Admit One

 

I was standing in front of a large wooden desk covered with a dirty green cloth. On top of the cloth was a telephone, a vase of flowers in a sickly yellow colour and a box of chocolates. Half of the chocolates had been eaten. Behind the desk sat the person who, no doubt, was the person who had eaten the chocolates; a secretary in a pale mint green laboratory coat, a gold watch on her left wrist and a pair of thick round glasses. Overweight, with short curly grey hair and a smile on her face; she almost looked like a kind and warm grandmother. However, that nice and cosy air around her quickly faded away when I looked at her eyes.

                      “Hello… I am here to check in” “Really?” she looked at me over the top of her thick glasses. Can she seriously see me? I thought she was halfway blind! “I see… Have you been diagnosed yet?” “Um… No, not exactly. But my doctor thought it best to send me here.” I held on tighter to my suitcase and raised my shoulders. I was definitely uncomfortable. “Oh, I see! Please take a seat, the doctor will be here in a second” I looked around and saw a single chair standing in the far corner of the waiting room. Not a lot of visitors I guess. I sat down, suitcase on my knees, as a protecting shield between me and the secretary, who was sitting across the room apparently solving a crossword puzzle. I looked around the waiting room and found the walls to be covered with brown and blue striped wallpaper, a closer look revealed that the wallpaper was no longer holding on to most of the corners. A further glance towards the ceiling revealed a large stain which appeared to be some kind of fungus spreading along the edge of the wallpaper. Suddenly I became unsure if it had been a good idea to come here. I looked at the secretary again and cleared my throat; “Excuse me, but what exactly do you do here?” Once again she looked at me over the top of her thick glasses. “Well, we cure people of course!” “And how exactly do you do that?” “With electricity” she gave me an irritated look and returned to her crossword puzzle. “But… what if electricity does not work” She looked at me again even more irritated “Well, then we use more electricity of course” “But if that still does not work?” I insisted. She resumed her crossword puzzle; “Then the good doctor will come up with something special I’m sure. Don’t you worry; the doctor has never failed to prescribe a patient with a treatment.” Her pencil began scribbling along the paper and her forehead revealed a frown as she once again concentrated on solving her crossword puzzle. I leaned back in the chair and once again looked at the disgusting stain on the ceiling. I swear it looks like it is growing by the minute! I looked at my watch only to realize that it had stopped. Footsteps brought me back to reality and I looked up just in time to see the large wooden door behind the secretary open. Behind the heavy door was a large muscular man, at least 6 feet tall, if not taller. He wore a tight green shirt with a red butterfly, which looked oddly out off place against his extremely muscular neck, and black heavy boots. At first glance he looked more like a man who had come straight out of the military and not out of medical school. He looked me up and down and I nervously rose from the uncomfortable chair.

                      “Hello there! And welcome to Sewer Sanatorium! Please follow me to my office and we’ll get you settled in!” He turned around and began marching in high speed down the narrow hall. I picked up my suitcase and quickly followed him into the sanatorium. The narrow hallway had been decorated with the same hideous wallpaper as the waiting room had been. The hallway was very cold and even though there were no windows a small stream of cold air seemed to be drifting through the walls. When we neared the end of the hallway I saw that it split into two doors placed opposite of each other; the one facing west was tall and made of some kind of dark wood, which I did not recognize. Its doorknob appeared to be made of solid gold and it had been lavishly decorated with what looked to be lions. To the east was a double door constructed in some kind of heavy looking metal. The cold drift seemed to be coming from there. The doctor turned toward the wooden door, and held it open as I walked trough and entered a large rectangular office. I walked to the far end of the room where a large desk had been placed between to chairs; one looking much more comfortable than the other. The large desk appeared to have been made of oak, it had been heavily polished and its surface displayed case files, several expensive looking pens, pictures of the doctor in several exotic locations and a bunch of framed diplomas. The doctor sat down at the desk and nodded at the chair at the opposite side of him. I sat down in the chair that was as uncomfortable as it looked, and took another quick glance around the room. Unlike the waiting room this office was luxuriously furnished and had a warm feeling to it. The latter probably had more to do with the fact that the room had not one, but two fireplaces, and less to do with the décor. As I looked around I noticed more pictures of the doctor on the walls, each and everyone portrayed him in an exotic place or beside a famous person or both. At the far end corner next to the door we had just entered were a huge closet full of extravagant clothes and a gold framed mirror hanging next to it. Some might want to check the good doctor for a bad case of narcissism. I moved uneasily in the chair and once again turned my attention towards the doctor and his enormous desk. I looked down for a second and noticed a small golden platter attached to the front of the desk: Dr. Archibald Ztrangler. Well, to be fair the doctor was half German. Or at least that was what the rumour said. I heard the doctor fumbling around with some papers and looked up again just as he decided that it was time to address the issue in front of us.

