Quote:
Originally Posted by RickyMaveety
I'll never forget visiting a friend in the psych ward ... came in on one shift, tried to leave on another.
So much fun trying to convince them that I was not one of the current inmates. 
(1972 that was .... wow, long time ago ....) |
I spent a summer working in a psycho-geriatric ward in the 1970s.
Lovely people. Nasty smell.
I can still remember taking a group of the older patients to a newly-converted art therapy suite. To my immense surprise they absolutely refused to go in. Normally, they were confused but very biddable. It turned out that the room had formerly been the place used for electro-convulsive treatment in the 1950s, and the oldies were afraid that I was going to do horrible things to them.
I tried pointing out that I was a teenager and not a doctor, but they were still sceptical. So I asked for one volunteer to look at the facilities and report to the others. A chap called Herbert bravely agreed. They did go in, once he reported that the place had paints, paper and no machines of any sort.
The art therapist and I then got all the patients to paint murals, handprints and anything else they liked all over the walls. After that, no one could mistake it for a treatment room. The senior management were not pleased because they had just had the suite repainted in magnolia and expected it to last.