CHAPTER 76

2025-08-12

In the psychiatric ward, there's a bare room with a steel door. It's diagonally across from my room.

The psychiatric ward I live in isn't connected to the hospital building. It is a separate building of old style. The entire floor has about twenty rooms, each accommodating only one person, and the patients are both men and women.

I've said that receiving treatment in a psychiatric hospital is more like being in prison. Because the psychiatric ward has tightened security measures and procedures, encountering security personnel is a frequent occurrence.

Entry and exit of the psychiatric ward is only possible via the elevator, which is accessed and exited using an access card. New patients are temporarily prohibited from entering and exiting the elevator and must be escorted by staff. Patients are given additional freedoms based on their performance, including the ability to ride the elevator, go outside for a 15-minute breath of fresh air, or smoke. These privileges must be granted on a case-by-case basis. I initially thought I had to participate in some kind of activity or test to earn points. Later I realized that points were added automatically.

There was also a room with a steel door on the same floor, diagonally across from my room. There was a small window above the door, but it was difficult to see what was inside. One time, while walking in the corridor, I happened to see the door slightly ajar and glimpsed a deserted room. It was used to temporarily separate violent patients.

For three or four nights, patients, all men, were imprisoned in this room. The first incident occurred early in my hospitalization and was a memorable one. The imprisonment often occurred because of arguments with staff, emotional outbursts, and subsequent disobedience, requiring security to be called. I didn't personally witness the patients being imprisoned. It is because, in such situations, staff would instruct patients to remain in their wards for their own safety. The imprisoned individuals protested, yelled, banged on, and kicked the steel door and walls, varying in intensity.

About a week after I was admitted, I had stabilized. A male patient arrived. After dinner, he chatted with my wife and me in the TV room. We both thought he was a bit overly enthusiastic and talkative. When fellow patients went to bed, I overheard him arguing with a staff member. After being locked up, he was incredibly aggressive, like a bear, constantly charging and yelling. It was a serious situation, and I couldn't sleep. Before dawn, I heard help arrive—probably the security team—and they soon quieted down.

Does being locked up mean the patient is seriously ill? Looking back, I don't think so. The long-haired young man who was initially locked up when I was admitted was polite and cheerful. After leaving the steel-doored cell, he remained there for about two weeks, and was very happy when he was discharged, even saying goodbye to his fellow inmates.

My perception of the hospital and life there was undoubtedly influenced by my mental state at the time, my medications, and my cognitive and cognitive abilities. Initially, I was self-centered, anxious, and overly concerned about my safety and reputation, but I regained my ability to discern truth and falsehood, gradually closing the gap with reality. From the second week, I can start receiving counseling.