[[September 10, 2008]]
“Deena? Deena?” It was the fifth time she’d repeated the girl’s name and there was still no response. The redheaded girl sat quietly on the couch, eyes staring blankly at the wall. Dr. Yamada glanced at the wall but, like the other four times, there was nothing there. It was the same creamy white it’d been since the beginning of the session. Unfortunately, her car had decided to blow a flat tire today and she’d barely gotten a spare on in time to arrive just ten minutes late. Despite her oft-repeated instructions, the staff had placed the patient in her office before she’d arrived. She liked to use the introduction and the walk to her office as a way to know her patient better. She’d also long-ago realized that the physical activity of walking tended to wake patients from their stupors (if they were prone to do so). Otherwise, she was stuck in this current scenario, futilely trying to get her patient to respond to her. With a sigh, the psychiatrist looked down at the case paper in front of her.
Quote:
INTAKE FORM
FIRST NAME: Nadine
LAST NAME: Ellis
ADDRESS: 917 Capalano Drive, Lynne, New York 19377
DATE OF BIRTH (AGE) : May 13, 2000 (8)
SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER: 547-59-1133
SEX: [ ] MALE [X] FEMALE
OCCUPATION: N/A
EMERGENCY CONTACT
NAME: Carol Ellis
ADDRESS: 917 Capalano Drive, Lynne, New York 19377
PHONE NUMBER: 714-849-2200
RELATIONSHIP TO PATIENT: Grandmother
HAIR COLOR: Red
EYE COLOR: Green
BLOOD TYPE: BO
HEIGHT: 3 feet 9 inches
WEIGHT: 57 lbs
ALLERGIES: None
REASON FOR INTAKE: Potential Psychosis leading to violent outbursts, potential self mutilation
DATE OF ADMISSION: September 8, 2008
NOTES FROM INTAKE STAFF: Patient was dropped off by her grandmother (emergency contact: Carol Ellis) and police officers John Ricketts and Sanders Lawrence at 4 pm on September 8, 2008. Patient was screaming and being restrained by police officer Sanders, attempting to bite herself when not yelling. All attempts to calm her failed and eventually staff used tranquilizers to sedate her. At that time, all wounds were treated, mostly scratches, blunt force trauma, and bites. Wounds appear to be self inflicted given their location and severity.
Grandmother explained that her son (Father: Mitch Ellis, Decreased) died a year and a half ago, leaving her with custody of her granddaughter. Throughout this entire time, the patient has suffered these psychotic breaks. Originally, grandmother believed it was just a hyperactive imagination. However, they have increased in frequency and intensity to the point that grandmother does not believe she can provide a safe place for her granddaughter. Grandmother first became aware of the self-inflicted injuries three months ago. She attempted to stop this first by reprimanding the patient and then by covering patient’s hands with gloves. At that time, patient began biting herself and deliberately running into objects (last month). Grandmother had already contacted Glen Hopes to discuss treatment options and was discussing psychologist services when this incident occurred. Severity was so strong that grandmother had to call the police to help subdue patient and bring her in.
Patient historically varies between three ‘states’ according to grandmother: psychotic breaks (in which she claims to see monsters and attempts to injure herself), catatonic state (in which she is unresponsive), and normal child states (acts like a normal child). Patient prefers to be called by her nickname “Deena.”
Standard background checks will be performed on grandmother and father to search for potential abuse and/or medical history of mental illness. Mother is unknown.
INITIAL DIAGNOSIS
PSYCHOLOGIST/PSYCHIATRIST (please circle appropriate): Dr. Jessica Yamada (# 20945)DATE OF EXAMINATION: September 10, 2008DIAGNOSIS: Her frown grew as she read through the data it contained: only eight years old and already admitted. However, it was smart of the grandmother to have sought professional help, especially if Deena was injuring herself. This must be one of the catatonic states the grandmother had mentioned: was there any way to break the girl out of it?
