Benny

Belmont Hills Hospital

October 19 – November 3, 1995

Benny had a large sore the size of a silver dollar in the middle of his forehead. The doctors had him wear a baseball cap, or other type of hat, as an attempt to restrain him from his harmful compulsions. Benny was at Belmont Hills Hospital because he had Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. He had been at Belmont longer than anyone else. Two months was a long stay since Belmont has not considered a long-term treatment center. Most of the patients were at Belmont for suicide attempts. After such an attempt, the patient is put on a 72 hour hold, and then it is not usually long before they were released. But Benny was not at Belmont for suicide watch and was not packing his bags to leave when I arrived.

Benny's sore was a result of his obsessive rubbing. He tried to explain to me as not being able to stop doing something once he started; his compulsions created an inability to restrain himself. Benny had to be accompanied by staff when he showered, brushed his teeth, or even just washed his hands. Without staff intervention he might end up washing his hands for hours. The availability of Belmont staff was not generous, and so when I arrived Benny had not showered in five days.

On first meeting, Benny and his sore had quite an uninviting character. It was easy to feel agitated or nervous just watching him obsessively pace or count ceiling tiles. Sometimes I just wanted to grab him and shake him in an attempt to rid himself of his jitters. But Benny was not a difficult person to avoid. He kept to himself and was uninterested in involving himself with the group. Like most other residents, If found myself, at first, not purposely avoiding him, but just making little effort towards engaging myself with him. It was during a Friday night movie when our two separate worlds would unexpectedly collide.

It was Friday – the beginning of another exciting weekend full of mandatory and monotonous movies. Don't get me wrong – weekends were the best days at Belmont – but still we were caged. I definitely felt that watching movies was a better waste of my time than sitting through redundant therapy sessions. Unable to any longer sit on the maroon carpet watching the stories of other people's lives in an attempt to defocus myself from my problems, I walked out into the main hallway. The alternative to watching movies was hanging out in front of the nurse's station – just where Benny always paced during movies. I watched him assume his nervous movements as he attempted to rub his pussing sore – my idle eyes seemed to dance his him. This strange boy, and the ideas that filled his head during hours of walking, suddenly intrigued me.

I'm not exactly sure how our conversation began, but it would last for over an hour. As I conversed with Benny, I realized he had some of the most incredible insight on his and other people's lives. His words were full of expression and clarity reaching much deeper than the shallow whispers shared by other residents. He shared with me his sadness and frustration from being transferred from hospital to hospital. Unlike me, he really wanted to get better and felt he was willing to jump through any hoop to do it. Due to different facilities understandings of OCD he had been sent from place to place in an attempt to place him somewhere where he could be helped. He was hoping to get transferred to Stanford Hospital, but was currently struggling to find payment since his insurance was unwilling to cover it.

I found myself opening up to this strange boy. I shared with Benny my fears and hatreds of being away from home; and Benny truly listened. While we talked, he did not pace and kept consuming eye contact. My conversation with Benny was the first I had had at the hospital where the main topic wasn't drugs.

From that day on, and until I left, Benny grew to be my one friend at Belmont that I truly trusted. I did not fear that he spoke to me through selfish motives. I spoke to him when I was upset, when I needed someone to listen, or when I needed to speak not a word. Benny taught me that a friend can be just a welcome away. The day I was discharged from Belmont Hills Hospital, Benny was still pacing the same hallways.