The Daily Tar Heel
11
Russell Roberts
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Thursday, April 25, 1374
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A few weeks ago, I spent a day in South
Wing, the psychiatry department ot"
Memorial Hospital. I'd never been in a
psychiatric ward. 1 wanted to see what one
looked hke and, more importantly, 1 wanted
to see if the patients conformed to the
stereotypes I'd had of disturbed people. How
different would they be from myself? Would
I be able to talk to them? What could I learn
from them?
South Wing consists of three in-patient
floors of 18 beds each. The floors are layed
out in double corridors of six rooms each
with a day room at the front of the ward. The
day room is a multi-purpose dining and
relaxation room with tables, couches, a color
television and a radio.
At 9 a.m., I'm sitting in the day room of
4th floor South Wing. I'm waiting for
Rodney, a nurse who I will spend much of
the day with. I'm nervous, very nervous. The
patients sit looking straight ahead or flip
through a newspaper as I am doing. But my
mind isn't following the words.
I look up to see a friend of mine who works
in the hospital. He is standing in the entrance
to the day room with a clipboard in his hand.
Our eyes travel the 20 feet between us. His
register surprise, mine fear.
He thinks I'm a patient. I haven't seen him
in a few weeks and he doesn't know I'm
doing this for the paper. I'm ashamed,
embarrassed. I spring from my chair as
quickly as I can and I am standing next to
2r:ers 10 tme editors
him. "What's happening, he says. "Oh," I
say, as nonchalantly as I can to hide the
almost panic in my voice. "I'm doing this for
the Tar HeelJ" And then he understands.
That was the closest 1 came to feeling the
emotions of a patient. I spent much time in
the day room, talking to patients and nurses.
The atmosphere is quiet and relaxed. Many
of the patients sit by themselves. For much of
the conversation between patients goes on in
individual rooms. The patients prefer the
privacy afforded there.
A young girl sits in her room doing a
crossword puzzle. She must be around 15.
She loves crossword puzzles, she says, she
just has trouble finishing them. I help her out
on a corner, giving clues and guiding her to
the right words. When 1 compliment her on
her vocabulary she smiles proudly.
"Thank you very much, she says slowly,
pronouncing the words carefully. My
teachers in high school always told me 1 had
a good vocabulary." Ten across is a four
letter printing term for "Let it stand." She
finally gets it by a process of elimination.
"Oh yes," she says. "I learned that word in
college. I was going to be a secretary."
In a meeting, the night before my visit, the
patients were told that I am a journalist. But
they are still willing to talk to me. Some
search for sympathy. Others complain.
Some do a little of both.
A man beckons to me. "Do you want to
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talk to me now?" he asks. "Because I'm going;,
to go to bed soon. They give me some drugs
and I have to go to sleep." The words come
out like syrup as his body trembles slowly. "I
was doing some painting and everything
went wrong. I'm a painter, see. They were all
yelling at me. My nerves couldn't take it. But
I'm not crazy. I'm not the smartest guy in the
world, but I'm not crazy. I never should have
signed those papers."
He was referring to the papers of
committment. According to recently passed
North Carolina laws, the hospital can
initiate committment but the final decision is
made by a magistrate. Dr. Paine, the director
of South Wing's in-patient service, said that
the hospital prefers patients to come to them
voluntarily. "We have nothing to gain by
committment," he said.
There are currently six or seven
committed patients residing in South Wing.
They are spread over all three floors. The
door to the outside is locked due to this
mixing of patients. But some patients are
free to come and go as they please. Privileges
vary according to the acuteness of the
individual case.
The day to day life of any patient is fairly
unstructured. One structured activity,
however, is recreational therapy, which is
urged but optional. The object of the therapy
in the words of a therapist is to "let the
patients have fun." On my day in the ward.
the game was volleyball.
The game borders on the spirited. A tall
player with a great block shot randomly
booms out the first line of a Johnny Cash
song. "I can almost hear the whistle." His
friends tease him. "Don't you know the rest
of the song," they ask. Their comments
remind me of good absurd humor.
Just before I left, I spoke again with the
girl who liked crosswords, who was evidently
older than she looked. She talked of how
well she used to do in school. "I used to get a
few 'Cs,' lots of 'Bs' and 'As too." She talked
about a paper she once did that she was
particularly proud of. "You sound Hke you
were a very good student," I said.
And again she responded slowly, proudly,
"Thank you very much." Her eyes were like
bright stars. "Do you have to go now?"
"Yes," I said. "What was your name again?" I
told her. "Well, it's been very nice meeting
you," she said in her slow articulate fashion.
I said goodbye.
When I left the ward at 4:30, I was
physically and emotionally drained. Some of
my questions had gone unanswered but
mostly I felt satisfaction. I would return to
classes the next day while those I had talked
to would remain behind the locked door
enduring the slow process or readjustment.
But as Dr. Paine had told me earlier that
morning, "Psychiatry isn't like surgery. It
unfolds over weeks and months."
ielicopter racket disturbs life's flow
V
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To the editors:
I am sure that 1 was not the only Chapel
Hillian whose day was disturbed last week by
a low-flying helicopter. The piercing,
mechanical bursts of sound interrupted the
natural flow of life all over campus, from the
library to the tennis courts. It came as a
shock to learn that the chopper was not up
for any good reason. According to The Tar
Heel, the Navy air vehicle was simply giving
joy rides to prospective recruits.
