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In any case, being bound hand and foot, alone in a dark room would probably make anyone feel helpless and afraid, and I was. I have never been comfortable sleeping on my back and was now forced to, and got little sleep as a result. My waking hours filled with feelings of despair and fear, and I felt like I would never be free. Why my family members didn't insist that the restraints be removed, they later told me they had given up asking after being refused so many times and were doing their best to have me moved to another facility.

As much as my thought process was compromised by the drugs, I knew something was seriously wrong. One day when my hands were free and I was briefly alone in the room, I managed to remove one of the restraints. Here is what they looked like:



I managed to break one of the strips of fabric on the one holding my left wrist and removed the entire assembly and hid it under the covers. Obviously its absence was noted when it was time to tie me again, and the nurse looked for it, lifting the edges of the sheets when it wasn't found but didn't look far. I did my best barely conscious and disoriented act, but whether they were fooled or decided to look for it later when I was completely out of it I don't know. I was able to give it to a visitor before that could happen.

At this point I should comment on the staff. I was only hospitalized once before, and for a relatively minor illness. It was Hospital A, and seemed to be reasonably well operated. The food was decent, the staff at least didn't abuse me. I noticed that their uniforms were rather haphazard and didn't look too clean, but their behavior was definitely bottom of the barrel, with one exception. This young lady was always courteous and gentle and didn't join in the others in making fun of me. They would talk in the hall outside my room, not caring or perhaps intending that I should hear them. They laughed about my escapes and referred to me as 'Houdini'.

During this time I was visited twice by representatives of other care facilities, and they did actually come to my room and observe me. They didn't speak to me, but to the other personnel, whoever they were. Later I learned (from the hospital records) that I was rejected due to their 'inability to deal with my behavioral problems'. In the end it turned out to be a good thing, as my family members realized that I was going to be dead or beyond any hope of recovery in a short time if they didn't do something and told the doctor they were taking me home and they wanted me prepared to leave.

They listened to the dire warnings about my condition and signed the papers, and almost two months they attempted to make me ambulatory again. Literally, because when the physical therapist arrived (the first time I saw him) with an assistant and got me out of bed. Standing, with them holding me up, was possible for only a few seconds before my legs gave way. They put me back in bed.

On the third day I was able to stand for a few minutes and took a couple of steps without support, but that was about it. It would be another week before I could use a walker to stand and walk a short distance. Apparently I recuperate quickly (my later experience indicates that I do) and I actually walked, if you can call it that, out into the hall and a short distance. Enough to pass several rooms, and I looked into the rooms as I passed. In several I saw old people lying in the beds, if they were awake they would have been looking at the ceiling. I had lain that way for weeks, and if there had been no one to save me I probably would be dead or a vegetable.

By the time they I was released I was able to walk to the elevator with someone holding the walker to keep me from falling, and from the elevator to a waiting car. Once in the car I collapsed in the seat, unable to move. I recovered sufficiently on the hour-long drive to what would be my home for the next several months that they were able to get me out of the car and into the house to a guest room. I don't remember what we talked about on the drive or if I was even awake. My only thoughts were that I was alive and free.

I don't remember much about the next few days, most of it I probably spent sleeping. My hosts checked on me occasionally and asked if I neeed anything, brought me meals. The hospital had sent prescriptions for about a dozen drugs which they insisted were necessary, so my caregivers had the prescriptions filled and gave me the recommended dosages daily, checking my condition (blood sugar, blood pressure, etc.) to determine whether they were needed. Within a month I had discontinued use of all except one - the blood pressure medication I had been taking for years.



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