I remember getting out of the room, after what felt like days, even weeks or months. At first I wandered back and forth between the door of my room and an adjacent door that led to the stairwell. I could see it led to a stairwell through glass with wires in it. I remember trying desperately to open the stairwell door, because if I could just get out of there, I would run home to my family. I remember thinking that I’d definitely be cold, but I didn’t care, and perhaps someone nice would offer me a jacket along the way.
But the stairwell door was locked, which was very confusing for me because as an architect, you NEVER lock egress doors (the doors that lead to OUT). I remember feeling very concerned for my safety in the event of a fire. I later thought about and figured, in excruciating detail and probably over and over and over again, how this is obviously to prevent crazies like myself from escaping, and how, in the event of a fire, I’m sure someone with a key would come and unlock it, assuming they were not on fire, or perhaps it was an automated system or something.
But in the meantime, I was not getting out that way. I remember being very aware that I was a captive, though the nature of my captivity and how I came to be there in the first place were lost on me in the moment. I decided that I would plead my case to the nearest available person in charge, who at the moment was a large nurse (I found out later he was a nurse but at the time I just saw an ID badge). His name was James, like me and my son. I remember thinking this was either a very good sign or yet another indicator that I was indeed in Hell and would be reminded of my former life in this way all the time. I approached him at his portable standing laptop and said something to the effect of, “I… Home… son.. out…” to which he said something to the effect of, “No, not right now. Go back to your room.”
Well as I had by this point taken several steps away from “my room,” as it were, I looked back and had absolutely no idea where I had left it, so returning there was out of the question, just as a non-starter. I also realized that this man’s standing laptop was much more important than I was in the moment, so I decided that I had to take matters into my own hands.
Quickly looking around, I saw a large window spanning the length of a public common area – Perfect. I would go out the window, land in the snow, and run home to my son. Sure, I would be bloody from the window (which I then realized I had decided to jump through…), but I would be OUT, and I’d be free, and I would go home to my son. And maybe get that jacket from a kind person I was banking on.
So, in the interest of getting down to business, I took aim at the window. Realizing that I’d get more momentum if I backed up, I walked into an open room behind me, all the way to the window of that room, and then sprinted as fast as I could at the large window, jumped up, and closed my eyes, preparing to crash through…
I remember hitting the window hard with my face and body, and knocking my left shin very hard against the radiator enclosure below the window, then stumbling to the ground while the one or two other patients in the room gasped and muttered to one another. The large male nurse walked over, sounding exasperated and saying something to the effect of, “Aw, no… don’t jump at the windows…” in a half-bewildered, half annoyed tone. He then took me first to my original room where he quickly learned that I had peed on top of the bed, and then to another patient room where he told me to stay. I then laid on the bed and fell asleep.
…
I woke up later that night, and was told by a nurse that I had visitors. She took me to the visitors area where my sister and my wife were waiting for me. I immediately started crying. They were crying too, and we all tried our best to bumble through what the fuck was going on. I told them I had tried to jump through a window, of which they said they’d been told. I remember asking what on earth was happening to me, and they said that they didn’t know…
“I just want to go home,” I said, sobbing.
“I know,” they both said as they comforted me.
They told me I’d be held there now until the hospital could be sure I was safe. I told them that I wanted to know that I was safe too, that I didn’t know how I had become so confused and disoriented, and that I had only jumped at the window because I was trying to get home to them and to Jimmy. They said they understood.
We all tried to calm down a bit and eventually they told me goodnight and left. I went back to my bedroom and uncomfortably tried my best to go to sleep.
The Absolute Center of Everything 