Yesterday I met with my "tribe" of members of the Raleigh Chapter of American Pilgrims on the Camino https://www.facebook.com/groups/199622577531678/. Thirty of us took the annual five-mile sunflower walk at the Dorothea Dix Park. This is the third time I've done a Saturday hike with the group and each time I've met different people; every time they've been welcoming and given me so much helpful information about walking the Camino.
It's bittersweet for me to go out to the grounds of this park, which used to be a state mental hospital that served central North Carolina from 1856 - 2012. I was employed as a psychiatric nurse on the Adolescent Admissions Unit for eight months in 1980. It was my foray into working in inpatient psychiatry on a locked unit. Before working at Dix, my husband and I had spent a year as House Parents for emotionally disturbed children. That year had only partially prepared me for the complexity of that inpatient unit. It was a testing and training ground and ultimately, I wasn't scared away but drawn to work in mental health.
Our unit was on the fifth floor of the McBryde Building. When I joined the Camino hiking group in front of the All Faiths Chapel, I saw McBryde for the first time since I left in August of 1980.
I didn't know then that Dorothea Dix would close its doors in 2012. My memory was of seeing older patients, who'd been institutionalized there--some for many years, walking about the grounds that were beautiful with old trees and rolling, grassy hills.
After leaving my work on the Adolescent Unit, I later worked on a research unit in Columbia, South Carolina. It was part of the "deinstitutionalization" movement of South Carolina State Hospital--which was like Dorothea Dix Hospital--that used to be called "asylums." We were charged with helping those patients, who'd been held in "back wards of state institutions," get back into the community. In retrospect, some of those patients probably did better and others did worse; they'd lost the familiar--for good or bad or both. I wonder how many of them became homeless or were rejected again by their families and home communities.
Against that backdrop of personal history, I walked the five miles with new companions around the Dix grounds and through the sunflower garden. We passed the Dorothea Dix cemetery where some patients had been buried. One of the women in our group commented, "That's like a Potter's Field," she said, referring to that place of mention in Matthew 27:7, where potter's dug for clay and left trenches and holes for the burial of strangers. To think of those patients living their lives at "Dix Hill," as it was referred to when I was a child, and not having a home community cemetery to be laid to rest in, made me feel sad.
I watched the Saturday morning crowd, walking in family groups among the plants, which weren't so big this year due to dry weather. Nearby was a shaded pine grove with hammocks and picnic tables. We passed other hikers and along the paved lanes were bikers. People seemed happy to enjoy the park as the rain held off and the humidity climbed. I remained in conversation with my walking companions but all around me could feel the ghosts of Dix. In my mind's eye, I saw the displaced patients, their faces weary, in contrast to the smiles and shrills of the children enjoying their summer weekend.
When we completed our hike, I drove around the grounds and saw the small empty brick homes where some of the staff once lived. They'd done a great job of renovating three 100-year-old buildings that "all held significance as the entry point for the then landmark mental health hospital" including the Superintendent's House, Physician's House and Gatekeeper's Cottage per an ABC TV 11 article by Tamara Scott, May 31, 24. She goes on to report that Bill Ross, the Board Chair for the Dix Park Conservancy, said the renovation was a well thought out design. "The place has such an important history in mental health, and now it has an important history in mental health in a different way, and we're trying to honor both the past and celebrate the future."
I realize now that I was part of the past of Dorothea Dix, giving my best as a twenty-five-year old nurse who was both energized and overwhelmed by the enormity of the job. I look back at all the changes in mental health services since I left that position almost forty-four years ago. We know that if there's one thing for certain, things will change. It's true for hospitals and for every other aspect of life. I look at all the changes in my life since I worked in McBryde building: circles of friends, building of a family, loss of family members, professional positions, places I've traveled etc.
And now, I look at my new-found friends in my Camino Tribe and our companionable hike. I shared stories of working at Dix so long ago, and they shared recent experiences of hiking the Camino, providing helpful tips to make my way more smooth. It was a reminder that life is dynamic and we do our best in each moment so we can live to the fullest.
Wishing you the best on this summer day,
Connie
No comments:
Post a Comment