“Deena?” She tried again, to no avail. Dr. Yamada resigned herself to physically waking her patient and reached a hand out. There was no response. She shook the shoulder lightly and it provoked a reaction. Deena spun in her direction and jerked away. Terrified green eyes stared at her in incomprehension and the Japanese woman forced a reassuring smile to her face. “Hello, Deena. My name is Dr. Yamada.” She waited for a return greeting but the girl only stared at her. Her hand subconsciously scrawled two new observations on her notepad:
Check for abuse? Mental development issues? “I’m a psychiatrist. I hear you have a very vivid imagination?” Green eyes immediately dropped away from her as if ashamed and Deena mumbled something incomprehensible. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”
The girl reluctantly glanced upwards, a mix of hope and wariness evident in her demeanor.
“Not my imagination.” She looked back down as if expecting to be chastised.
“Well, perhaps you can tell me about them?” Dr. Yamada offered in a supportive tone. It was more important to figure out what was affecting Deena than quibble over whether or not it was her imagination. Treatment could only come after diagnosis after all. She noted that Deena was fiddling with the gloves on her hands, probably a sign of nervousness. She subconsciously wrote down her observation even as she focused on the girl’s words.
“They’re..” The young face contorted into an unhappy look,
“scary. They don’t like me very much. They keep saying they’ll eat me once they find me.. Or kidnap me or..” Deena glanced away as she trailed off. Was that a sign of unease or was she trying to make something up?
“And sometimes they reach out and..” One hand left her lap to push back at her sleeve, revealing a bruise. It was thin but about an inch or two in length. After a moment, the girl let the sleeve fall back into place, hiding the discoloration from sight.
“They’re scary.” She repeated petulantly as she avoided eye contact.
While Jessica had to admit that the wound did look oddly long for something Deena could have inflicted on herself, Deena hadn’t otherwise described anything unusual. There was nothing that would lead her to think the young girl was mentally ill as opposed to just being very creative. “Could you describe what one of them looks like to me?”
Deena looked up at her but nodded reluctantly.
“One of them looks like a bird-woman…”~~~
“Well, it was nice to talk with you, Deena.” Dr. Yamada smiled at the redheaded girl. Deena had slowly opened up throughout the conversation. Sometimes it was hard to believe the girl was really a patient: she seemed just like a normal eight year old with an imaginative mind. However, the gloves and bandages were constant reminders: was she really ‘normal’? Or was she psychotic like her grandmother claimed? Were those wounds truly self inflicted or had she been driven by some other force? Some of the reactions suggested everything might not be as innocent at home as the intake notes believed. “I’ll see you again in two days, okay?” Deena nodded her head and chirped an
“okay!” before pausing. Her gaze drifted away from Dr. Yamada’s face as if seeing something behind the woman. It was a habit the Japanese woman had noted through their conversation. Deena would randomly go quiet as she stared at some faraway distance. Every time Jessica had turned though, she hadn’t seen anything unusual. Eventually, Deena seemed to return to the present, the green gaze focusing on her once more.
“Uh..” Deena began with surprising hesitance (given how long they’d just chatted),
“Be careful of water on your drive back.” The confusion that had been on her face smoothed out into a smile. “Of course, Deena. Thank you.” With one more wave, Dr. Yamada headed down the hallway to the administrative offices. Her conversation with Deena had taken longer than she’d expected. It was already five o’clock and time to head home. She scanned a copy of her notes and attached them to Deena’s Intake Form, dropping both into the file cabinet. Tonight she’d mull over her conversation with Deena and write up an initial diagnosis. She said her good-byes to the other staff and then headed to her car. The ground was damp and her car covered in water droplets. She wiped down her side-view mirror and then entered the car, flicking on the wipers to clear off the windshield. Had Deena known it was raining? Maybe she had heard the weather today. That was so sweet the redhead was worried about her.
