Hot Dog Spaghetti

HOT DOG SPAGHETTI

A Short Story By Kathy Hayes

A Fictional Story, But A Subject Close To My Heart

I look around and I hear myself say, “This room is unfamiliar and I don’t know how I got here.”

I am standing at the back door of a kitchen, holding two bags of groceries and trying to remember what I am doing here and wondering where I am.

Just then, a little girl, maybe six years old, runs into the room.

“Mommy, I want hot dog spaghetti for dinner.  Please, mommy.”

A young man, maybe fourteen, comes into the room.  “Oh, Bunny, that is so gross, so, so gross.”

“Allister, you don’t know anything.  Hot dog spaghetti is the best!”

Just then, a tall man enters the kitchen.  “Peaches, where have you been?  I have called everywhere looking for you, and your office said you left work hours ago.”

I look down into my arms and say, “The grocery. We needed some things.”

“Here, let me take those and I will help you put them away,”.  The man takes the bags of groceries and carries them to an island in the middle of the large kitchen.  He starts taking the items out of the bag, looking at the items strangely.

“Peaches, are you starting a new diet?”

I look at the items he has removed from the bag. Tofu, seaweed sprouts, some sushi rolls, wheat germ and other items, obviously from a health food store.

“No, I just thought I would try something different.”

The boy moves to the island and looks at the grocery items with disgust.  “Mom, I have soccer practice at six and I need some protein.  I hope we are not having this for dinner.”

I look at the young man, I think the little girl called him Allister, and say, “Tofu is full of protein.”

“When I say protein, I mean meat.  Please don’t turn us into health food nuts.  We are not vegetarian.  Dad, do something,”.

“Call Romero’s and order yourself a meat plus pizza and get your sister a cheese pizza.”

“But Daddy, I..” Bunny stomped her foot.

“Don’t worry, Bunny, I will top it with hot dogs when it gets here,”.

The man turned to me and said, “Peaches, come upstairs for a moment.  Allister, please put up the groceries and I will be right back.”

I feel dazed and confused, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.  The man takes my hand and leads me up the stairs and into a bedroom.

“We need to talk about this.  Are you taking your meds?”

I look at the man and see the concern in his eyes, so I say, “Yes, of course.  Why do you ask?”

We walk into the bedroom and there are clothes strewn all over every surface.  On the bed, I see a pair of scissors.  All the clothing in the room has been destroyed.  The pictures on the walls are askew, many pictures and artwork on the floor, lipstick on the mirror read, I am not me.

“I didn’t do this.  Why would you think I did this?”

I still did not know the name of this man. He was looking at me questioningly.  “Come on Peaches. Let’s get you in bed.  I am going to call Dr. Allen.  I checked the pill bottles. You have not taken your meds in six days.”

“You check my pill bottles?  You are violating my privacy and who are you?  Why am I here?  I do not know you and I want to go home.  You can’t keep me here against my will.  I am afraid and I want to go home.”

“Peaches, you are home.  We all love you and we will get through this. And by the way, I am your husband, Scott.”

Suddenly, I am so tired and I allow this man to lead me to the bed.  He clears the bed, taking the scissors and flinging the clothing onto the floor.  He pulls out a cell phone and dials.

“Dr. Allen, this is Scott Cantrell.  Well, no, things are not fine.  Is it possible for you to come over here? Peaches is having an episode.  No, she doesn’t know any of us.  Yes.  Yes.  Yes, I am getting her into bed now.  Yes, I checked.  She has not been taking them.  Okay, thank you doctor.”

Scott turns to me and says, “He will be here as soon as he can and until then, I want you in this bed, resting.”

“Peaches, schizophrenia is a serious illness, and it requires daily medication.  You know this.  Now, I am not scolding, but we have to keep you healthy.  You know what happened last time.”

I look at this man, who claims to be my husband, and say, “I have no idea what you are talking about.  I am fine, and I want to go home.”