                      “Now, tell me, why are you here?” his voice was deep and a little gravely, more suited for screaming out orders than for talking to nervous patients. “Well, my doctor sent me here. He believed that it would do me good.” “Then I am sure it will! Now you would not mind having to answer a few questions, would you?” “No, no of course not. Ask away!” “Alright…” he looked down on a stack of papers he had just retrieved from one of the many drawers in the desk. “Firstly! Do you dream a lot?” “No, my sleep is more often lacking dreams than containing them.” “Very good, very good! Now, when you do dream, what do dream of?” “Well… Mostly it is about things I’ve experienced during the day, but sometimes they are just very confusing. You know, like most dreams are.” “I see, I see… Was your childhood a happy on?” “I think so, yes. My parents were happy together and we never faced any hard times when I was growing up.” “Interesting, interesting… Now tell me; are you in a relationship at the moment?” ”Not at the moment.” “I see, so would you say you exercise a lot?” “I’m afraid not. I work 70 hours a week and when I get home I’m too tired to even think about exercise.” “Aha… Now just give me a moment and I will consult my books!” He got up from his very comfortable looking chair and turned towards his heavily filled bookcases lining the wall behind him. I took another glance at his desk and found that a lot of his diplomas had interesting titles: Very Important Diploma, Diplloma, Some Kind Of Medical Diploma. I suddenly became unsure about the doctor’s credentials. A loud creek on the other side of the desk brutally pulled me out of my mind and into the world inhabited by others again, as the doctor sat back down and once again looked me up and down. “Well, I have to fill out your papers and make a file about you, so I am going to be very busy in the next few hours. But not to worry; one of my assistants will take you to your cell.” As he uttered the last words he pushed a button hidden on the side of the desk and a loud buzz travelled through the room and out into the hallway. A few seconds later the door opened and a man twice the size of the doctor entered the room. “My assistant here will show you the way to your cell. I will see you tomorrow when your treatment begins.” He looked down into his papers again and I slowly moved towards the door and the assistant, not sure if it would not be better if I just left the sanatorium altogether? The assistant lead me back out in to the hallway and opened the heavy double doors and let me into the heart of the facility. It suddenly became clear to me how the sanatorium had earned its name; the stench was almost unbearable! It consisted of sweat, urine and human flesh in decay; it was overwhelming and almost knocked me out. The hallway had been painted in a pale blue colour, but the walls were stained with blood and faeces, making the blue colour appear cold and unwelcoming. The fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling only made the hallway seem even colder and more uninviting. One side of the hallway consisted of cells while the other had rows of heavy looking metal doors covering the disgusting walls. Moaning, screaming and gibberish filled the air along with the foul stench. Me and the assistant passed several cells before we finally came to the one that was meant for me. It was a rusty metal door, with the number 15 painted on it and the inside was painted white. It had clearly been washed although there was still evidence of the former occupant to be found in there. There was not much furniture; a single bed with no pillow and no covers, a fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling and a dirty old toilet with no rim on it in the far end corner. I put down my suitcase as the assistant closed and locked the door behind me. I suddenly realised that everyone had told me about the many treatments of this place, but so far no one had told me about the people who had been cured…