She pulled out of the parking lot and headed onto the highway. Maybe she’d stop at Costco for a quick dinner today. She was trying to be healthier, but she was really craving pizza. She could pick up a Caesar salad for tomorrow while she was there. That counted as being healthy, right? Her car suddenly slid from under her and Jessica slammed the brakes. There was the ominous sound of her wheels spinning but gaining no traction. She was headed straight for the guardrail. She yanked on the steering wheel and the last thing she remembered was a jarring jolt before everything went black.
[[January 2011]]
“Welcome to Wools Mental Hospital, Brian! I’m Tanya; you’ll be working with me while you’re here. We’re in Ward Three. Your job will mostly be helping fulfill the prescriptions, checking on the patients, tidying up the place.. That kind of stuff. You’ll be allowed to sit in on some of the group sessions, but just remember that everything here is con-fi-den-tial!” Tanya rolled her eyes at the newcomer. “Since they’re all mentally messed up, technically everything they say or do is considered confidential. But my god, they do some crazy—”
“LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!” Both nurses stopped at the sudden scream. There was a banging before the screams continued, punctuated by occasional slams. Tanya sighed in irritation even as she pulled out a cell phone. “Sorry, some of them, a little..” She twirled a finger by her temple. “Then again, this
is a crazy ward.. Hey, security? Yeah… Patient 409 is causing a ruckus again.” The senior giggled at whatever response security gave before replying, “Yeah.. better lock her up again before she breaks something
again.” She paused for a response before huffing, “Okay, fine! I’ll get a jacket. God, you could just grab one on your way here. It’s not like there’s any rush… Everyone know she’s always hitting herself, just let her pound on the—ugh, fine. Sure. Sure.” With her free hand, Tanya beckoned Brian to follow her as she starting walking. “Oh, did you hear that Shelly might be preggos? Yeah, I know, hard to tell with all the weight she already has..”
Brian followed Tanya mutely, disbelief evident on his face. There was.. one of the patients was.. and she didn’t even seem to care? The older nurse was still chatting on her phone, now laughing uproariously at whatever Security had said. He looked in the direction of the screaming, which was getting louder, in clear unease. They stopped by an unmarked door that opened to reveal supplies. “Alright. See you soon!” Tanya pocketed her phone and then reached in to pull out a mass of white cloth. It was only when they reached the screaming patient’s room did Brian realize it was a straitjacket.
“I thought.. those weren’t used anymore?” He asked faintly. Why was the jacket so small?
“With that banging? If we put her in her cuffs, she’ll wrench her wrists and ankles out. Again.” Tanya fished out her phone once more and opened up Candy Crush. The squeaky “Delicious!” and “Great!” encouragement from her phone contrasted with the shouting from the door across from them. At a loss on what to do, Brian picked up the file for the patient whose room they were loitering by.
Quote:
PATIENT DATA
NAME: Nadine
DATE OF BIRTH: May 13, 2000
SEX: [ ] MALE [X] FEMALE
BLOOD TYPE: AB
HEIGHT: 4 feet 2 inches
WEIGHT: 70 lbs
ALLERGIES: None
MEDICATION: Tiothixene, Valium
MENTAL ILLNESSES: Psychosis, Violent outbursts, Self mutilation
HISTORY: September 8, 2008: Patient admitted to Glen Hopes Psychiatric Institute.
September 14, 2008: Initial diagnosis performed by Dr. Myles. Strongly suspected as having psychosis. Recommended admittance as permanent resident. Re-evaluate in three months.
December 17, 2008: Patient appears to have become more delirious despite care. Re-evaluate in three months.
January 3, 2009: Patient attacked one of the new nurses. Nurse sent to hospital to treat injuries. Recommended higher security on patient.
January 5, 2009: Patient attacked security guard. Security guard sent to hospital for broken arm.
January 10, 2009: Patient experiencing high levels of psychosis. Begin Chlorpromazine prescription (Approved: Dr. Myles)
February 1, 2009: Patient not responding to Chlorpromazine. Switch to Nosinan (Approved: Dr. Myles)
August 20, 2009: Patient upgraded to Perphenazine (Approved: Dr. Petia)
September 13, 2009: Glen Hopes destroyed by tornado. Patient transferred to Wools Mental Hospital. Dr. Ignas Hardy (ID # 69779) assigned as new psychiatrist.
