First Full Day

First Full Day
Yesterday we had an opening ceremony; politicians, doctors in the governmental administrative hierarchy, hospital staff, 3HO staff, patients and their families; about 300 people in all. I sit at the front dais as the Clinical Director of the new program being opened, but I don’t have a speaking role. It’s kind of nice, kind of predictable, kind of political. A group of student nurses put on a skit about drug addiction with the representative from our hospital being called to their school to talk with them about drug usage. It ends with all the druggies (female nurses in training all dressed in drag as male addicts) in the skit taking a pledge to not use drugs again. It’s pretty funny. They seem to be enjoying themselves. I’m keeping an eye on our patients to be. They are smiling, mostly. There are also some patients from the “back of the hospital”, not our program, long term mentally ill, abandoned by their families long ago (mostly). They sing several spiritual songs (kirtan) and the national anthem, in which they are joined by the entire audience, except the Westerners. It is hard to get them to leave the “stage” They want to keep singing. I want to keep applauding.

The dignitaries and 3HO staff adjourn to the administrative building for lunch. We are asked to ride in a car provided even though is only 50 yards away. It is very ceremonial. I am surprised we are not asked to ride a horse away from the opening ceremony. Some in the administrative hierarchy see us as a real hope for the horrible drug abuse problem in Northern India. Some think we are religious fanatics, spiritualists, unscientific. After lunch, I sit by an administrative MD from the state capital, Chandigarh. I am seriously quizzed about our program components. I feel like I am undergoing an oral exam. I feel that I do pretty well in answering his questions about the scientific grounding of our program. At the end, as I shake his hand, I say something to the effect of, “I hope I have represented myself well in your examination.” He laughs and claps me on the shoulder. I laugh and place my hand on his heart.

Anyway, that was yesterday. Today, I want to go home. This was as hard a day as I can remember in recent years. It takes forever to do anything here. For example, the hospital has promised us a massage therapist to help the patients with the aches and pains of coming of drugs. Today the director assures us that the therapist will report for work tomorrow (Wednesday). In the course of the conversation, we learn that this person knows nothing of massage. They have been volunteered to learn. We have been volunteered to train. When we give patients their herbs, helping in the detoxification process, we tell them to get a glass and fill it with water to take their pills. They comply, but in the process (after they have taken their pills), we learn that the water is off and have had to get it from the back tank of their toilets. Other things adding to my current stress and aggravation: Somehow, we had a patient enter the program we had never interviewed and was never admitted to the program. On Monday, he somehow just was there. Fortunately, after we had figured out that he didn’t belong, but before we could get him out, he was gone. Drugs and weapons were found on the unit, again. (I don’t know if you’ve ever done a room search in an Indian psychiatric hospital, but it’s not for the faint of heart.) We discharged 5 of our 14 patients for a variety of reasons; mostly these guys didn’t want to be here, psychosis, and etc. Working with translators (not professionals, all volunteers, god bless them) is driving me nuts. I just want them to say what I say. But they don’t have the vocabulary or try to make it culturally relevant or have their own agenda…

Anyway, there’s much more, but I’m just venting. The 8 guys we have left are working very well. They are now brighter, alert, eager participants; grateful that the thugs and ‘crazies‘ have been discharged.

Tonight I’m scheduling volunteers to translate, working with counselors to assign caseloads, hoping to get to the intake documentation tomorrow with the Indian psychologist, Saboud Kumar. I am very, very tired.