6:05 am: You lie awake in your tiny bed, underneath the salmon covers, your neck sore from sleeping on one pillow (you asked for another but you’ll need a doctor’s order to have more than one.) Your sleep medicine has worn off and you are now once again a prisoner to your insomnia.
All there is to do now is listen to your roommate snore and mutter to herself in her sleep and the sounds of the nurses talking and phones ringing at the nurses station. You remember a Seroquel-induced nightmare you had previously in the night in which you were trapped in a house that was filling with water, drowning and gasping for air. You make a mental note to mention the dream to your doctor later on.
7:00 am: Morning checks. A tech bangs on your door just as you have started to drift off into a sweet sleep again and informs you that you must be up for breakfast in thirty minutes. You incoherently moan something that resembles an “OK,” roll over and close your eyes again.
7:10 am: Brush your teeth, brush your hair, make your bed, and put on a sweatshirt.
7:15 am: You drag your exhausted body out of bed and grab a cup of the weakest, wateriest coffee you have ever ingested from the nurses station. You line up against the wall and prepare to be paraded down to the cafeteria.
7:30 am: Breakfast time. Today is Friday so it’s pancake day, which means spirits are high among the residents. Eggs with cheese, bacon, grits and cereal are also served in the cafeteria, which reminds you of the one that you ate in during your elementary school years. You opt for Cheerios, which you will eat by putting three at a time into your spoon (you are very ritualistic when it comes to your eating habits) and a few sips of black coffee.
7:45 am: You are put on one-on-one after each and every meal, which means a nurse must accompany you at all times because you are bulimic and they don’t trust you not to vomit up your food. This upsets you greatly and you cry.
8:30 am: Community group. You discuss at length the rules and regulations of the hospital (only use the phone for 10 minutes at a time, bath buckets are under no circumstances to be kept in your room, no towels or food in your rooms, no physical contact with other patients.) Someone complains that their book is missing, someone else cries about something you can’t even comprehend. Someone always cries during your meetings. You set a daily goal (to finish your book, do laundry) and share why you are here.
Most people are there for depression, some for anxiety, many for suicide attempts. One or two are there for insomnia, a few for manic episodes and one boy about your age is there for homicidal ideation. It isn’t as scary as it sounds, he is actually very sweet, close to your age and you are already starting to become close with him. His name is Todd and he beat up one of his friends for stealing his now ex-girlfriend. You yourself are there for a suicide attempt (flashback to overdosing on 3000 milligrams of Seroquel, sleeping for 36 hours and then slitting your wrists, slicing each artery, spewing blood all over the walls of your college dormitory.)
9:10 am: You meet with Dr. Williams, your amazing psychiatrist. He is a young man who always looks perpetually concerned; he is unbelievably kind and compassionate. He runs through the usual routine of questions: do you feel like hurting yourself, how are you sleeping, how is your mood (no, bad, depressed) and he takes you off of your lithium and ups your Abilify. He also prescribes you Ambien, which is stronger than the sleep medicine.
9:47 am: Code one! A 90-pound schizophrenic girl screams and punches the walls (she hears voices and sees monsters that aren’t there) and a code team is called to sedate and restrain her. Incidents like this are uncommon on your unit but not unheard of. They take her away, kicking and screaming.
10:00 am: You and Todd sit side by side reading a book and holding hands. His hand is rough and you can’t help but smile. He makes you a little less scared in an unfamiliar setting like this. A tech glares and scolds you for breaking the coveted “no-touching” policy.
11:30 am: Process group with your social workers. Today’s topic is “combating negative thoughts.” You do an exercise where you write a negative thought and three positive ones to counteract it. Several people cry when they read theirs and one man launches into an off-topic diatribe on the importance of exercise until the social worker, Tonya, politely cuts him off.
A short, older lady who claims to have once been a backup singer for Aerosmith preaches on bipolar disorder.
12:30 pm: Lunchtime. Pizza is being served today so everyone is in good spirits, except for you who is a diagnosed anorexic. You get a salad which you drown in mustard and pepper (anorexics have strange eating habits) and a Diet Coke. You don’t finish your salad and a tech tells you you’re going to lose points for not eating, which means you might have to stay longer. You cry.
1:00 pm: Vital signs are taken. They weigh you and make you stand backward on the scale.
