Authors: Cindi Jones
“The doctor had to make a few phone calls.
He’ll be right in.”
A
fter the most uncomfortable wait in history to see a doctor, he brushed in and closed the door.
He deftly slipped into the plastic chair in front of me.
“I was
finally
able to
talk to
your therapist.
She had gone over to Mercy and she had to be paged.
She was very upset that your parents brought you here.
But I assured her that we would take care of you.”
I cursed sarcastically
,
“I’m sure you will.”
“So, you are transsexual?” he asked.
“No, I want to be a woman,” I answered.
“Do you feel like you are a woman trapped in a man’s body?” he queried.
“No,” I answered.
“I’ve always wanted to be a girl.
I was making it happen.
I gave up everything to make it happen.
But they beat me down.
I cut off all my hair and I’m sure that my job is history,” I replied.
“
Cindi, I’m Dr. Wynn.” And he extended his hand with a firm handshake.
“You are using my legal name Dr. Wynn.
Where did you get it?” I asked.
“As I mentioned, I had a discussion with your therapist and she briefly gave me your history over the phone,” he replied.
“Are you a Mormon?” I asked.
“No Cindi, I am not.
I had a fairly nice practice in the state of Washington.
But I decided to move here.
Do you know why I moved here Cindi?”
he asked.
“I have no idea,” I
said
.
“Business is very good here Cindi. The Mormon Church has such high standards and virtually no one can measure up.
It plays havoc with so many minds.
When people can’t conform to their own beliefs, it can create some serious mental problems,” he said.
“Cindi, do you want to kill yourself?” he asked.
“I’ve wanted to do it all day. But I did have the sense to call my therapist,” I answered. I quickly realized that it was Amy who had really saved me.
“So what is stopping you from moving forward with your life as a woman?” he asked.
“I cut off all my hair, my job is in the toilet, and my family relationships are totally destroyed,” I answered.
“Cindi, your hair will grow back.
You can get a new job.
And, we’ll work on your family while you are here.
This facility is here to help you.
If you like, we can keep your family and anyone else out and prevent them from calling you.
Would you like
that
?”
h
e asked.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“Yes!” I exclaimed.
“Cindi, is there anyone we can call to bring in your feminine things to wear? And do you have a wig?”
“I suppose my sister would bring my things over,” I replied.
“And yes, I do have a n
ice wig. I think that she can find my stuff.”
Dr. Wynn went on “So now Cindi, this has been my shortest session of the month.
We’ve only been talking for 5 minutes and I think that you are ready to get back on track.
I’d like you to prepare a list of things you need. Give us your sister’s phone number and we will call her. I know that you don’t want to commit suicide.
While you are here, we require you to participate in group therapy twice a day with the other patients.
Let’s get you out of this room and into something more comfortable.”
He opened the door and politely showed me the way out with his hand.
He talked with the nurse and within just a couple of
minutes;
I had a nice private room complete with television, sheets on the bed, and a real door on the bathroom.
It all happened so quickly.
I was absolutely stunned.
In a span of only 15 minutes, a caring physician lifted me from the depths of hell.
Within one hour, my sister Charlotte had been able to go to my storage locker, find the items I had listed and rush them in to the hospital.
The nurse brought in two large paper bags.
I closed the door and dumped one bag on the bed…. I panicked.
“The wig” was not there.
I hadn’t worn it for several months. “It has to be in the other bag” I soon realized.
I dumped the other bag onto the bed.
And out it tumbled.
My favorite hairpiece “the wig”.
I stared down at the bed.
It was covered with clothes, make up, and other personal effects.
I quickly got dressed in something more comfortable, a pair of jeans, a loose cotton blouse and some tennis shoes.
I put on my fabulous wig and some very light makeup.
I was feeling very good.
I stood and looked in the mirror.
“Well I’m a brunette again”. I said to myself.
The woman in the mirror comforted me.
She told me that I was going to do just fine.
I realized that the good doctor had given me a very short task list to get on with my life.
I also knew that I’d be staying in the loony bin for a few days and that was just fine.
“Well, Cindi” I told myself as I poofed up my hair.
“Let’s get out of this room and go for a stroll.
It might be good to meet the other patients here.”
I opened the door quietly, and peered out at the common area.
“This is could
turn out to be one of the best days of my life,” I said to myself trying to be upbeat.
And I stepped past the threshold.
The loony bin looked brighter and more inviting as I stepped out of my room.
The sun had pushed tentacles of light through the small attached dining room window.
I saw a couple of people mindlessly walking around the perimeter of the area.
I wondered what they would really be like after I got to know them. “What kind of struggle landed them here?” I asked myself. I focused my atte
ntion to the center area where a
couch an
d comfortable chairs defined a comfortable social space
.
A lovely young girl in her twenties painfully sat there as she fiddled with an empty Diet Coke can.
She was lifting the tab and pushing it back down.
