A Day in the Life

It was the birds I noticed first.  Chirping, cheeping, chittering, an endless symphony of birdsong.  It was too loud.  As I struggled to lift my head from the pillow, I realized something.  I was conscious.  I was still alive. "Shit", I said to no one in particular.
Why was I awake?  It wasn't supposed to be like this.  I took all my medications.  I should at least be in a coma, not lying in bed listening to the birds.  Those fucking, loud, obnoxious birds.  Now what was I supposed to do.  I got up and did the first thing I always do in the morning, I went to pee.
I checked the toilet bowl for blood, but didn't see anything.  My urine was it's normal hue.  Not even a little green.  Once I finished, I went back to my room.  It was about 10:30 AM.  That's a perfectly acceptable time to wake up if you have no place to go.  I was hungry, so I put my sweatpants on and meandered downstairs.
There she was at the kitchen table, going through the paper and drinking her coffee.  I supposed I should say something, but I didn't really know how to say it.  So, I just looked at her and blurted out "I think I should go to the hospital. I took all my pills last night".
I wasn't sure what to expect.  I mean how often does someone tell you that she tried to kill herself.  But my mom's face betrayed nothing. "Oh, Bev!" was all she said.  She hugged me and said "OK".
She fixed me something to eat, eggs I think. We didn't talk about it.  She didn't ask me why or anything.  I found that a bit odd, but I was kind of relieved.  I didn't feel like talking.  After I finished my breakfast, I went and threw some underwear, a pair of jeans, and some socks into a small suitcase.
We got to the hospital and I checked myself in.  I went into the emergency room exam room and waited for the nurse.  While I was waiting, it suddenly hit me.  What I was doing there and how it happened made me feel very tired all of a sudden.  Different people came in and out some to take blood, some to fill out paperwork.  The doctor was nice.  He was the one that asked me why.  I told him I wanted to die.  He asked my mom a couple of questions and patted me on the back.  He told me that he wanted to admit me as a psychiatric patient.  I agreed with that and so it goes.
The psych unit at the hospital was old and had paint the color of oatmeal.  I was in a wheelchair and an orderly was pushing it behind me.  We had to be buzzed in, because psych wards are always locked units.
I was wheeled past people of all kinds.  A lot of them were old people.  There were a couple of younger people, but what I noticed most of all, that I was the only black person there besides members of the staff.
I was checked into the unit. My picture was taken, I was body mapped, and a staff member went through my bag.  I kissed my mom goodbye, and she left.  I was shown to my room, and I immediately lay down on the bed and curled myself into a fetal position.  All I wanted to do was sleep.  They left me alone for the most part.  It was the weekend, and not much happens on the psych ward.  It wouldn't have made much difference to me if it was a weekday.  I lost track of days weeks ago.  Someone came and got me for dinner.  It was bland, high carb with little to recommend it.  I just picked at it, but I did like the fruit cup.