fourth floor - the musical

I have been thinking about my time on the psych ward. How really, really terrible it was. It may seem like a time to relax and reflect. It really wasn't. It was a place where everybody is waiting, counting down, till the day they can get out. Just outside the windows, one floor down, there was a lovely garden terrace. I would watch the hospital staff go out and enjoy their lunch in the warm sunshine. Wondering if they knew how lucky they were to be out there. And now i feel lucky every morning when i go out and the sun is warming the gravel on our driveway. I take that first step off the porch and think of all the things i have to do to make sure i never end up back on that fourth floor.

While i was there i was desperately bored and terrified. There was nothing to do to take my mind off of it. So, i wrote a little musical number. A theatre impromptu. We turned up the radio loud. It was an old blues station. We danced up and down the halls. We pushed the grandma's in their wheelchairs. And we laughed for a few moments.

I have gone back to visit a few times. Once i brought bubbles and we laughed as we chased them around the television room. Then i brought a blow-up beach ball and we played a mini round of soccer. Grandma cheering us on.