my best life 07.10.17.1204P

media rants and “hallucinations…” when I spoke about
the likely presence of my mother after dropping the
pocket knife.
Finishing his notes, he put the pen back in his pocket
protector, leaned forward and asked me if I would like to
speak with the head psychiatrist.
I smiled and replied, “Yes… very much so.”
Smiling back, he informed me that the doctor’s office was
on the 7 th floor in a secured area of the hospital and would
require my signature to enter. He passed me a pen and
clipboard with a form attached.
I signed the document not realizing at the time it was a
voluntary commitment form.
“Wait right here Mr. Thompson while I arrange for an
escort to take you up.”
Sitting in the office I felt a sense of relief, the heavy weight
I had been carrying was lifting and I knew the psychiatrist
was going to help me get my life back on track.
Things were not as they appeared.
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