1:15 pm: You drink a ton of coffee and experience a sugar/caffeine-induced mania and decide you’re going to start writing a book. A tech tells you to calm down and makes you drink a glass of water.
2:00 pm: Recreational therapy. You watch the movie “The Karate Kid” and popcorn is served. You don’t eat it, which gets noted in your chart by a tech.
2:30 pm: Education group. A short, older lady who claims to have once been a backup singer for Aerosmith preaches on bipolar disorder and the evils of not being compliant with medication.
4:00 pm: Visitation hour.
5:00 pm: Line up for dinner. Tonight is beef stroganoff (everyone groans) and steamed carrots. You don’t eat and spend dinner hour making an elaborate design out of your peas and carrots.
6:00 pm: You sketch a picture of Todd and he draws one of you. It’s true love.
8:00 pm: Closure group. You review the daily goals you set. Some people meet them, others don’t. You met both of yours (to finish your book and do laundry.) A lady who is in there for bipolar disorder breaks down and sobs for 20 minutes about not achieving her goal.
8:30 pm: Finally out of sight from the techs, you and Todd watch TV, his head in your lap, you stroking his hair.
9:00 pm: Night meds, a very popular time of evening for obvious reasons. Everyone races to be at the front of the line. You would think they were giving out hundred dollar bills and not psychiatric medication. You dutifully take your Seroquel and Gabitril for sleep and your Abilify for depression.
9:30 pm: Everyone hangs out in the common room, laughing and talking about anything and everything. You are a big happy family and for a moment, just a moment, you feel like a normal teenager who is not spending her summer in a mental hospital for being a depressive-borderline personality-bipolar-bulimic-anorexic mess. Life is good.
11:00 pm: “Lights out!” a nurse shouts. The manic patients and insomniacs groan in disdain. Todd kisses you when a tech isn’t looking and your heart melts.
11:15 pm: You happily drift off into a deep, medicated slumber, thinking that today was not all that bad and tomorrow probably won’t be either.
Mental hospitals are very misunderstood places. There is a certain stigma not only attached to being a patient in a mental hospital, but to the whole field of mental health to begin with. The people I met during my stay at Holly Hill were not crazy. They were not nuts. They just needed a little extra help and a safe, relaxing place to recuperate from their problems. Most of the people I met were perfectly normal, functioning members of society with jobs, families, friends and a positive future. Some were students, like myself.
Going to a mental hospital is nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed by and I encourage everyone to take that step if they find it necessary. Life can be overwhelming and sometimes we just need to heal. Holly Hill changed my life. I went in suicidal, depressed, and a terrified mess, and two months later, I came out, in the process of being healed, with new friends, and a new perspective on life. My hospitalization not only saved my life, it changed it.
99 comments
I really enjoyed this, though I’m reading it in class and it made me cry so now everyone is worried. I’m going to Holly Hill in a few days and am very afraid. This helped.
my name is paige and my best friend is in a mental hospital and it has been 8 days sense i last saw him and i miss him like crazy. i can not wait til he gets home. i miss him so much that it hurts me….. i hope he is safe but i know he is strong though. he can make it through this. but i can not make it through this i cried for like 3 or 4 days.. and like 10 times
Thankyou for this! I was admitted to a childrens mental hospital a few months ago for 4 months but it felt like a lifetime- i am finding it really hard to deal with and am having hallucinations about it and cant seem to get over! Thankyou again
has any one been to western state mental hospital in va?or any thing close.its a locked facilaty invirginia.juste trying to get a idea what its gonna be like before i go.it will be through csb and the courts.
Reading this made me totally realize I would rather be in my home w my cats then anywhere. near a psych ward. Horrible.
Look, I don’t buy the love story crap. Also, I don’t see this patient being anything like myself either. Sorry, does not sound real to me!
Oh, and if this is really a piece on mental hospitals and not an advertisement then why do you name the facility?
Agreed! This story seems so far fetched! People in the mental/psychiatric ward are not normal people. They have serious problems and were/are disfunctional. Most patients are coming off of serious drugs or have had traumatic life events, this story just sounds like you needed an escape from self harm. Very poor and Inaccuarate viewpoint. .
