The Swallowing Games
Image credit: Microsoft Clip Art
People are like roadkill. You encounter disturbing masses daily but they rarely form lasting impressions. Every now and then, however, a squashed squirrel or demolished deer or flattened fox proves so memorable, you can’t shake the mental image.
Thus was my experience with Swallows,* whose name will make sense in a moment, and whose memory recently resurfaced during my daily ritual of “I’ll get that damn calcium tablet down my throat if it kills me.” Not a good pill taker am I.
Picture me circa early 1990s, permed hair forgotten, shoulder pads retired, teeth still crooked (no braces until age 33, remember?), a lowly student in training. Now travel with me as we board a rickety bus with the rest of the young’uns and drive to the forensic psychiatry inpatient unit, home to killers, rapists, and armed robbers mentally unfit for prison. Yes, class, that’s where we’re headed today.
Image credit: Microsoft Clip Art
Although we white-coated munchkins receive counseling on what we might see, nothing quite beats reality: Institutional, kitcheny scent; unadorned white walls; barred windows; glossy, heel-scuffed floors. Oh, and look, peeking around the corner is Sharpy. We’re told he stabbed his friend with a butcher’s knife. Twice. And over there is Jesus. Well, sometimes he’s Tonto, and sometimes he’s Elvis, but today he’s Jesus. We take this as a good sign, no?
But the real treat comes when we’re divided into groups, each unit of four to observe a psychiatric session with one of the patients. Mine, and by default yours, will be with Swallows.
Swallows is very honest. When asked by the psychiatrist to reveal why he’s in the institution, he tells us he killed his mother. He says this with a giggle and a shy glance at his audience, now frozen in our seats like wide-eyed cake pops.
Image credit: etsy.com
We then go on to learn that during his long battle with mental illness, Swallows has devoured hundreds of different items, many of which pass through, but many of which don’t, prompting surgical removal on twenty-eight different occasions. In case we don’t believe him, Swallows lifts his shirt and reveals a scrawny, diffusely pink- and white-scarred belly. One of the cake pops murmurs.
The unfazed psychiatrist describes a list of the obstructing objects, ticking them off his fingers as if trying to count them all: A couple of spoons, a small hairbrush, a toy airplane, plastic containers, batteries, rolls of coins, and numerous sharp objects like nails and open safety pins not safe to pass through on their own. And then the good doctor pauses, smiles, and waits until Swallows catches on and grins back. “Tell them, Doc. Go ahead.”
So Dr. Seen-It-All tells us a tale of one of his earliest interviews with Swallows. By that time, the staff had wised up to the deep-throated fellow and kept everything bolted down, locked up, or out of reach. No personal grooming items allowed unattended. Food only by finger or mouth. Television viewing without remote. But on this early occasion, Dr. Seen-It-All made a grave mistake. After all, the session was long; he was getting nowhere; Swallows was uncooperative. Defeated, Dr. Seen-It-All removed his eyeglasses, set them on the table, and rubbed his weary eyes.
Oops.
The doctor looked up in time to see the wire-rimmed frames disappear behind chomping lips, Swallows’s esophagus working overtime, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down like a coked-up Russian dancer.
Image credit: thedepotcafe.com
After telling the story, Dr. Seen-It-All and Swallows share a good laugh. The cake pops exchange nervous glances.
The eyeglasses required removal—surgery number twenty-five or twenty-six—leaving only a fun tale for Dr. Seen-It-All and his patient to tell. I don’t know how long Swallows remained institutionalized, but clearly he’s not been forgotten. And although his story offers humor, his life was sad, and we cake pops can certainly see that. Which means this post started out funny and ended up gloomy.
But although our field trip has ended, I refuse to leave readers in a melancholy state. So for your enjoyment, I will add one final tidbit. Luckily for Swallows, Dr. Seen-It-All’s glasses were small and compact. If Swallows had chosen to sample the ginormous frames I once donned in the eighties, those babies would have never gone down so smoothly…
Exchange the color for red and subtract the coke-bottle lenses (though that may no longer be the case), and you get an idea of my specs in the 80s. Talk about roadkill...(Image credit: Microsoft Clip Art)
What about you? Anybody from the past still on your mind despite only one encounter?
*Names of all individuals are my own creation, and some facts have been distorted for protective purposes.
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91 Responses to “The Swallowing Games”
Wow that’s quite an unforgettable person. I did meet the Naked Cowboy once in midtown and that left an indelible impression on me.
My sister just met him in New York a few weeks ago. She got a picture with him where she’s squeezing his cheek. And I think you know which cheek I mean…
LOL. I’m guessing the lower one?
