling today?"

"Good", I say, chucking. "A lot better than when I came here, for sure." He smiles at my response and goes over the record files one last time.

"That is relieving to hear. Your bloodwork seems to be all okay now, your mood seems to be a lot higher. Your nurses told me you're not as suicidal anymore; is that right?"

I tell the doc the same I'd told the nurses; that I am no longer actively planning my suicide, though the thought of committing is forever etched into my brain. To expect me to be free of all suicidal thoughts and behavior would put me in a lifelong hospital stay, because I have those thoughts every day. The only thing I am asking for is for them to be more bearable, quieter, tolerable. As I am talking, the doctor looks at me with a sad expression on his face. It makes me feel a sharp ping in my chest. God, I hope he doesn't pity me.

"Well, in that case, I think we have accomplished what we wanted to, is that right?" I nod as a response. "Good. Well then, it was good to have you here. Hope you'll continue feeling better at home too."

I stand up, smile at the doctor and take a step toward the door. For one last time, I turn around, look at him, and I say, 

"Thank you for treating me like a human being."

With gratitude, 

ichigonya

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CHAPTER 8: HOSPITAL – END