Rev. Susan Joy Huizenga on treating a mentally ill patient for the first time

Drugs Anyone?

A dialogue from a Summer 1988 CPE unit at St. Elizabeth’s Hospital:

During the past six years of facilitating a weekly group in our substance abuse unit, I have heard many heart-wrenching stories and seen first-hand what happens when people abuse drugs. Since I am aware that substance abuse is rampant in our society, I am very disturbed that few people seem to realize that one can become permanently psychotic from drug abuse.

Diane's interaction with me left a powerful impression on my mind, one which sticks with me years later. At the time I was almost in a state of disbelief, and recognized how much I had to learn. Since then I've been aware of how much I wish to spare others from similar consequences in their lives.

Looking back, I'm glad I spent the summer at St. Elizabeth‘s, where I fell in love with mental health chaplaincy. Although I did not realize it at the time, a blueprint for ministry was becoming planted in my soul.

Fresh from a lecture on The Pastoral Care of Psychiatric Patients, Suzette stepped out into the muggy air with a feeling of confidence. “Now that I know what to do, I’m going to do it,” she thought to herself. “I can do this,” she said aloud, not sure if anyone was listening.

The muggy air was close with humidity nearing ninety percent. I wonder if it’s always so hot here in August. “Yes,” Suzette mused, “they just told us that Washington D.C. was so unbearable in the early days that politicians received extra pay to suffer through August.” The city was built on swampland, and today it was rather obvious.

Heading toward the aging yet stately building, Suzette wondered who she would meet today. She was certainly prepared. She’d already been oriented to the basics of mental illnesses and treatments. Armed with a religious and spiritual assessment form, she felt ready.

Locking the door dutifully behind her, she found a young woman sitting alone at a round table. “Hi!” the woman said, then quickly asked, “Who are you?”

“I’m Suzette, a chaplain intern. What’s your name?”

“I’m Diane. Look at my nails. The aide painted them. Aren’t they pretty?” Diane had an eerie, almost permanent smile on her face.

“Yes, they are pretty,” Suzette replied. “How are you doing today, Diane?”

“I’m fine.” She replied, then stared out the window at the bleak surroundings as a faint breeze blew in the window, refreshing both of them with a ninety-degree puff of air.

“It’s sure hot today, isn’t it?” Suzette asked lamely, not sure what to say next.

“My name is Diane. The aide did my nails. Did you see them?” She held them up again for me to appreciate.

“Yes, I saw them. They are nice.” Inside Suzette panicked. What was going on? Now she really did not know what to do.

Nearby, an attendant, an older woman, noticed Suzette’s plight.

“Come here,” she directed Suzette. Obediently following her out of Diane’s hearing, Suzette listened carefully as the attendant got right to the point.

“She’s done every drug out there. Twenty-six years old…her poor mother! It’s such a shame. And she has kids, too.”

Numb from shock, Suzette pondered her own twenty-four years. Nothing had prepared her for meeting someone whose brain was permanently damaged from illegal drug use.

“Is…. is there anything that can help her?” she stammered.

The attendant shook her head sadly.

“Thank you for your help. I really appreciate it.” Suzette tried to be gracious.

Turning back to Diane, she went to say goodbye.

“Goodbye, Diane. I’ll see you another day.” Suzette was hesitant to leave.

“What’s your name?” Diane asked.

“I’m Suzette, a new chaplain intern.” Suzette replied.

“Did you see my nails? Aren’t they pretty? The aide painted them for me.”

Do you have thoughts about education & research you’d like to share with your colleagues? Send an e-mail to info@PlainViews.org.