October -- Flipping through the sheets, Brian felt sorry for the poor lady. It seemed as if she had a terrible case of psychosis to the point she only functioned as either catatonic or violent. It also looked like none of the treatment was working, to have gone from Chlorpromazine to Nosinan and now to Tiothixene in just two-three years. The sound of low talking caught his attention and he looked up to see two security guards stroll into view. The two men came to a stop by Tanya and the three chatted amicably, seemingly unaware of the shouting coming from the room right next to them. Eventually, Brian had to cut in, “Excuse me? The patient is still..” he tried to think of a better word than shouting. If she was just crying out, it’s not like they necessarily could do anything to treat her. There was a loud bang as the wall next to them shuddered. “Uh, yeah, she might be injured?”
None of the other three Wools employees looked impressed. If anything, they seemed more exasperated than anything. The younger security guard heaved a sigh and withdrew his taser. “God, I hope she stays down this time.” He grumbled as he pointed the weapon at the door.
“Tell me about it, I don’t think my gut can handle another punch.” The other officer agreed, unlocking the door with a key. He looked more like a man busting into a criminal’s den than a mental ward employee. “Anyone ever figure out why she’s so freakishly strong anyways?”
“All those voices in her head must make her immune to the pain or something.” The first security guard joked, creeping closer to the door. “Alright, open it on: One, two,--”
The door slammed open and the patient halted at the sudden sound. Crazed green eyes stared in their direction even as the guard shot the taser. The redhead screamed at the current of electricity and flailed. Somehow the prongs fell aside and then she was running at them.
“LET ME—” She screamed again and then crumpled to the ground, twitching as electricity ran through her. This time, however, she remained paralyzed.
“Quickly! Before it runs out.” Brian shook himself from his shocked stupor at Tanya’s words, blindly accepting the straitjacket shoved in his hands. The three men advanced on the patient, wary as if she was a crazed beast waiting to lash out. Brian didn’t quite understand what was going on but followed the others’ lead. My god, she was so tiny! He doubted she’d even come to his chest! But she didn’t look like a dwarf either. They’d gotten both arms into the sleeves and were zipping up the back when the patient unexpectedly struck out. One hand slammed into the security guard’s chest, knocking the older man backwards. The younger guard retaliated by striking the tiny woman and in the moment of dizziness, locked the hands in place. He roughly zipped up the back and then finished tying the sleeves. “Little menace,” he muttered as he hauled the patient onto her bed. Panicked green eyes begged him not to go but he walked away without a backwards glance. Brian looked uncertainly between the terrified patient and the now leaving employees. Should he stay? Should he go with them? He was just an intern so they would know better than him, but somehow this didn’t seem quite right. He wavered for a moment more and then with an apologetic look at the redhead, darted out the door after his colleagues, scooping up her file (why had he brought it in with him anyways?) on the way out. She was a grown up, she could look after herself. He dropped the file in its holder, instinctively scanning it to make sure it was the right chart.
NAME: Nadine
DATE OF BIRTH: May 13, 2000 He had just turned to follow his colleagues when he paused.
DATE OF BIRTH: May 13, 2000 2000 The conversation of the other employees drifted past his ears
“Tanya, stop feeding her so many wheaties!”
“I don’t feed her anything special! God, I’d feed her less if I could.”
but he was too horrified to move.
The screaming. Tonya’s nonchalant attitude. The small straitjacket. The tasers. The backhand strike. Those terrified green eyes staring up at him. She was only eleven?
[[June 2013]]
Nadine?
Nadine! Nadine!
This is mommy! This is mommy!
Nadine, answer me! ..swer me!..me!
Nadine..
Where are you?!
Where are you?!
Where are you?!
Patient 203 flinches, her head jerking a fraction to the left before stilling. A machine beeps at the sudden spike in heart rate. Another hisses as it dispenses another 1 milligram of Lunesta. The patient relaxes, previously furrowed eyebrows smoothing out as the drug takes effect. It’s another day at the Schatz Institute for Psychiatric Treatment.