Scott appears to make a decision.  “Just wait for the doctor, and if he says you can, you can go home.”

Well finally.  But I am not sure where home is.  I do not recognize this house or these people.  How did I get here?  I try to remember where my home is and where I belong, but my mind is a blank. I feel frightened and I don’t know why.  I feel impending doom and I just want to go home.  Oh God, who am I?  My name can’t really be Peaches, can it?  What a ridiculous name.  I suddenly feel exhausted and totally drained.  I allow Scott to ease me into the bed and pull the coverlet over me.  He sits down on the bed and holds my hand.

“Peaches, I love you so much.  Please come back to me.  We all need you.”

I close my eyes, but sleep does not come.  My mind is racing.  What is happening to me and where to I belong?

I hear Scott leave the room and I hear him talking in the hall.  “Allister, watch for the pizza.  Here is some money.  Call Ryan and see if his mom can give you a lift to soccer practice.”

I hear the little girl crying.  “Daddy, what is wrong with mommy?  Why is she being weird?”

“It is fine Bunny, I am calling grandma to come over and look after you.  She will cut up hot dogs for your pizza.”

Then I hear Scott talking on the phone.  “Marilyn, we need you over here.  She is having another episode, and it seems pretty serious.  Yes, I checked the pills.  She has not taken them for days.  I know, I know.  I just never thought about her stopping the medication.  I know Marilyn.  Marilyn, she doesn’t know any of us.  Yes, that is what I said.  No, not even Bunny.  Okay, come as quick as you can.  Bunny is becoming very upset. She knows something is not right.  Okay, yes.”

I hear Scott open the door and come into the room.  I feign sleep, but he does not buy it.  “Peaches, your mother is on the way.  Dr. Allen is on the way and the children are taken care of.  Don’t worry about anything.  We have everything under control.”

Control.  That word hits a nerve.  Control.  I need that word.  I need control, but I don’t know how to get it.  My mother was on the way, but I don’t remember my mother.  I don’t have a clue what she looks like.  I try to search my mind for my memories, for anything that is familiar to me.  I feel like I was born this very minute, a full grown woman with my mind a clean slate, no memories, no nothing.  I drift to sleep.

I wake sometime later when I feel someone sit on the bed.  I open my eyes and I see a man, not Scott, a kindly-looking man with salt and pepper hair and glasses.

“Ah, you are awake.  Do you know who I am?”.

I shake my head back and forth.  “No, no I don’t,”.

“I am Dr. Allen, your doctor.  I have been treating you for sixteen years.”

“What kind of doctor are you?”.

“Peaches, I am your psychiatrist.  I specialize in schizophrenia.  Do you know about schizophrenia?”.

I search my mind and find that I do have memories of knowledge.  “Yes, yes, I know about schizophrenia, but I do not know what that has to do with me.

“Peaches, we have to get you to the hospital and get you started back on your meds.  You stopped taking your meds and that created chaos in your mind.  When your mind could no longer take the chaos, you had a psychotic break.”

I know this is not true. “No, no, no.  I am not schizophrenic, I am not ill and I do not need pills.  I do not know you, I do not know this house, I do not know these people,”.  I can hear my voice spiraling out of control.

“I will not stand for this and I demand to leave.  I don’t know what kind of sick conspiracy this is, but I am leaving now!”.  

I hear screams coming from somewhere.  A woman walks into the room and rushes to the bed.

“Oh, Peaches, mom is here, mom is here.  You are going to be alright,”.

“I don’t know you. You are not my mother.  YOU ARE NOT MY MOTHER!  This is not my house.  I am leaving now.”

Scott comes into the room and he and the woman who is claiming she is my mother hold me down. The man claiming to be a doctor puts a needle in my arm.  I feel myself slipping from consciousness.  I lay back on the bed and let wave after wave of sleep envelop me.  “No, no, no, please….. please,”.

When I wake up, I am in an all white hospital room.  I have an IV and there is a nurse standing beside my bed.