I’m afraid of being in one of these, I’m already on a maintenance dose of Invega and know that I can’t get off of it or I’ll have seizures/ brain damage/ severe depression if I get off of it, and will probably die 20-40 years earlier than I should. Yes I’m living with my family but boo hoo, guess America’s giant shot in the *** (internet etc…) is worse than a few harmless psychotic episodes. I hope there is a God so I can tell him to go **** himself for taking people’s freedoms away and harming people who’ve never been put in a mental hospital.
These places take patients who are in a vulnerable state and take advantage of their incarceration . I was admitted with an apparent overdose, and my tox screen was completely clean. I was forced to take mind numbing drugs that put me into a constant state of apathy and lack of awareness to everything around me. When the doctors couldn’t find anything in my blood or urine, they.made up stories about how I ended up in Providence. The shrinks were verbally abusive and I often caught them falsifying the details of our conversations. It was the worst experience of my life. The nurses force-fed us. I still have severe nightmares. They fabricated diagnosis to cover up their inability to properly assess his patients and use facts AND clues to make reasonable hypothesis. That’s why an attempted murderer is out walking the streets, hunting, fishing,playing with his chick-magnet dog and hitting on his patients. That sounds like justice.
Is Todd allowed to have sex with the other guy he has fallen for or is that guy taken to another room or a hint of sex and both are tested instantly for a STD?
Glad you got the help. I myself was in psych ward at the hospital here in Granite City. Thankful I got the help and awesome blog you wrote and kept my attention
Yes the era has come dear world in-where a man cannot defend himself in the realms of his own mind, very sad.
The truth is that the term “Insanity” was made by man to name an illness that could not be proven and would cover the evilness of man. It is your job to now tell everyone the truth. The world is suffering we are all victims of the abuse of a supposed chemical imbalance in the brain that has a reputation. Evident from all the psychiatric wards that are filled with innocent victims that we as a society are made to be afraid of. please spread the clear message today OR allow evil to win it is up to you. THANKS
Kind Regards Lisa-Marie Enaaja
I cried when I read your post.. thank you for sharing, letting others know what it is like.
Take care.
My name is Lydia. I am 17 years old and I am diagnosed with bipolar disorder, A.D.D., O.D.D., I.E.D., and manic depression. I have been institutionalized a total of 4 times since I was 11. The first time was for blacking out and threatening to stab someone (I was then diagnosed with Bipolar disorder and IED). The second time was when I was 12 and it was for getting into a fight at school with a boy, and instead of punishing me like a normal child, they had me locked up again. The 3rd time was when I was 13 and it was for suicidal thoughts; I told my mom that I felt like just dying. And the 4th and final time was when I was 15, I had just went through some major family problems, I was being called a whore and a home wrecker every day, so I went in my room and slit my wrists/arm in a straight line from my wrist to the bend of your arm. My mom found me and had me admitted. The hospital then told me that if I get institutionalized one more time that they were going to send me to a boys and girls home till I was 18. I have always refused medication, or psychiatric help. And now I am 17 years old and I function normally in society, most of the time. The only time someone knows I’m a bit “crazy” is when someone pisses me off haha. I’m quick to scream and argue with someone. Personally I loved going to the hospitals. They were like a vacation for me. You’re surrounded by people your age who are just as screwed as you are, it feels like home. The staff is nice for the most part and the food is REALLY good. Plus, you get to watch a movie every night while you hang out with all the other people your age. I’d have to say the only sad thing about being in the Youth Department is seeing children. There are not only teens in there, I’ve seen kids as young as 5 in there. I once met a 7 year old who had a bit of a problem with fire lol. He had set 2 of his families homes on fire (accidentally from playing with fire). I’ve met a wide variety of people thanks to those places. One girl, who ended up being MY roommate, was in there for cutting herself and using her blood to paint with. She was a little nuts lol but still HUMAN. Just because we are not what society deems “normal” doesn’t me we are some kind of alien or monster. We have issues and most of the time it’s due to family problems. All in all it’s nice to have a place like this to go to when you just need a break from society, and to collect yourself.
my dear crazy people, you have no idea what means a day in a hospital under the influence of 800mg solian/day. who really wants to understand this – should try. the others – ignore this post.
I would just like to say that my experience in an in-patient mental hospital was very different. I was admitted and diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, bipolar, depression, and anxiety. I saw the doctor once every day and he asked me the same questions, “Do you still want to hurt yourself?” Why would my feelings have changed? All I did every day was sit at a table in the center of a huge white room and I wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone, I was only allowed to sit there by myself and listen to the people around me. I didn’t get help, the only reason I was able to leave was because I lied my way out of there.
