CHAPTER 85

2026-08-16

In Chapter 77, “The Upgraded Psychiatric Ward,” I briefly introduced the new psychiatric building. Although it opened in July 2020 and I was curious to compare the new building with the old one, I had never actually visited it.

I had never actually visited the Upgraded Psychiatric Ward and Building, which I briefly introduced. For one thing, I wanted to return only after I had genuinely recovered and could see tangible results. For another, there was simply no practical need. During my recovery, hospitalization was no longer necessary. After three weeks in hospital, my major depression was followed up by an outpatient clinic in my residential area, just a ten-minute walk from home. I saw a specialist three times before being transferred back to my family doctor for follow-up. A few months later, I also took part in a rehabilitation course and group sharing sessions, which were quite helpful in teaching me to distinguish anxiety from genuine threats.

Two years later, I assessed myself and looked back on the period during which I accompanied my wife and went through an employment dispute in which her employer used the COVID-19 pandemic as an excuse for an unjustified dismissal. My depression had not returned, and I had recovered to about 95 percent of my pre-illness physical and mental condition. I had something to show for my recovery.

However, the timing coincided with the outbreak of COVID-19. Borders around the world were closed, and high-risk places were best avoided. I did not dare take the risk. By the time the global pandemic was under control, several years had already passed.

Last year, in 2025, I finally made a special trip there. I found the new building for Mental Health and Addiction Treatment, which had been newly established five years earlier. Naturally, it was completely transformed, with not the slightest trace of the old building remaining. Even after reading the guide, I was still completely confused. It seemed that the former administrative structure had been replaced by a new one. I could only give up and leave, with no opportunity to express my thanks.

This time, because I had to accompany Lun, I unexpectedly returned to the psychiatric ward—and even stayed there. Last Tuesday morning, the female nurse on duty caring for him looked somewhat familiar.

Not long after I was admitted back then, there was a plump, dyed-hair female nurse who told me more than once, “Mr. Chan, don’t believe your brain. It is deceiving you.” She took great care of me during my stay, and I thanked her in person.

On one occasion at that time, I met the female deputy manager of Lun’s group-home organization inside the old building. She had come to the hospital for a meeting to discuss another resident’s treatment. When we met, she told me that because I had been absent and had not visited Lun as usual, he had become anxious. My heart sank when I heard this, and I felt guilty. After returning to the ward, I burst into tears.

The nurses saw what had happened and, after learning the reason, immediately comforted me. I have never forgotten their kindness.

As I was leaving the ward and heading toward the elevator, two security gates had to be opened and closed by staff for security reasons. Coincidentally, that nurse was the one assigned to do it. I specifically asked her whether she had already been working in this psychiatric ward in 2019. She said yes.

I then repeated those brief but important words she had spoken to me back then. She said that she was indeed the kind of person who would say such things. I then briefly told her about my hospitalization and illness at the time, and said that I had not suffered a relapse in seven years. Now that we had met again, I felt I had to thank her personally.

She was deeply pleased to hear that a former patient could remember the care he had received and had recovered. “You made my day,” she said. She also understood that the pressure of raising a child with autism could contribute to depression; it was hardly surprising that I had become depressed under such circumstances.

This little reunion brought me great joy. Besides fulfilling a long-held wish, it gave me the opportunity to let someone who had provided care witness a rebirth - and to let her know that her contribution had made a difference.

Seven years later, the same nurse, now in the new building, is caring for my son. I, too, hope that my son will be given the opportunity for a new beginning.