[[July 2013]]
Time. It’s a relative thing. What is a brief moment of joy can be a year of suffering for someone else. Really, it depends on perspective. For a young man, a year can drag on forever; for an old man, a year flies by. Imagine what it must be like for an Olympian. After over three thousand years alive, a year is like the blink of an eye. Without conscious thought, decades have rushed past before a god or goddess can even realize it.
Unfortunately, knowing that doesn’t solve her current problem. Alise was currently burying her face in her hands as if they held the answer to her problems. Finally, she peeked up through her fingers to look at the black-haired woman across the room from her. The woman was shrouded in a dark robe though it did little to hide the natural dignity she exuded. Her arms were crossed defensively over her chest though a light smattering of pink was still visible on her cheeks, a clear sign of her embarrassment.
“Heccaatteeeee! What do you
mean you lost your daughter?!” The satyress finally burst out, her hands dropping from her face from the force of her disbelief. “You’re the goddess of the crossroads! You freaking found Persophene when Hades absconded with her. Shouldn’t this stuff be natural for you? How can you not find your
own daughter?!”
“Silence, Alise!” Vivid green eyes, which had been stubbornly avoiding her gaze earlier, now swung towards the satyress to pin her in place. Color rose on the goddess’s pale face in reflection of her current temper. Hecate did
not appreciate being scolded. After a moment or two of high dudgeon, the goddess lost her angered look, deflating into a more weary presence. “It.. I don’t know why I can’t find her! I left her with her father and then there was that mess with Lamia and then Demeter was kicking up a fuss and then..” She too threw her hands up in the air, clearly at a loss. She hadn’t meant to lose sight of Nadine! She had left her daughter in Mitch’s protective care and now the latter was dead and the former missing! “Alise. Just.. just help me find her, okay?”
Alise sighed in resignation. This was like finding a needle in a haystack. Or in several haystacks. Find the missing daughter that even the
goddess of the crossroads couldn’t find. Great. But—“Alright. I’ll ask around and start looking,”—there was no way she could refuse. Hecate had helped her in the past and she owed the goddess. “You know I can’t promise anything, right?” She added cautiously; she didn’t want to give the goddess false hope. The only thing worse than owing a deity a favor was **** off a deity: they could hold grudges for a
really long time. (And though Hecate wasn’t one of the pantheon, she
had been honored by the major three, all the more reason not to anger her.)
Silence stretched between them before the goddess finally said wearily, “Just try your best. I will keep looking as well.” With those words, Hecate picked up her torches and then vanished.
Alise looked at the place Hecate used to stand and then dropped her head back into her hands. Oh Pan, what had she just gotten herself into?
[[December 2013]]
“Ah-choo!” Alise rubbed at her reddening nose, feeling another sneeze threatening to emerge. She looked up at the sky: gray clouds dominated the heavens, sprinkling snow down like confetti. Khione must be happy to be let out to play. With a fond smile at the memory of the nymph, Alise turned her attention back to the building in front of her. “Schatz Institute for Psychiatric Treatment” proclaimed the engraved sign by the entrance.
It had taken a
long time to find Hecate’s daughter. The girl had been shipped all over the East Coast after every hospital or mental facility she’d stayed at suffered some form of destruction: fires, freak earthquakes, tornadoes. It made the already secretive paperwork--meant to protect patient confidentiality--even harder to follow when half the records were missing almost every few years. The increasingly medicine-intensive regimen the girl was subjected to also didn’t help matters. She spent most of the day asleep, seemingly dead to the world. However, Alise had been able to arrange the schedule so that she was Nadine’s nurse this week. She’d removed the medication from the IVs last night so the girl should be awake today. Alise hoped that meant she’d also be lucid.
The satyress rearranged her ankle-length skirt, checking that none of her fur was sticking out, and then walked into the building. Today, if all went well, Camp Half Blood would gain another camper.