Aw this comment breaks my heart. Im a mental health tech at a behavioral hospital. Not allowed to talk to anyone? Wtf place was this? We would never let shit like this go down. 😞 We treat our pts with respect at my hospital. We have sever violent pts, rehab, geri and kids. All separate of course. We are equal to our pts and learn from them to, you meet awesome ppl daily. Yeah one or 2 may snap and become a danger to themselves or others, if we cant de-escalate this pt we gotta take him down, no other choice. But after a lil bit we talk it out and assure the pt we arnt upset, and to not be mad at us, then boom were all friends laughing again! So sorry you had this experience. Its not right. They can’t treat ppl this way 😞
I was in a mental hospital once and I can say that there is zero coffee, weak or otherwise. Also, it wasn’t that bad… in fact the other paitents were very nice.
My stay was a great deal different I went in BC of depression suicide attempts and alcohol recovery it was hell the first couple days and I was 16 and terrified there was men in there that was truly insane and did nothing but scream cuss and be violent I don’t talk about my stay in a hospital but the person who wrote this is very brave and there really is nothing to be ashamed of if u went u went to better your self and the takes courage
Not only are conditions dramatically different from place to place (fresh air? wifi? bowling? really?), but individual experiences even at one place vary as well. Read 26 google reviews of Holly Hill rating it an average of 1.8/5.
I’d love to hear how many people saw a therapist during a stay at short term psychiatric ward/hospital. One private ward I visited rarely had one present nor even a private spot for a brief chat with the psychiatric resident.
4 years ago I was confined in a psychiatric hospital that was pretty good and I was diagnosed with anorexia, bipolar disorder and anxiety. I was thrown into the hospital because I tried to commit suicide. There was pretty good, rules were easy to follow (kinda similar but not as strict like we can have physical contact) and I met this super cute boy who is my boyfriend right now. I didn’t eat, I just drank water, tea and coke. Then things started to get romantic(LOL NOT) and a nurse asked the boy to make me eat. That worked for a while then I started to skip meals again. The boy fed me (he really did) and it made my heart melt throughoutly. I couldn’t reject him. Then after I stopped eating the food he fed me, the nurse attached this tube and I started ‘eating’ liquid food and of course I couldn’t pull it out, duh. Then a few weeks later I cut myself and I was strapped to my damn bed. I was attached to an IV and a tube by that time cause I couldn’t drink. I was also in diapers cause they didn’t let me go to the bathroom. Every time I pull out my IV the boy sobs next to me. It made me stop pulling out my IV… and so the mental hospital let me go. YAY
The love story thing can happen, except the guy will proposition you for sex and when you say no, be ready to somehow end up in solitary confinement with a shot of Ativan.
As a teenager I encountered the horrors that my friends had to go through isolated, in some cases for their whole lives in neglectful conditions, against their will. Un-hygienic conditions; Bad staff conduct; Inconvenient visiting hours: Lack of resources: Lack of freedom; Lack of administration facilities between their friends, family and even staff/legal representatives that should be looking over them. Many patients that I met whilst visiting friends reported several incidents of staff being rude to them and neglectful. It was obvious that the conditions were very bad for their health, such as: unhealthy food; un-hygienic; lack of access to fresh air and preferable living temperatures; forced to live in very approximation on a daily basis with ward mates that they didn’t like and that had serious mental health conditions. They were also not allowed any personal possessions that could be used in any harm to themselves or others.
Did anyone else notice that at 7:10am, the author had brushed their teeth and hair, made their bed and put on a sweatshirt but 5 minutes later at 7:15am they were “dragging their exhausted body out of bed”?