Her face was focused on an invisible spot on the wall as she tried to look through it.
The bandage on her left fore
arm betrayed her.
It was easy to see why she was here.
“Why is it that someone who has it all can be so unhappy?” I thought to myself.
I sat down in the comfy chair next to the couch and curled my feet up under myself.
“My name is Cindi,” I announced.
She continued to stare at the wall.
“I’m Andrea,” she mumbled.
I looked at the wall where
she stared and then back to her
Diet Coke,
.
“I’d love to have one
of those
, where did you get it?” I
asked
.
“Oh, you can get them in the fridge in the dining area,” she responded, still staring at the wall.
She hadn’t even looked at me.
“I see that you have finished yours, can I get you another?”
I queried.
“Sure, I’d like that,” she responded as she looked at me finally.
I stood
and walked to the dining area and retrieved two Diet Cokes from the refrigerator.
I returned and settled again into the easy chair and passed her one of the cans.
“Here you go, Andrea.”
She offered a quiet “Thanks.”
She went on to say “You know, I was never allowed to drink Diet Coke at home.”
At that time, the Mormon Church discouraged any drink that included caffeine in its contents.
The thinking at the time was that coffee had caffeine and hot drinks were “not for the body” as dictated in its “word of wisdom” revelation. Therefore, caffeine in any drink was not wise.
I responded to Andrea’s statement. “You know Andrea; I was never allowed to have Diet Coke at home either.
I always had to sneak it at work.”
Her countenance changed slightly to the positive as she stared into my eyes and smiled.
We had finally connected.
For the next half hour or so, we talked of all things excepting the reasons as to why we were there.
We talked about favorite stores and music and what not.
She warmed up to me and her mood had flipped 180 degrees.
“You know, I’ve been here three days and no one has said a word to me outside of group,” she offered.
“Really?” I queried.
“No kidding,” she responded.
“Wow, this place must really be stuffy,” I said.
“That’s an understatement,” she returned.
Apparently there were 6 people there before I arrived and no one talked to anyone else.
“Well, if there is one thing I am going to do while I’m here, I am going to get to know people.
I can’t imagine spending several days here and not talk to the other inmates,”
I said.
“Inmates?” she
asked
as her eyes brightened. “I’d never thought of it in those terms.
That is absolutely hilarious,” she said.
We both giggled about it for a bit.
Laughter in the loony bin was unusual and everyone else stared at us.
The nurse turned in her chair, watched us for a bit, turned back to her desk and wrote something down.
“So, we are being watched too?” I asked.
“Yea, they watch everything we do here,” she said.
“Big brother is watching us,” I said.
“Huh?” she asked.
“Oh it is a reference to the novel 1984 by George Orwell where the government watches everything that everyone does,”
I briefly explained.
“I’ve never read it,” she said as a sparkle formed in her eyes. “But you know Cindi, that nurse kinda does look like she could be “big brother” doesn’t she?”
A sense of irony shot through my being and I wryly grinned at her.
And then we burst into laughter.
Big brother turned in her chair watched us for a moment and then turned back to her notebook and wrote something down.
Another inmate poked her head out from her cave to see what was going on.
Her look was puzzled as she stepped out into the common area.
She paused for a moment and then walked over and sat in another easy chair.
“Okay she said, I’ve been here 4 days and no one has said anything to anybody else.
What’s going on here,” she demanded.
“Oh we are just talking about big brother over there,” I answered.
She quickly glanced at the nurse and then absolutely hooted as she laughed.
Her laugh was infectious and carried throughout the loony bin.
Big brother turned in her chair watched us for a moment and then turned back to her notebook and wrote something down.
It wasn’t long before two other women joined us and we talked for the rest of the afternoon until supper time.
The dreariness we all shared was replaced with rapid discussion and righteous laughter.
Big brother turned in her chair watched us for a moment and then turned back to her notebook and wrote something down.
Supper came in on carts from the kitchen.
Everyone broke up and headed to their rooms.
“Hey, where’s everyone going?” I asked.
“To their rooms for supper,” Andrea answered.
Not thinking
, I shouted out “H
ey everyone, let’s eat together.
”
Andrea chimed in “sure, why don’t we eat together?”
So the four of us collected our suppers and sat down at the table next to the fridge.
The meal took a whole hour to consume.
We had a wonderful time chatting, laughing, talking, laughing, sharing secrets, and laughing some more.
Several times throughout the hour, big brother turned in her chair watched us for a moment and then turned back to her notebook and wrote something down.
“Doesn’t that get to you after a while?”
I asked everyone.
“It sure does,” answered another.
That’s why we spend all of the time in our rooms,”
She continued.
“Well, that has to stop,” I said.
“I’m not going to let that determine how I act here,” I continued.
“You know Cindi, you are right.
I haven’t felt so happy in a long time.
I refuse to let big brother bother me any more,” she exclaimed.
We all agreed that we would try to ignore the government spy.