Word: warded
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...unwonted freedom seemed also unwanted. Patients like Housemaid Anna, who had been in the hospital for ten years, did not know what to make of it. One man had devoted most of his waking hours during 20 locked-up years to testing every door on his ward, trying to get out: when he found them all unlocked, he refused to leave, for fear that he would not be able to get in again. It took him two weeks to get used to the return of freedom...
...guarded to prevent escapes. An attending doctor or nurse had to go through what Dr. Herman B. Snow, director at St. Lawrence, calls "the ritual of the key" to enter a building. Then, jangling a fistful of hardware, he had to repeat the ritual at the door of every ward, at every staircase and elevator. That this security fetish is an illusion is shown by St. Lawrence's experience: it never had many escapes compared with most hospitals, but now has only half as many as previously...
...taken away (the patients might swallow them or drop them down the toilets). Men could not shave themselves. Bathrooms were locked, and patients could not go to them unattended. Knives and forks were banned from the dining halls, so patients had to eat with spoons. No smoking was allowed. Ward windows were barred and curtainless. There were no mirrors, no flower vases, no plant pots, no bottles, no water glasses...
Noise in the Sky. At St. Lawrence, soon after one of the wards was unlocked, one patient returned leading another, who was limping. The explanation: "We heard a noise in the sky. We had heard of airplanes, but could never see one from the closed ward. We got so excited looking at this one that we didn't look where we were going, and Amy fell down." A man kept going to the parking lots, sitting in unlocked cars. Eventually, he broke a silence of years to explain: he could not imagine how a car would work without...
...striking feature at St. Lawrence, which is now 100% open, and in varying degrees at all New York's other state hospitals (average: 66% open), is the transformation of the wards. Gone are the dreary wooden benches, where patients dressed in Mother Hubbards (when they were not undressing themselves) sat listless, sometimes in their own excrement. Instead there is modern, comfortable furniture. Windows, no longer barred, have gay curtains or draperies with drawstrings. Instead of glaring ceiling lights, there are bridge and table lamps. Glass vases hold cut flowers. Plant stands are loaded with potted violets. Glass tumblers...