Actually, the truth about being locked up in a psychiatric hospital is literal HELL. It’s like being in jail. Maybe some of these visits for people are easy, but in my experiences and with my illess it has been torturing. I’ve been hospitalized 8 times, 6 of them in the last 6 years. I was diagnosed with bipolar 1 disorder. My hospitalizations have been for manic psychotic episodes. I’ve been shot with a taser gun(causing a commotion but not threatening anyone) handcuffed and strapped down to beds until you go to sleep(because I tried to escape out a door of the hospital, and another time when some other patients and I were causing a commotion, and again not threatening other people), and drugged up so you feel like a zombie. In bipolar manic episodes you have a lot of energy, your stuck inside your head, racing thoughts, hearing voices, delusional, paranoid, following an alternate reality, and you don’t sleep much. That’s hell enough! And when I’m hospitalized, I’m finally so tired and able to sleep, but the first couple nights nurses are coming in your room and waking you up every hour from a deep sleep to take your vitals. They deprive you of sleep, and actually it’s a real act of torture. I’ve been put with roommates who snore loudly, they talk out loud in their sleep. When they go to the bathroom they urinate all over the toilet seat and the floor. So disgusting! Half of the staff in the facilities are rude, and treat you like you’re nothing. The days are so boring and so long in these confinements. I’m agitated all day from the drugs, the feeling of being stuck inside your skin, and it doesn’t end. I struggle to get through the groups you have to attend at least twice a day. Then only sleep a few hours at night with insomnia, and they won’t give you anything to help you sleep. The only good thing that takes place in the hospital is we get fed three times a day, and the food is pretty good. The bad part of that is you gain about 15 pounds because you’re so inactive. You have to say the right things to the doctors and the staff, or they’ll keep you in there longer. My longest visit in the hospital was 3 weeks of hell. That happened twice. Our health system needs to provide a much more HUMANE environment, where the patients are given more freedom and space indoors and outdoors, to heal, instead of being treated like animals. Such a wicked world we live in, with these wicked mental wards they put us in. Lord help us!!!
You left out the part where the piece-of-shit, subhuman techs stole all of your jewelry and expensive clothes (that they explicitly asked your family to provide to you) and threatened your life to keep you quiet. You also forgot to mention how that schizo patient got the living shit beat out of her when they took her away, and also got her life threatened to keep her quiet.
You’re right: mental health PATIENTS do not, in any way, deserve the stigma that they get. Mental health WORKERS (or “professionals,” if you’re feeling generous) however, deserve their own stigma as well as a slow, miserable death. They are burnouts and cowards who seek out employment in fields that involve working with vulnerable people so that they can feel powerful and take what they want with NO accountability whatsoever. This true of EVERY mental health institution as well as most nursing homes and some hospitals.
The real psychos are the orderlies, nurses, and techs, not their patients, and someone in this rat hole country needs to speak up about it.
My experience in a mental hospital was far more negative than the one described at Holly Hill. BUT I have to say that all the psychiatric aids (PAs) were caring, compassionate people. Most of the nurses and all of the doctors didn’t care a fig about anything except keeping patients quiet with meds.
Thanks for sharing such an informational blog about the routine in the mental hospital,it will be very helpful to the other people also.The information is really beneficial.
How I wish I’d been to Holly Hill after my suicide attempt. Brunswick Hospital in Suffolk County New York was all about dispensing pills–no compassionate psychiatrist and lots of people who really were suffering from serious mental illnesses.
First of all I would like to say that everyone’s experience is different. I went into a mental hospital because I was delusional and experiencing psychosis. My day was nothing like this. The schedule is appropriate but the incidents sound made up and way too specific. I have recollection of my first time in the mental hospital and it was nothing short of a confined place where we could not harm others and were suppressed with psychotic medications. I hardly slept, if at all, had trouble sharing a room with 5 other women, thought it was dirty and quite disgusting, and lastly I strongly feel that the way treatment works should be changed. I don’t think psychiatric facilities should allow co-ed treatment. It’s been two years since I’ve been in the mental hospital and well I don’t remember anything I remember most days. Those days were more depressing than anytime before or after being admitted and released from the hospital. Now that I have seen an expert therapist who is way more knowledgeable than my psychiatrist about disorders and depression, I have been off of medication and seeking treatment that is more natural and sustainable for my life. There is so much I want to say but I will end on an encouraging note. If anyone is struggling with depression I’m here to tell you that the only one that can pull yourself out of this rut is you, I waited so long for someone to rescue me from my problems, someone to tell me they knew exactly what I wanted to hear, someone to listen. I had some of those things but now I realize no one will ever know what I went through firsthand except me. Please stay strong and know that God is there for you and will get you through the toughest and darkest times of your life. Also the best therapy if you can’t afford extensive treatment can simply be to call someone who cares and talks about it. Time for me to sleep but I just wanted to share my perspective.