Does the Navy realize that there are still
people in the world who cherish what little
peace is left to man, and who deplore such
waste of energy? Does it realize that these
people, i.e. the township of Chapel Hill, has
a law against flying over town at under 1,000
feet altitude? Why wasn't the Navy piolot
arrested for breaking this law? Isn't
pollution, waste, the frightening of dogs.
birds and children, the attacking of mental
peace, as great a crime as one can commit?
If the Navy pilot and his gang are not
brought to trial, then one must conclude that
the laws exist only to be respected by
individuals and broken by powerful
corporations like the U.S. Navy.
Whitney Reed
103 Kenan Street
w y s M y
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bscene' freaks
disturb studiers
To the editors:
So what the hell is going on at the Forest
Theatre, and where is the DTH when we
need you? This is a rough time of year, and
up until now streaking has been a good
enough outlet for the student libido. But a
few of us at Graham Dorm have seen things
that would make even Jesse Helms approve
of streaking.
At approximately 1 a.m. on April 19, we
were up studying when someone looked out
the window and noticed that about 13 or 14
people were gathered at the top of the steps
leading down to the Forest Theatre. They
were all dressed in long, dark clothes and.
were chanting some sort of refrain. We can't
repeat it here, but it would make Mick
Jagger's songs sound like hymns.
Two of us went to investigate, but when we
tried to join the fun, some babe who seemed
to be in charge of things told us to split. We
pretended to leave, but returned a few
minutes later. By this time, the group had
withdrawn to inner recesses of the theatre
and was engaged in performing "obscene"
rites (we use the word loosely).
So what's going on? Have the Hindoo
freaks expanded their program, or has
somebody seen The Exorcist too many
times? If these people have their minds
ff
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blown, that is their problem, but some of us
would like to study for finals.
Mavis Johnson
Ray Stroud
Kenny Rolf man
Robert Richie
Christian means
living and loving
To the editors:
In reference to the past few letters in the
DTH about Christianity, I would like to
comment on the position taken by the pro
Christians. I am surprised to hear that the
crux of Christianity is that Christ was
resurrected. As a Christian myself, I place
more emphasis on the life and meaning of life
Christ expressed through his teachings. If
each could livethe moral code he taught and -express
the love and respect for oneself and
other people, animals and all life, that was
lived by Jesus, then there would be no wars
and no crime. More realistically, if each
could try, it would be a nicer world for all,
and I'm sure everyone's God would be
pleased. It is useless to argue the fine
interpretation of doctrine. Religion is
something which must be felt and expressed
by each individual in his own way. I suggest
we allow everyone the freedom to reach his
own understanding of his highest nature,
and express the truth he discovers in
accordance with his personal individualism.
We will always see the truth of another
differently, for each hears harmony by the
tune he plays himself.
Dawn Vospalek
301 Kenan
Jane Wettach
Wttnatt' is orientation?
Orientation a word that evokes visions
of meaningless activities that are arranged by
some obscure student committee for the new
students who arrive each fall. It evoked that
image to me, too, until about six months ago
when I was asked to become chairman of the
Orientation Commission.
I groped for a long time trying to figure
out just what it means to plan a program for
3,000 freshmen and 1,000 transfers. At the
same time I was wondering why I was
spending much time and energy on what I
really believed to be the administration's
responsibility. It was not until last week that
I discovered what orientation is all about.
- One night I was by myself in my room,
immensely enjoying the solitude and
freedom from everything except studying.
About 10 p.m. the phone rang.
After some awkward introductions, I
learned that the Caller had transferred to
UNC this past January. He remembered me
from the short orientation program we had
put on for the 75 new students then.
He was calling me because after being at
school here for three months, he has virtually
no friends. After my initial reaction of "that's
not the way it's supposed to happen," I asked
him to come over. Just give me a half-hour to
finish the last 150 pages of Dr. Zhivago for
Russian Lit tomorrow, I said.
I didn't read much more of Dr. Zhivago.
Rather, I thought about orientation and how
we had failed this guy and what we might
have done differently so that he would not be
making this disguised plea to me. To this
point orientation had meant agendas for
meetings, arrangements, phone calls. I had
not yet really been involved with new
students on a personal level.
It wasn't difficult to understand why my
caller was in his situation. An out-of-state
student who rented a single room off
campus, he had not found a good way to
meet people.
For freshmen, the orientation counselors
will hopefully avoid situations like this one.
But the transfers,, who live off-campus and
resent anything akin to a freshman-type
program, might very easily live here without
finding friends. I don't want this to happen.
We have devised a program that will
hopefully work. We are asking each
academic department and school to provide
a transfer orientation individually. This will
give the transfers an opportunity to meet
some faculty and students in their
department before classes start.
Although we have taken initial steps
toward arranging these, the lack of time and
the numbers involved make it difficult for
the commission to organize everything
before the end of the semester. I would
request anyone interested in helping with an
orientation in his department or school
students and faculty to send his or her
name and phone number to the Orientation
Commission, Box 17, Student Union.
Maybe if we get enough support in this, next
semester's transfers won't find themselves
with no friends after three months.
m hanlt You For Your Patronaqe.
The employees and management of Chase Hall;
the Pine Room and the Union Snack Bar
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From the staff of the University of
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For information inquire with
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Call: 933-3766
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Chspsl HI!!, N.C. 27514
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