V. Paul
These last two entries are the hardest to write. Human beings experience an untold amount of personal, internal, and external changes throughout their lifetime. Some experience changes that for them to change overnight. For me, this was one of them.
Paul was 24, from Bay Ridge, and extremely unhealthy. Standing at around 6 feet with jet black hair in a style that looked like he was a member of the Beatles. Big black eyes and a rail thin body. I could see his bones under neath his clothes. Paul could not sit down or stay still for the life of him and when he did sit down, he would look around and stare at you long enough to where you would have to ask if he had a question, only to see him look away and out into space. His voice was extremely slurred and could barely managed any conversation. He would ask random questions like how you get old contacts back on an iPhone or have I heard of some hip-hop star.
Paul was going into the detox wing for Heroin and Oxy use. There were a dozen different papers we had to fill out before the intake process started. He didn't know how to fill any of them, the poor man really had destroyed his body and mind. Twice he went outside to throw up on the sidewalk before his girlfriend came in. I could see his embarrassment that there was blood in his throw up. The complete opposite of Paul, she was tiny, 5 foot, blonde hair and healthy looking. She filled out all his paper work for him, talking him through every step. Right before he left to go upstairs his girlfriend told him to get better and she’ll be back to pick him up before Christmas, gave him a kiss and she left. Man that one stung. It was sad to see his condition but at least he had a partner that didn't want to give up on him. Even in his *extreme* case.
The intake process somehow screwed up my living arrangement and there were no rooms available on the rehab floor so I had to spend the first week in the detox wing, which was ever the more intense and eye opening. It was pure nightmare fuel. The detox wing was set up like a jail because that's what it looked and felt like. barred windows, poorly made beds, a “TV” room that only had 4 channels and even worse food. I stuck out like a sore thumb as everyone else on this floor would wander the halls in a blank trance, fall asleep in random places or throw up almost constantly. No one ate food because their bodies couldn't digest anything so I ate alone, read alone, watched TV alone and spent time in my room looking out the window where there was only silence and the sound of cars driving down the street.
Paul was in the worst condition out of everyone. after several nights he became even paler, nodding off in a chair only to wake up to throw up and grab his stomach like something was about to burst out. How did I make it here? What is this hell I’m in? I had butterflies in my stomach every moment and couldn't believe what my life had turned into. I didn’t sleep at night because when I started to drift into sleep, I would be awakened by the other patients crying, screaming or throwing up. Time was in a permeant state of slow motion. I only slept by crying myself into a coma that lasted 2–3 hours every night.
It was the fifth or sixth night.
It was around 3 am, I spent most of my night again looking out the window watching the city skyline when I started to hear noises. I could hear moans and what sounded like hands or feet slapping against the tile floor. I walked out of my room and heard the sounds coming from two rooms down. I knocked on the door and opened it. It was Paul, naked in a dark room, his room in complete shambles, bloody vomit was everywhere and on his body. I guess he was trying to crawl to the door but had no strength to do so. I had never seen such a sight in my life, nothing of this terrifying magnitude.
I had no idea what to do, but I lifted him up and sat him up from the ground and he threw up again, blood and bile on his body and my shirt, trying to speak but his vocal cords failed him. I could only guess that the withdraw and dependance was so bad that his body was shutting down or going into arrest, organ failure or ulcers that ruptured in his stomach and it was literally killing him. I ran out of the room and called for a nurse, for security. No one came, no one was on the floor, again I was alone in a unwinnable situation I had no control over.
I went back into the room, grabbed a towel, soaked it in cold water from the shower room and wrapped it around Paul, he was burning up, his skin felt like fire. I hoped that the cold might relieve some pain, but he started shaking with no control over his body. I almost feel his bones shaking and moving in their sockets. He finally managed to speak, shivering, teeth shattering.
“Cant. don't. I have to go home. I promised. Promised.”
Speaking seemed to hurt more than what he was physically going through. I told him its ok and I won't leave. The shaking was getting out of control, and he cried out that this is stupid, he can’t die. I ran out of the room and banged on every door and kicked opened the emergency exit, so the alarms went off. After a few minutes a nurse and security guard came up the stairs. I learned the nurse was tending to a patient on a lower level. They were short staffed because of covid so instead of 3 nurses in the building at night there was only one, which made everything worse, clearly.
When the nurse and I went back into the room, Paul was lying flat and unresponsive. The security man called 911 and the nurse was trying to wake him up and started to do CPR and get the vomit out of his mouth. There was a hospital on the corner, so it only took a few minutes of paramedics to arrive. They put Paul on a stretcher and took him away. The nurse told me to wait here and she’ll be right back. So there I was again, alone, bloody vomit on my arms and clothes, in a total shock I couldn't think, I could barely breath. I stumbled to the bathroom, took of my shirt and washed my arms. I looked in the mirror and saw total horror. What was happening to me? Is this part of it? How? Why The nurse came back, helped me get clean and took me to her station to check my blood pressure, draw blood and give me a heavy cocktail of antibiotics for safety.
I didn't sleep, clearly. That morning I went down in the elevator to the main floor for a group therapy session. Walking down the hall all the employees said good morning and offered thanks for trying to help with what happened last night. I could barely manage a response, instead I just nodded. Right before I got to the lecture hall the Director of Operations came out and stopped me. She thanked me for trying to help Paul last night and for putting myself at risk. She said my family must be proud of my character. I laughed and responded, I’m pretty sure at least my dog thinks so. She gave me a hug and went into her office.
Just before I went into the session I could hear screaming in the lobby where I was when I arrived and met Paul. Loud, upset screaming. I peeked through the doors and saw Paul's girlfriend yelling at all the nurses and employees that were present. Her screams were so loud I couldn't understand what she was saying. I thought I probably shouldn't, but I walked through the door and said “hey, how is Paul, I hopes ok”. She spun around looked at me with such rage, such uncertainty. red eyes and makeup running down her face. She said nothing and ran out the front door.
She didn't need to say anything, it was pretty clear that Paul was gone. I walked back to the elevators and went back to my room. I cried. I wailed. I had no idea how to process this. Was I supposed to witness this? Is this karma? I tried to help someone who last fucking words I hear were ‘I can't die’. How do you take that in? I felt defeated, I let Paul down, I let his girlfriend down, just like I let my family down. Did Paul symbolize what my life is now going to be like when I leave this place? Alone accompanied by pain of death? It hurt, my hands shook violently against my face and screamed into my pillow that this wasn't right. If this was a test how can I know I when I tried and failed? Was I supposed to?
What happened changed something in me over night. I saw what evil truly was and couldn't tell if it was here to stay or if I was now in some endgame. Whatever it was, I was different. I couldn't identify yet if it was a personal rebirth or PTSD that was here to stay, but the method it took to get me there almost didn't seem ethical or fair or correct.
Inpatient Intermission: Here I will lay
Before you put my body in the cold ground, take some time to warm it with your hands.
I have to go. I just want to say I’m in love with you and I’m more than the skin of my teeth. I digress. I am a mess, I’m in love with you. I will go without water or sleep. I’m a Ghost. I can’t say I know that I’m even here or is this some eternal test. Holy crow. I’ll never know if it’s more or less. No reset.
You shall be my roots and I will be your shade, though the sun burns my leaves. You shall quench my thirst and I will feed you fruit, thought time takes my seed. And when I am lost and can tell nothing of this earth, you will give me hope. My voice you will always hear. My hand you will always have. For I will shelter you and I will comfort for you. And even when I am nothing left, even in my death I will be with you.
-House of Leaves & Brand New
