Chapter ThreeIntake
I wasn’t taken directly to the room. No, they had to finish the “intake” process, which meant, well, one hell of a ride.
Two muscled men dressed in white with dark, full face covering masks, quickly came along, lifted me up and carried me under their arms through several corridors painted in white. As I stared at the floor scuff marks here and there told a story of other patient struggles; some who did not go quietly to whatever awaited them. I had to assume the scuff marks were from the orderlies’ dark shoes because, I soon learned, patients wore nothing but socks or form fitting, soft slippers. Yes, there were more than a few smudges on the tiled floor. I thought maybe they might have someone clean them off, and perhaps they eventually did, but it was also a subtle
