I noticed the men in white suits always worked in twos. One tall, heavy, an older man in his late forties, maybe fifty.
He stood in the doorway, arms folded, like he was guarding it. Stopping me from leaving, which I wasn’t, but never-the-less intimidating.
A younger man in his early twenties, not much older than me was preparing something on a cart. He turned and handed me some liquid in a small cup.
“Here, drink this.”
It tasted bitter. The young white coat patted the top of a gurney.
“Jump up here.” I did as he asked.
I lay there staring at the fluorescent ceiling lights. It was quiet except for muffled voices off in another room somewhere. I strained my head around to see if the white coats had left. The older one was still there in the doorway. ’The stereo-typical good cop-bad cop,’ I was thinking. Only they weren’t cops, but they represented the same thing. Authority.
I drifted into semi-consciousness. I was vaguely aware of more white suits crowding around me, strapping me to the gurney, placing something on my head, squeezing my face, and shoving a rubber plug in my mouth. Then a screeching sound like feedback through a loud speaker. Wheeeeeeeeeeeee.
For a brief moment zig-jag patterns of light danced left to right across my field of vision. Then nothing, I was unconscious. I awoke in what seemed like a few seconds later. I was still strapped down, but the room was empty. The lights overhead were turned off. There were no widows in the room, just the light through the open door to a corridor.
The first thing I noticed was that I had pissed on myself. Urine soaked my back, and stung the insides of my thighs. My head felt like my brain was twice its normal size and was pushing my eyeballs out of their sockets.
“Hey,” I yelled, “Anybody there?”
The young white coat came back in the room, “How are you?” he asked. “Do you have a headache?”
“Yes, I have the mother of all headaches. What the fuck did you just do to me?”
“You had ECT, Electroconvulsive Therapy. It’s part of your treatment.”
“I pissed myself.”
“I see that, it’s not unusual. I’ll take you for a bath, and get you some clean pajamas.”
The older white suit suddenly materialized and began removing the restraints.
“Can you sit up? Here’s something for your headache.”
The young white suit helped me up and handed me two tablets and some water. I took them and lay back down. They pushed me down the corridor to a bathroom where they helped me out of my wet pajamas and into a warm bath.