My First Day in a Mental Hospital in the 1990's
My first day as an inpatient in a mental hospital in the 1990's “How long have you been here?” the gaunt, unshaven man asked the Glaswegian lady sitting next to me, his fingers tapping the table too fast for my liking. He had a feral, haunted look in his eyes, and the smell of rotting eggs hung around him like an unwanted guest. The three of us sat on hard plastic chairs around a hard plastic table in the bleak hospital canteen. A canteen that was far from welcoming; white walls, white floors, metal sinks and kitchen staff who looked like they would have chewed off their arms to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. On nearby tables, other patients picked at their flavourless food, muttering quietly, or pushing it around their plates with no intention of letting it anywhere near their mouths. It was my first breakfast as an inpatient in the Royal Edinburgh Psychiatric Hospital, and it was not a meal I ever want to repeat. I was seventeen and fe...