She couldn’t tell who handed her the pipe, she didn’t know what she was about to smoke, she only knew she felt afraid.

She was sitting in a park, it was daytime and cold, yet she was sweating. Someone was screaming; it was a girl, she was loud, it was her, she woke herself up.

Gloria was shaking and sweating; she had another using dream and couldn’t tell if it was real or not.

An aide heard her scream and poked her head in the window; she was used to the sight and sounds of detoxing, just part of her job, she routinely checked, making sure it was a nightmare and not someone acting out.

Sleep did not return easily, neither did the Trasadone, one dose at bedtime and that was it.

If it wore off too bad for you. She stood up; the bed was too uncomfortable, everything made her skin hurt. Even her hair hurt, she hadn’t brushed it in days. If she could just get well they would let her out, she needed to prove she was OK, pass a piss test and she would be back with her friends.

She didn’t remember blacking out or even how she got here. The first few days all she did was sleep. She had a vague memory of seeing her mother’s concerned face, but she couldn’t seem to hear what she was saying, drifting in and out of the fog.

To tell the truth, she didn’t even know where she was; a hospital of some kind, but no doctors or nurses.

She paced up to the wall back to the door. That was the other odd thing, the door was locked and the window had wire across it. The bed had a plastic mattress and one small blanket. No wonder she was sweating, it was plastic. Two more days they told her, hang in there for two more days and she would feel a lot better. How did they know how she would feel?

The only time she had direct contact with anyone was when the IV she was wearing emptied and that horrible noise started. She hated the noise, she hated the needle, she hated everything, “where am I” she would ask the attendant? “You are in a safe place” was the only answer she got. She wondered what she was safe from, why no one spoke to her, why when people looked at her she felt like a freak to be pitied.

Just one more night she kept thinking, one more night and I will be able to get out of this hell hole where she was disconnected; no phone, no television, nothing but these walls and then noticing for the first time in the twelve days she had been here, the walls were padded!

Gloria looked at the walls, looked down at her IV and felt a strong wave of paranoia.

With increasing fear she started pulling at the IV, grabbing the tape that held it, ripping what she was told was saline or something to help with her detox. She grabbed at the needle, mixing blood with her fear and that damn machine began screaming it’s alarm “fuck them, fuck their sedatives” she yelled, knowing they were trying to break her. Now she knew the truth.

This time there were two aides, now she was ankle strapped to the cot. The IV was placed in a new spot where she couldn’t reach it. “Just hang in there baby” one of the aides said, “you’ll get through this”. “Fuck you she screamed”; the door slammed shut. Exhausted, she fell asleep.

Day Thirteen was uneventful other than the incident that earned her another strap. She had begun writhing trying to loosen the IV. Now one hand and one foot were holding her in place and two attendants were necessary for her toileting. She was shaking now, and humiliated, not even allowed to use a toilet in private. Where was she prison?

No visitors for the agitated Gloria, not even her mother. She was alone in hell with one more day to go.

The vomiting started around midnight. Considering her only food was coming through an IV it was more like heaves. The aides sat her up, changed her wet gown gave her some seven up and told her to take tiny sips. She gulped it after the first sip and it came out faster than it went in. Gloria was angry, she did not feel good and she had no idea where she was or who put her here. She had to be changed again, the shakes were back, she was cold now and the room was spinning. They gave her a warm blanket, strapped her in and closed the door.

The tears came around 3AM. She started sobbing so hard once again the aides came in to sit her up and let her blow her nose. She couldn’t stop shaking and crying, she didn’t even know what she was crying about, she felt like her world had come to an end. She felt broken. Once again, she fell into an exhausted sleep.

Day fourteen began early, too early for Gloria. The aide was smiling like she had a pretty good secret; Gloria wanted to knock the smile off her face. Instead, she listened to what the aide was saying. Something about a worker and how lucky she was to be alive. Into a warm shower, shampoo and a top and bottom to wear along with some paper slippers, actually, everything she was wearing was made of paper. Where the hell was she?

The walk from the small room was down a long narrow hall. An aide in front and an aide in back there was no room for Gloria to break free and run. She could feel the cold from the cement floor through her paper soles. That was all she felt, well that and her body shivering so hard she looked like she was convulsing or doing a strange dance. Once in awhile, she would feel a warm palm on her back to steady her. It felt like she had been walking forever when they came to a door. It was like the door to her room with the wire window. She wondered if they had walked in a circle, but no, this door had no handle on the outside. The aide rang a bell; Gloria grabbed her ears and almost fell over from the sound. She had a vague feeling she was dreaming again.

Inside the room were a desk and two chairs one occupied by a woman. There was nothing else to see, just this woman.

 “Have a seat Gloria, this is Ms Whitman, she is gonna help you, you are a lucky girl.”

 There was that voice again saying how lucky she was.

 “Where the hell am I?”

 Gloria twisted her head around, got dizzy and sat.  

Ms Whitman asked her if she knew her name, Gloria rolled her eyes,

 “Of course I know my name.”

“what is it?”

“Gloria, Gloria Saunders”.

“That’s right”

Again, Gloria rolled her eyes, like she didn’t know her own name. Jeez.

 “Do you know why you are here Gloria?”

“Well, if I knew why I was here, I would know where here was, don’t ya think?”

 Ms Whitman told Gloria she was at a County run prison hospital, and where she went next was to be decided. She asked Gloria if she had any memory before she went into a coma.

