State Hospital Crazy

When my mother was still alive she wanted to write a book about her time at the Topeka State Hospital. She had taken notes during her stays and kept most of them. Mom thought it would be good to have her view of it and also my thoughts on what it was like having a parent in the hospital. Good idea...I still have her notes. They are painful to read. She was far braver than I'll ever be. She lived a life filled with more trials and tribulations than any one human should have to face. My life is nothing compared to hers. Her example of facing whatever junk is thrown at you is remarkable and one I'll never live up to.

Mom also gave me permission to write a screenplay based on a weekend overnight stay when she brought her roommates home with her while dad was out of town. Sometime I will get "My Four Things" completed. The other thing will probably never happen. What follows is a glimpse that has been in a notebook for years. None of what I post is meant to be anything other than me just putting thoughts out there. I make no claim of quality but I can vouch for the honesty of almost anything I've posted.

State Hospital Crazy


My mom is crazy. I don't mean like, "Hey, Fryll, your mom is nuts!" I mean all the way mentally ill, insane, nervous breakdown, state hospital crazy. Right now she is on Ward 3, room B. She has roommates. Three other ladies that don't seem very crazy to me. Not like some of her roommates in other times. Wanda rubbed her head so much she had little bald spots. Mom told us not to stare but that can be hard when you are looking at a red headed woman mother age with curly hair and bald spots. She tried to cover the spots with flowers on hair bands or church hats and sometimes what looked like pre -tied Christmas bows from a sack. Trying not to stare was hard. If Court could get my attention sometimes he would scratch his head and I had to fight to keep from laughing. I would pound him later in the car.

We have been meeting new roommates since the summer after kindergarten. Not all the time, but it seems like most of the time. Mom being sick(that's what we call it. I think of it as crazy because that is basically what she was even if we weren't supposed to say it. You can call it whatever you want but if you act like she did when she was "sick", crazy is the word that explains it best, in my opinion) lasted off and on all of first grade. Mom missed my birthday that year, but got to come home for a few days at Christmas.

She got out of the hospital in March and just drove over there during the day. She was an out patient. That lasted up until right before school started when her psychiatrist, Dr. Rosenblatt , shot himself in the head. I know that's what happened. It was printed in the newspaper. The police found him near the monkey island at the zoo. I hope Mom wasn't what caused it.

Second grade she missed my birthday again, but was out for good before Thanksgiving. We all got to drive to Sprockett for the holiday. The day President Kennedy was killed she didn't even know about it until we got home from school. She hadn't had the TV on all day. It was the first time I saw Dad cry. When we got to Texas my cousin, Miranda, said it was against the law to sing that big D, little a, double l, a, s song. Miranda knew lots of stuff. She was the same age as Caitlin but not as mean. I didn't know much about government. I knew they made laws. They must have passed the law against the song in a hurry.

Mom was an out patient again for most of third grade. I wished she would get well. I was happy she was home for my birthday. I got a German chocolate cake. We lived in a new house and I was afraid I was going to get a dog because Courtland and Caitlen wanted one so bad and now we had a big yard that owned not rented. I didn't want one at all. I dreamed I could hear a puppy barking. I don't like dogs ever since the two German shepherds backed me up against a church. I was walking home from school. It was cold and cloudy. I was scared. They kept growling and snapping their teeth. I was in second grade and I tried not to cry. The dog's owner stood across the street and laughed. I'm not kidding. She stood there smoking a cigarette and laughing. Finally, her phone rang and she stamped out her cigarette and clapped twice. The dogs ran across the street and into the house. I was mad and scared and missed my mom. It was right before Halloween so Mom still wasn't out. When I got home it would be our helper, Helen, there. She was nice, but it wasn't the same. I waited until Dad got home and I only told him I'd had a little accident, not about the dogs. I was afraid he'd get mad. I will always remember that he didn't say anything. He just helped me clean up and it was our secret.

As nutty as this sounds when mom gets sick it starts off with her being happy and lots of fun. She has lots of energy and wants to try new fun things. She gets all the housework done and so we barely have to do chores. We don't have to do any of the laundry. Because she already did the day time dishes there is hardly any after supper. When you come home from school you get to play outside. Our rooms and the basement are already picked up. Mom and Dad barely fight and they sleep with the door shut more often. Weekends we get to do fun stuff. Dad mostly doesn't like to go to movies. but once he went with us to Sound of Music. He wouldn't go to South Pacific when we did, but I think that is because some World War II stuff makes him get up and leave the room when it is on TV. He won't let us watch Combat unless it is on the downstairs TV. We even went to the big art museum in Kansas City that has a giant statue of the Buddha. When you stare at a Buddha statue they seem quiet and happy. Dad took lots of pictures of Buddhas in Japan after the war. They looked peaceful even after a war. When Mom is all pepped up she tries out new recipes and the house is still clean. My favorite hyper dish was the spaghetti with a cheesy cream sauce over baked fish with chunks of avocados. It was like eating at a restaurant.

Everything seems nice and if you aren't careful you begin to think that maybe she is well this time. After a week or so she starts staying up late watching Johnny Carson. She reads. That keeps her up even later. There will be a stack of library books by her chair. It gets later and later. It ends up with her not sleeping. That's when you know it is going to happen.

She will go to bed and just not get up. As we get ready for school she might get up. You can bet that as soon as we clear out she lies back down. When we come home from school she gets up and acts like she's been doing stuff all day. You know she hasn't. She gets slower and slower. She gets all draggy and goes back to bed. You can tell she hasn't been picking up as much. Newspaper are left unfolded on the coffee table. Magazines aren't arranged neatly like at a doctor's office. Mom won't remember stuff. At first it isn't anything important. Later after you stay late at school to help put up tether balls she forgets to pick you up. That can lead to a fight.

Dad comes home and there's shouting and cuss words and we get sent to the basement or our rooms so they can "talk." From the basement we can hear the crying and the wailing. Sometimes it can be scary.We turn up the television. The speaker vibrates, but you still can hear. When we finally get to come upstairs for a supper that Dad fixes Mom sits quietly at her place. Her eyes are red and pile of used kleenex grows at her place. Moist wadded up tissues on the table when you are eating supper is unsanitary. It makes me mad that Mom would do that. While we try to eat she sniffles and fights back tears. She looks at you and mouths that she's sorry. I know she means it and that she really is but part of me wants to know...if she really is sorry why can't she work harder to get well? How can she put us through all of this? Is this what growing up is supposed to be like? It doesn't feel like normal to me. When she gets sick I'm the one that has to clean up the kleenex . I want to ask other kids what they do when their moms get sick and go to the state hospital, but I don't have anybody to ask. I figure, well, just one more thing. All part of some program I don't understand or get to vote on. Just one more deal. Before long Mom is back at the hospital and it is almost time for my birthday. Give it a few weeks and we get to start visiting again and meeting the roommates.

I don't understand it. I want to. I don't want to. I don't want to think about it. I don't want it to be. I want normal. I want to go to sleep and wake up and have all of it not the way it is. I'm not bad if I want normal. When mom goes to the hospital I only know one thing for certain. It feels just like when those dogs had me up against the church. I am as alone as it gets except I can't see who is laughing at me. Nobody will help me clean up later. I hate my mother for causing all of this. Now I feel bad. Mom never asked to be crazy.