Handcuffed

I remember being handcuffed.  I wasn’t scared.  I hadn’t done anything wrong.  I knew the handcuffs would come off eventually.

Apparently, the police had been told I had a gun.  Because I was suicidal, I called the 24 hour night nurse from a pay phone on the side of the grocery store.  My cell phone was tucked in front of my trousers.  It could have looked like a gun.  

My Granny had died earlier in the year.  In moments, I didn’t want to go on nor did I want to leave the planet—not entirely.

The nurse wasn’t subtle.  Periodically, I could hear her whisper to someone, “What’s taking them so long?”  “I’m gonna lose her.”  I was getting tired but I hung on.

Standing at the pay phone, I was vaguely aware of police cars pulling in around me.  I didn’t react.  I wanted them to announce their presence first.  A loud voice told me to drop the phone.  I  dropped it and then reached for it again because I hadn’t said goodbye to the nurse.  “Drop the phone,” the booming voice instructed.  Okay, done.  The voice told me to kneel down and put my hands behind my head.

Kneeling was a difficult chore.  I had trouble balancing.  An officer took my left hand, cuffed it, and brought my right hand down to meet it.  

A white officer taller than me shined a pen light in my eyes saying, “Yep, there are drugs on board.”  I thought, all I have is my night meds, fool.  He seemed pleased with himself.

I was placed in the back of a patrol car.  The car door was left open.  A red haired officer with a mustache planted himself in front of me.  He was in charge.  I knew we were going to have a little talk.

“Do you have a gun?” 

“No.”

“It was reported you have a gun.”

“I never said that.  I don’t have a gun.”

“Well, half the Olympia police are here, because it was reported you have a gun.”

“Well, I’m sorry you’re upset, but I don’t have a gun.”

He was direct.  “I’m not upset.  I just want you to know that we take this very seriously.”  He looked upset to me.  If he wasn’t upset, I thought, maybe I was upset.  I knew somebody was upset.  He asked a new question.  “Is this your car?”

“Yes.”

“Can we search it?”

“Will you take anything out of it?”

“No, we’re just looking for a gun.”

“Okay, if you don’t take anything out, you can search it.”

“All right, I want you to sit right here and watch our search.  If at any time you want us to stop, just tell us.  Do you understand?”

“Yes. I have a prescription in the console.  I don’t want you to take it.”

“Is it your prescription?”

“Yes.”

“We won’t take it.”  They began to search.  I’m a white female.  I wasn’t afraid because I had no gun.  Which is exactly what they found when they completed the search a few minutes later.  I had no gun.  There are things I’m uncertain about but I know I never have a gun.  

“Now, we know you are upset.  We think you need to go to the hospital.  Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You can go to the hospital voluntarily which is the easiest or we can call the mental health professional to determine if you need to go to the hospital.  That would be a mandatory three day hospitalization.  Will you go to the hospital voluntarily?”

“Yes. I can do that.”

“Okay, we’ll have the medics check you out.”

The medic pulled up my shirt sleeve to check my blood pressure.  She found it alarmingly low.  There were two of them, a male and a female.  Neither could get a decent blood pressure.  I knew they had to roll down my sleeve because it was too tight, but they didn’t understand me.  Instead, they had to race me off to the hospital.  I heard them wonder why I hadn’t passed out.  It suited me.  I didn’t want to have to pay for an ambulance anyway.

The ER nurse was not such a dimwit and quickly determined that my blood pressure was fine.  She tsk-tsked the medics.  

The doctor was friendly and asked if I had OD’d on anything.  “Okay, it’s a trust issue now.  I don’t want to stick a tube down your throat and pump your stomach needlessly.  Can you promise me that you haven’t taken anything?”

“I promise.  I haven’t taken anything.  I’m just having trouble not hurting myself.”

“Okay.  I’m trusting you.  We’ll take care of you.  I’ll have someone come and talk to you.”

I waited.  A man came and introduced himself as Mario.  We talked about my feeling unsafe.  He took notes.

“I think you should stay with us at the hospital.  You can be safe here.”

I nodded.  This had really been my goal since calling the all night nurse.  I just wasn’t able to drive myself to the hospital and walk in.  Maybe next time.

After several hours, a very tired person climbed into a hospital bed with crisp sheets and hospital clothes.  I wondered how long this visit would last.

Lesson Learned:  After this, I was more direct about being in danger and needing help. If the 24 hour nurse said I needed to go to the emergency room, I went. I made sure she called the ER to ensure I was identified and could get help without additional drama. I didn’t need anything to dissuade me from getting help. 

Joceile

[Circa 1998]