“Well, welcome back.  That was quite a nap you had there,”.

“How long have I been out?”

“Thirty-six hours, dear.  You needed the rest.  You will be fine now.”

“Where am I?”

“The Allen Institute Recovery And Research Center For Psychological Disorders.”

I think about this for a moment, searching my mind for memories.

“Have I been here before?” I ask.

“Peaches, I have been told to be honest with you.  Dr. Allen thinks it is in your best interest.  Peaches, you work here, you come here every day and you are my best friend.”

I take this in for a moment.  “What do I do here?”.

“Peaches, you are a therapist,”.

“What kind of therapist?  I mean, what do I treat?”

“You specialize in schizophrenia recovery.”

“I see.” I look at her name tag, and say her name “Rachel”.

“Peaches, you should start to feel better soon. We have restarted your meds and you will be back to yourself in no time.  Any memories yet?”

I shake my head back and forth and allow myself to drift back into blissful, unthinking sleep.

The next time I wake up, I am told I have been in the hospital for three days.  Dr. Allen comes into the room, and miraculously, I recognize him.

“Bill, what happened?”

“Peaches, you went off your meds.  For a week.”

I feel chastised and embarrassed that I did this.  “Bill, they make me feel so sluggish sometimes.  I really thought I could handle myself without meds.”

“With your training, you know that is not possible.  You have a real disorder, as you know, and it requires meds.  Just like a diabetic needs insulin.  You are a wonderful therapist, but you cannot provide therapy for yourself.  Your family needs you to be healthy.  You made it through two pregnancies and if you don’t remember, you will remember how difficult that was and how Scott stood by your side all the way.  There is no shame in therapy and medication.  As a therapist, you know that.”

“I want to see my children.  I need them to know I love them.”

“Peaches, they know, and in a couple of days, you will be able to reunite with them.  In the meantime, Scott and your mother have everything under control.”

I remembered my concern about the word control just a few days earlier.  “Control,” I said.  “Something I want so desperately. I want control over my life and I thought I could do it without drugs.  But, I know now, now that I am thinking, that medication is the only way for me to have control.”

“Don’t beat yourself up.  You know from your training that we all seek control over our lives.  It is key to our self preservation.”

Days passed, and I took my medication without causing difficulty and as the days passed, I started to remember my life, my husband and my children.  And I wanted that life back.  I felt awkward the first time Scott came to see me, but he assured me that all was fine and he was holding the fort, along with the help of my mother.

I realized how fortunate I was to have such a support system, and I vowed to never put them through this again.

After I had been in the hospital for ten days, Scott came to visit with Dr. Allen.  I looked at them both and said, “I really need to get out of here so I can fix Bunny some hot dog spaghetti.”  They both laughed and Dr. Allen said, “I think she is ready to go home.  But Peaches, you need to take a few months off for yourself and your family.  Your job will be here when you are ready to return.  We have split your patients between Sandy and Evelyn.  Your patients will be taken care of.  But, the best way to take care of them is to get yourself well.  Self caring is key to your recovery.”

Three days later, I went home and Bunny rushed into my arms.  Allister, always the teenager, was standoffish, but was so glad to see me.  He said, “Mom, I am not eating the hot dog spaghetti.  Just too gross.”

“Of course you can’t eat that. I am going to fix you a grilled steak and baked potato.  You need all the protein you can get, young man.”

PostScript

There is a mental health crisis in this country and the stigma of treatment must be conquered.  Psychological disorders such as depression, anxiety, bi-polar, bi-polar II, OCD, ADHD and schizophrenia are disorders that require therapy and, in some cases, medications.  There are so many medications out there now to ease the symptoms of psychological issues.  Sometimes it takes experimentation to find the best medication.  It is time consuming and sometimes exhausting to explore all the possibilities, but in the end, a successful result is priceless - for the individual and for their family and friends.  Don’t be afraid to ask for help - help is out there for everyone who needs it.