I almost was sent to a mental hospital I was scared.
I work in a psych facility. One for short term care for people brought in on 5150 holds. It’s always interesting to read about the patient’s view on things and how the routine is at other facilities. Thank you for sharing.
I went to mental hospital in 1997.since then I have been homeless and on welfare.for me it was the beginning of the end.
People here complaining about suffering from “stress” and “anxiety” clearly have no idea of what REAL mental illness consists of.
“Mental hospitals” with “normal” people are not mental hospitals at all. Real mental patients are individuals who are incapable of functioning physically, let alone mentally. I shadowed a psychiatrist for a few days, and the mental patients I’ve encountered were individuals with severe mental disabilities. We’re talking head jerking, slurred speech, and psycho-motor stupor. Real mental patients are ones who wake up at the bell and run down the hall spraying their bodily fluids all over the place. Real mental patients are ones who stare away into space as they drool from their mouths. These are real mental patients. Not the fairy tale of “mental suffering” you claim to be a victim of. Those stereotypes you seen in movies of “crazies” are exactly the kind of people who need to be in mental hospitals, not laypeople who have normal lives and regular jobs. If you are sane enough to be able to walk into a psychiatric facility with your own free will, then you are not mental. Period.
The writer of this article would shit themselves if they came face to face with an actual mental patient. Individuals who require psychiatric hospitalization are the ones that are incapable of functioning in society to any extent, and those who pose a threat to both themselves and others.
And for the record, yes I want to become a psychiatrist. I want to become a doctor who diagnoses and treats real diseases like autism, schizophrenia, catatonia, intellectual and developmental disabilities, sexual hysteria, and psychosis. Not some social worker who can you cry on his shoulder after a rough day at the factory. Give me a break.
I’ve volunteered with both autistic and retarded adolescents who’s greatest dream was to be able to hold a normal conversation with someone. That is real mental illness. You have no idea what’s it like to be a mental vegetable trapped in a challenged brain, one incapable of processed thinking or cognitive normality. You come in with your anxiety and stress issues, and think you can call yourself “mentally ill”. Be grateful you even have the capacity to read this entire comment. If you don’t, then you have a problem. An actual one.
No matter what you are going through, always remember that your problems are minuscule to that of true mental patients. Everyone in this comment section claims psychiatric treatment to be “cruel” and “evil”, and this is precisely because this kind of treatment is designed for the worst of the worst, and only for the most diseased minds that occupy our planet. It’s like you are asking a surgeon to put a Band-Aid on a tiny cut.
If you can talk normally, walk in a straight line, see and hear with precision, and are aware of your own existence, you are in the 99% of the normal population – and hence have nothing to worry about. You are normal. There is nothing wrong with you. Be thankful you do not have a mental deformity, and that you can process reality for what it is. Go whine to a psychologist/social worker/counselor/therapist about your troubles. Keep your social issues out of psychiatry.
My experience in two different mental hospitals here has been totally different. The worst thing is not really needing to be there in the first place. Both places had patient checks every 15 minutes. They would line us up to go to meals at one place. At the other, those of us on involuntary holds weren’t allowed out of the building so our meals were brought to us in styrofoam containers (cold). We were expected to go to classes virtually every hour. Our rooms were locked during those times. The phones were only allowed to be used outside of class hours. We were given notebooks and tiny rubber pens to take notes in and with. Some of the staff were there because they really cared about the patients and others because it was a job and they got their kicks out of bossing us around. The worst thing was the fact that we were treated like criminals. We were subjected to two evaluations by designated examiners (appointed by the court). If we got a positive then we were deemed to be either a danger to ourselves (suicidal) to others (homicidal), or gravely disabled and couldn’t leave. If that happened a second time then we were taken to court by a sheriffs deputy handcuffed and shackled. If the judge found us still to be a danger then we would get a letter from the Department of Health and Welfare telling us that we would be sent to either one of the two state hospitals until further notice. If we got a negative from the designated examiner then we would be released and allowed to go home. The mental institutions were only there to stabilize us so that we wouldn’t go back out to the outside world and commit suicide not to help us get better or to solve our psychiatric problems. All in all a horrible experience. The worst part about both hospitals was the not knowing what the DEs were going to do.
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