Wake-Up Call. Joaquin De Torres
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to the lobbies teaming with plants and beaming with natural light-all, decorated and designed with a confluence of elegance and ethereal calm. The three of us strolled about taking in the various wings of the building as if we were prospective homebuyers. I stopped to look out of one of the several massive bay view windows. “The outer grounds and landscaping are gorgeous, too.”
Zelda was also amazed as her eyes glided across the panoramic view of the towns and cityscapes of the East Bay in the distance.
“That forest accentuates the view. Just look at the hills and trees of that massive park down there,” she admired. “It’s beautiful.”
“Briones Regional Park,” Ivana mentioned. “We are very fortunate to have such a large, protected natural preserve so close to us. We take our mobile patients on walks down there.”
I looked at her as we walked, honestly happy she ended up here and not at Napa.
“Congratulations, Ivana. You deserve this place with all the work you’ve done in our field. Orinda State is the kind of mental institution that should be a model for all others.”
“Well, hopefully this is the new trend. It took a lot of campaigning to have the clinical patients separated from the criminal patients in different buildings.”
“That’s such a huge victory,” I exclaimed emphatically. I turned to Zelda. “Orinda is the first California state institution with separate facilities. This keeps the clinical patients-our patients-safe from physical abuse, gangs and abject violence that is normally associated with patients sent to the institution by the criminal justice system.”
“I can imagine,” Zelda responded thoughtfully. “A mass murderer gets a great lawyer and a sympathetic jury; pleads innocent by reason of insanity, and then he’s mingling with people like Doogie.” She shook her head. “It’s frightening.”
“And that’s exactly why this facility was built, to be the new standard in mental care,” Ivana added. “Those who need care, get care. Those who need isolation from the public, get isolated.” We passed several security guards as we turned into another wide corridor which splintered off to other smaller hallways.
“It also allows researchers like Javier and myself to work with patients without worrying about their physical safety.” Ivana nodded and smiled as nurses offered her polite greetings. “We won’t visit Ward 2. That’s not my jurisdiction, but the crime levels have dropped since I pushed for the security guards to carry firearms and electric weapons.”
“You are amazing!” I said, trying not to sound too obsequious. She smiled demurely again. Zelda caught this and rolled her big eyes with a grin.
“You two should be dating!”
We made another turn into an open octagonal reception area. Each side had hallways leading to other rooms. A reception desk with at least five female nurses and four male attendees all dressed in pleasingly colorful scrubs, greeted us with warm smiles. Zelda and I shook hands with them as we were introduced. We also met two security guards wearing electric weapons who were stationed near the desk. An exotic-looking woman wearing a lab coat, emerged from one of the doors down one hallway; spotted us and flashed a big smile on her face. I could tell immediately that she was a Pacific Islander, and was happy to see her coming out way. She came up to us in a gentle trot.
“Ivana!”
“Ellen!” The two women hugged tightly then turned to us.
“Everyone, this is Dr. Ellen Pentecostes, she’s head of both the Mental and Physical Therapy departments.” The woman was stunning; tanned skin, almond eyes and long flowing black hair.
“Ellen, these are Dr. Zelda Snow and Dr. Javier Flores.” We all shook hands. “And this is Doogie Tuckman.” Ellen came forward towards Doogie who dropped his head nervously.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Doogie!” The warmth and welcome in Pentecostes’ eyes were incredible. Like Ivana’s, they exuded patience and absolute joy at helping others. “I’m Ellen.”
“E-E-E-E EWW-WIN!”
She took him by the hand and we followed her down one of the larger, wider carpeted hallways. On either side we looked into large, spacious rooms with wide windows where we could see various recreational equipment within. One room had yoga mats, rubber balls, hula hoops and climbing apparatuses. Other rooms were lined with cushions and padding, pillowed furniture and sponge or Nerf toys. There were extra wide rooms for wheelchairs, walkers and rolling beds with tables full of various board games, books, building blocks, card decks, and other hands-on, manipulative devices. There was a TV room with several wall-imbedded screens; and a room that caught Zelda’s eye, a video game room with no less than ten PCs with huge flat screens connected to hand-held controllers. Several patients were there playing games and Zelda stopped momentarily to spy on each through the glass. I poked her playfully in her ribs.
“If you disappear from the tour, I’ll know where to find you!” She nodded her head as we laughed.
“This is our music room where we take patients for auditory therapy,” said Ellen. “This is the library where we not only let patients read, but we teach reading to those who can’t.” A little further down she pointed. “This is our Internet room. We have another ten PCs and laptops for patients to talk with family members via Skype, Facebook or write e-mails.”
“Incredible,” I heard myself say as I looked at Doogie, still holding hands with Ellen. I wondered if his family would even use this advantage to stay in contact with him if he were here. Each room was labeled with a plaque above each doorway: RECREATION ROOM; GAME ROOM; PING PONG/POOL ROOM; MUSIC ROOM; INTERNET ROOM; etc. We stopped in front of a room labeled ART & PUZZLE ROOM. Ellen stopped and turned around.
“This is where Doogie can be while we’re at my office,” Ivana said. We looked through the window. There were large tables and art easels scattered about. Large pads of art paper, boxes of pencils, pens, brushes, sponges, crayons, felt tip markers, oil paint tubes, and tubs of finger paints sat in deep trays on room-length shelves. There were even separate tables for clay sculpting and wood work. On the opposite side of the room was another shelf with countless boxes of puzzles of various piece counts, Rubik’s Cubes, and mixed lots of LEGO pieces that counted into the thousands.
“This is incredible!” commented Zelda. “So many materials. So patient-focused.”
“Will Doogie be supervised?” I asked.
“My office is around the corner,” answered Ellen. “And attendants and nurses walk up and down the halls on regular rounds, sticking their heads in to check in on them. We can have one of them stay with him if you like.”
“Actually, I’d like to see how he handles this environment on his own.”
“That’s fine, Dr. Flores.” Ellen opened the door by sliding her keycard down the electronic slot next to the door handle. The glass door hissed open. She led Doogie in and turned his shoulders so he could face in a particular direction.
“Doogie, this is your room today!” she said encouragingly. “If you need me, or you need some help, push this big red button.” She pointed to a thick, red plastic disk the size of a fist, protruding out from the wall. “Do you understand, Doogie?” He nodded. Ellen looked up to us. “I’ll show him around. You guys go ahead.”
“Thank you, Ellen,” said Ivana. “We’ll be back in about an hour. Call me if you need me.” We stepped back as Ellen closed the door, took Doogie by the hand again and walked him into the room. Ivana looked at Zelda and I, no longer smiling. Her face now registered concentrated concern.
“Are you ready for what I’m about to show you?”
“What do you mean when you say ready?” I asked. I looked at Zelda and saw that her large eyes, before full of gleam and light, now gazed upon me with caution.
“You will see, Javier,” she murmured. “You will see.”
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