You guessed correctly. Obviously, she is not an introvert like me…
This guy sounds like Harpo Marx. Lotsa weird stuff in the psychiatric wards. I used to tell my co-workers that if the clients were easy, then they wouldn’t be clients.
I like that advise! I guess there would be no need for psychiatrists if everyone was balanced and centered.
Thanks for dropping by!
I started (but didn’t finish) a country-western song that has this hook: If I really was crazy, I’d be the last to know.
Logical lyrics.
I think I’m going to have nightmares about a guy named Swallows. He’s going to be chasing me I’m sure. EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
As long as you’re not wearing anything he can swallow, you should be okay.
Thanks for dropping by!
Let me hide my glasses
I did spend some time in a PH when I was young and met a few Mrs. swallows. I spent some time imagining the digestion over the hours, it does fill in time. I think of the Swallows as private therapy.
Being on the other end of it, when I was an intern, I did get to take a few things out…I don’t go into detail, you might be eating, drinking, breathing. Shuddres.
Yes, it’s never very pretty when it comes out, is it? Either naturally or through surgery… And most definitely, meeting people like Swallows helps me appreciate what I’ve got.
Thanks so much for stopping by. Always love seeing a new face!
I really enjoy your blog, and your writing style.
Thank you!
Love the dog photo! And your intro, hilarious! Thank you for sharing.
Pink.
Thanks! I originally had an actual photo of me from the 80s wearing the awful red glasses, but I just couldn’t post it. Had to go with the doggie instead.
Excellent! On top of your game on this one. HF
Well, thank you! I appreciate that.
One or two memorable chance encounters that you can never forget? My lips are sealed…
And for that, you are a wise woman…
Thanks for dropping by.
While I can’t come up with an answer for this question, I love that you ask us questions at the end of your posts – first you entertain us, then you make us think. A great combination to keep the brain fresh!
Well, by asking you a question, I can distract you from my post, thus hopefully warding off any thoughts of “what in the world is wrong with this woman?”
Thanks for stopping by. Always enjoy seeing your sunny bildseite (did I get that word right? I was going for your sunny face, because that’s what your cute Gravatar always makes me think of.) I hope you are whipping those German gym goers into shape!
Face = Gesicht (Bildseite is more for the face of a coin)
I’m certainly doing my best for the gym-goers – I’ve learned a lot already!
Thanks for the German translation–I’d hate to refer to you as a sunny coin!
I have to remember not to be drinking tea and reading your blog at the same time. Disaster awaits every post. At the very least, tissues should be mandatary before entery to dab at the spills. I’m still envisioning Swallows getting out the little things he may have swallowed during his professional swallowing career. It may still be going on. Oh dear….
Yes, I’m sure his lifestyle resulted in some interesting, er, shall we say, plumbing problems. And once again I have deteriorated into scatological humor…
Thanks so much for visiting, and please don’t short circuit your keyboard from spilled tea on my behalf.
Carrie, when I was an undergraduate student (over two decades ago…), I worked at the local psychiatric hospital during the summer. My job was in ‘clinical records’ and I spent most of my days filing slips of paper in patient charts. When I got bored, I went down to the archives and spent the afternoon reading case files. Absolutely fascinating stuff! Imagine my surprise when one afternoon I came across the file of a woman with a very unique last name, the same unique last name of a guy I had been dating on an off. Low and behold, it was his sister and he featured quite prominently in her sessions with the psychiatrist. Needless to say, I ended that relationship pretty quickly; he was to blame for her psychosis, among other things!
Oh, my, talk about an eye-opener. Only thing worse would have been to stumble upon a chart with his name on it and discover he was a homicidal maniac.
Of course, nowadays, the ability to scan other peoples’ charts is no longer an option unless one is involved in their care. Or at least it’s not supposed to be, but I suspect there are still individuals that do–like those who read the charts of celebrities.
Thanks for stopping by and commenting!
Ew! I’m glad Swallows was locked up! He’s worse than my dog.
Then again, think of how clean your floors and counters would be with Swallows around…
Haha! I’ll stick to Swiffer.
In many ways, HIPPA has taken the fun out of healthcare…ohh the stories I could tell…but not online
Oh, no doubt. And if this wasn’t so many years ago, and I hadn’t blended the details, I never would have written this. Although one might conclude otherwise, I pride myself on my ethics.
That being said, I was surprised to see a book in the bookstore recently written by three physicians which was basically a collection of abdominal xrays showing the various items people had placed where the sun don’t shine, if you get my drift. They provided a few details with each case. You would think one might be able to recognize himself in the book, depending on what he put up there…
It’s ok if you can recognize yourself, it’s not if anyone else can….my wife worked with a bunch of nurses who had worked in the San Francisco area, and they would try to top each other with stories of what people had come into the ER lodged in themselves…it’s either laugh, cry or vomit, pick one!…or two!
