Pregled posta

Marketing

After I returned from Viet-Nam, I received my orders for a second tour of duty at The Naval Schools of Photography. It wasn’t long before I realized that I was different. I didn’t fit in, or feel comfortable around the photo school like before. I cried a lot when I was alone. I went to sick bay looking for help. I was admitted into the Mental Ward, and locked in with addicts, and alcoholics. The doors were locked at all times.

Hallucinations, to these doctors, meant only one thing, drugs. It was 1970. It was too soon for Vietnam Vets to be coming in. The first of us were coming on the scene, but there was no medical clarification or diagnosis to cover what we were suffering from. Along with flashbacks, I suffered from positive hallucinations, and occasionally negative hallucinations. In the first, you see people “who aren’t there.” In the latter, you don’t see people “who are there.”

After a couple of weeks, Pensacola decided I needed more care than they were equipped to handle. One of the male nurses on my ward came in and told me I was being transferred to the Naval Hospital, Philadelphia and the plane would leave at 0930.

I began packing a few things from my locker. When that was done, I put on my chief’s uniform, buffed my shoes to get the dust off, and sat down to read a magazine. I didn’t get to the magazine. The nurse saw me and hurriedly made his was to my bunk.

“You are no Chief in here, Jaynes,” he told me.

“Like hell I’m not. I was appointed by the President of the United States.”
He called in two more male nurses.
Are you going to change, or do we have to change you?”
I stood there, finally realizing I didn’t stand a chance, and put on the blue pajamas.


Then a doctor, whom I’d never seen before, came back to my bunk.
“I need to give you a shot right quick, Jaynes,” he said. “Turn around and drop your pants.” The shot only took a second. “We’ll be leaving in just a few minutes,” he told me.

The shot kicked in and I barely remember getting in the airplane. Truth is, it was a Medical Flight. I didn’t know there was such a thing. The shot was in full control now. My mouth went dry and my eyesight blurred.

I was lying in the middle bunk. There was one above and one below me. A nurse pulled straps across my body and cinched them tight to the bunk.
My next memory is on a gurney in a hallway, still restrained. I wasn’t alone. There were many more gurneys with people on them. There were some who just walked all the time, talking to themselves. A few of them stopped to talk. I met God there. And if that wasn’t enough, I also met His Son. They wore blue pajamas same as mine.

I don’t know how long I lay there, but a huge burly guy wheeled me into a room, removed the restraints, stood me to my feet, and left. I walked over to the door and pulled on it. It was locked. The walls were soft, padded. No windows, except a tiny little square in the door.

“Somebody!” I yelled. Nothing. “Somebody let me out of here!” Nothing. It was no use. They weren’t going to let me out. I went to sleep on the floor leaning against the door, in case someone opened it, I would know it.

Very early the next morning they came for me, and 'Hey, they let me walk to the plane this time, barefooted and cold."

"Damn, it’s still dark out here.” An aid took me to my bunk and assisted me in getting up there. I thanked him. First polite gesture I’m seen since I left the photo school in Pensacola. It was only a couple of minutes before a nurse came over, a real woman-type nurse. She sort of grunted at me, but didn’t really speak. She wrote something on a little tag with a string on it, and pinned it to my pajama shirt. When she walked away, I tucked my chin down as far as I could so I could read it.

"Paranoid Schizophrenia"
-end-
WT

I applied the neck band immediately after sewing the shoulder seams. I wanted to try it on without worrying about stretching the neckline (and for me, this step is easier while the garment is still flat). Anyway, it was very apparent that the shoulder and armhole needed to be narrowed a bit. I marked the sliver of fabric I removed so that I could accurately transfer the info to the pattern pieces. I also flattened the cap of the sleeve pattern piece just a bit, as a high sleeve cap generally doesn't fit me well.