Gloria looked at her with her mouth hanging open. The only time she had heard the word coma before was in reference to her Grandpa before he died.

 “Why was I in a coma?”

“We were hoping you could tell us”.

All Gloria could remember was sitting in the park, but that was a dream wasn’t it? She wasn’t sure of anything except she knew she was alone, really alone.

“I don’t understand why you think I was in a coma, I thought I was asleep.”

“If you were sleeping, you didn’t wake up for six days. Gloria, were you trying to kill yourself?”

“Well, I don’t think I would mind being dead, but it wasn’t my goal when the night began, I just want to cop a bag and go home.”

 Then, she remembered, she had no home, she remembered the screaming fight with the landlord, the padlock on her door, and going to the park

 “I don’t know where I was going after I got loaded”

 Gloria realized she was saying the wrong things to the wrong people.

The woman clasped her hands together. Gloria noticed a bracelet with keys on her wrist. She figured she better shut up or she could get in trouble.  

“We believed you had tried to commit suicide and your overdose was not accidental. Are you sure you were not trying to kill yourself Gloria?”

She wasn’t sure, but she knew she had to say the right thing and she did not know what that was.

 “Did I see my mother?”

“Yes, your mother was allowed to come identify you”.

“Where is she now? Does she know I’m OK?”

“Your mother was notified of your progress and made it clear she wanted nothing to do with you.”

The tears rolling down her face were hot, she started shivering again. Ms Whitman pushed a buzzer, the aides came in.

“Take her to the ward, let’s get her another checkup, get her well, then we will see what is next.”

Her new bed was in a very different kind of area. There were six women in varying states of pain and disease. No one was strapped down, there were sheets and blankets and those crazy gowns with no back side. Gloria insisted on keeping her paper pants on. She was in a bed in a room with a much larger window, still all kinds of screens and bars, but light was coming through. The nurse’s aide gave her a heated blanket after she was given the temperature, blood pressure, number. They said someone from the lab would be right up and then she could have a little food.  Everybody was either asleep, seriously groggy, or minding their own business. Gloria felt safe enough to doze. It seemed like she had just fallen into a deep sleep only to be awakened by someone with a cart full of rattling tubes.

Her yelling began as soon as the strap was put on her arm; it became a scream when the tech after many attempts finally found her thin over used vein. She had awakened almost all the sleepers who were yelling at her to shut the fuck up. She did what they said. And once again fell asleep.

Time is non existent in a state of shock. Gloria knew it was later though when she was told to wake up. There were cruel bright lights in the room and it was dark outside the window.

She shielded her eyes with her dry peeling hands, until they were gently pulled away by a woman who introduced herself as Dr. some name she couldn’t pronounce if her life depended on it.

Dr lady, as Gloria thought of her, invited her to sit up so she could listen to her chest; damn that thing was so cold, it felt like it could burn her sensitive skin. She started to yell but remembered who was in the other beds and what they were capable of doing to her if she pissed them off.

 The little rubber hammer worked its way from elbows to knees, damn that hurt. Next she was asked to follow the lady’s finger; she had to be kidding right? Everything was easy so far except she kept loosing the damn finger; it looked like two then would go blank. The doctor concluded her exam and told her she had a serious lung infection that would be treated by intravenous tube until she was well enough to swallow the large tablets, maybe a day or two. She was going to be eating liquid but the nurse would tell her the rest. Dr. lady said she understood Gloria could be uncooperative. She advised her she could be transferred back to her last unit, or behave herself. She had a choice. She told her how she was lucky to be alive, to which Gloria mumbled something like glad you think so.

The tube the Doctor had mentioned was another IV. Gloria knew what it was going to be like and steeled herself for the punishing sticking she was about to undergo. Much to her amazement, the nurse announced all done faster than she could think. Gloria asked why it didn’t hurt. The nurse said something about a stent they had used in her last room so she didn’t have to be tortured anymore; the nurse after reading her chart thought neither do we.

Sleep came quickly and once again she was awakened with what she guessed was food. The only thing she recognized was jello. She swallowed that and again was asleep. The next time she woke up she was vomiting. Her stomach felt like she was dying and she was a mess. The aide helped her wash up and change clothes, sheets, blanket pillowcase and as soon as the aide left, Gloria was throwing up; nothing came out, just hard dry heaves, leaving her limp and exhausted. Dr. Lady came in and said if she didn’t eat, they were going to put a feeding tube in her and that would go through her neck. She suggested Gloria eat whatever was put in front of her, explaining the medicine was causing the upset because she had no food to counter it. Gloria was given another tray. She ate salty broth, some brown mushy stuff that hurt to swallow and ice cream! She didn’t even mind it was vanilla; it was cold and felt so good in her throat she was feeling a spark, a tiny spark of happy for the first time in what felt like years. The aide saw how much she enjoyed it and made like it was a big secret when she slipped her another one.

Days passed into weeks, Gloria was healthier then she had been in a long time. She was smart, funny and ready to go home. There was just one problem, there was no home to go to, no relatives to call, only the park and the people who gathered to do business. Clearly they didn’t care about her, leaving her for dead. Had it not been for the stranger walking their dog in the early morning, they would have been correct. Yes, Gloria was a lucky girl; but now what?

The social worker said the county was no longer responsible for her, unless she agreed to go into treatment for her drug addiction. Then they could put her into a program where she might learn how to take care of herself. She had the night to think over her options, the park or a program, what would it be.

Gloria wanted out, she chose the park. She knew her way around and would manage to keep herself off drugs on her own.

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