Can you imagine–”Hey honey, look, I’m in this new book. That’s my xray right there! Oh that? Well, that’s a Mountain Dew bottle…”
Hey Honey! Remember that antique vase that disappeared back in the late 90′s, and you always thought it was stolen? well….here, look at this new coffee table book i just bought…this should explain things a little, but it may raise a few questions too
Right before I did my student teaching, I volunteered in several classes at the school, one of which was my mother’s kindergarten class. Before lunch, we began to smell the foul odor of someone who did not make it to the bathroom. We walked around and by reason of smelly deduction, singled out the table where the child was sitting and inquired of a small, almost delicate young boy if he needed to go to the bathroom.
“No,” he answered honestly. (At this point, he thought there was no need to go to the bathroom.)
My mother gently pulled him aside and asked if he’d pooped in his pants. With wide eyes, he thought a minute and then said, “Mrs. Hall I don’t know if there’s any poop in my pants, but if there is, I didn’t do it.”
I don’t know where this young man is today, but I’d say that’s a good start for the career of a politician. Deny, deny, deny.
How’s that for sharing? Sandy
Oh, you know a little scatalogical humor always warms my heart.
You gotta hand it to that kid. Anyone who can deny so definitively when the evidence is right there is certainly destined for something. And politics is probably just the right place!
By the way, loved the “smelly deduction” phrase. I can picture you walking around the room using your sniffer to find the culprit.
I’m one of those people who draws a complete blank when asked such a straightforward question. No one is coming to mind. But undoubtedly I’ll think of someone in the middle of the night—a month from now!
I could NEVER have been one of you cake pops!
Come to think of it, cake pops was probably not a smart analogy. Swallows would have just eaten us…
Your post reminded me of Slingblade’s Karl Childers, “I reckon, uh huh.”
And it also reminded me of a sanity hearing where I was subpenaed to testify. The “walker,” as he was nicknamed, walked heavily trafficked streets (streets without sidewalks), but avoided social interaction with people. An attractive young man in his early twenties with beautiful curly blonde hair, he would make people uncomfortable by following them around our building and staring at them, particularly women. He never displayed any signs of violence or aggression toward them, but his behavior and silence was cause for alarm by some of the public.
On one occasion he followed me from outside our building, into the public building, down a set of stairs and into the women’s restroom. When I confronted him, he left the restroom without saying a word. My heart was thumping like crazy and I admit that it was spooky. At first I worried about my own safety and then I worried about this young man’s safety – if an angry boyfriend or husband decided to “put a stop to this following!”
Long story short (well, not too short it would seem) I told my superiors of my experience, who passed it along to the authorities, who passed it along to his guardians, who were trying to get the young man committed so that he could get help. My superiors suggested that I take someone with me for “support” – like you found out, getting into the psyche ward itself is intimidating.
At the time Mot was working as a 911 dispatcher and chose to accompany me to the hearing – straight from getting off his 11pm – 7am shift. Mot was in his official looking uniform and the gate keeper asked Mot if he had any weapons on him. Without skipping a beat, Mot replied straight faced, “My entire body is a weapon.” (Think Barney Fife.) Mot and I both yucked it up, but the unamused gate keeper just buzzed us in without a word. After the door slammed behind us, we whispered to each other that perhaps we should keep a lid on the jokes. We didn’t want to give them reason to keep us there.
I answered the questions asked of me and held my breath until we walked out into the street again. It was a sobering experience that I hope never to repeat. We heard that the young man was committed for a short period of time, but we never saw him again walking the streets. I sincerely hope the young man found peace and a safe place to be.
That’s really sad–and scary. How creepy to follow you into the bathroom. But I love your husband’s humor. You would think the gatekeeper would welcome a little humor in that job.
I haven’t thought of the movie “Slingblade” in so long. That was a great movie. I should watch it again.
Thanks for stopping by and sharing your story. BTW, I added you to my blogroll but hope I put you in the right category: blogs on writing but also life in general.
You may place me into whichever category suits your fancy. I’m tickled silly to be included. Period. Thank you.
Well, you wrote a post once on constipation. Anybody who works poo into a post automatically goes on my list.
This is frightening! The exchange between the two of them sounds like quite a sight to see, “Tell them, Doc.” I feel like I am right there – frozen with cake pop eyes. Great description!
Thank you! You may now eat your cake pop. I know you want to…
You know I do! And those on your post look yummy!
The answer is “yes,” so much so, that you may have inspired a blog! Thanks for a great read…fun and insightful as always. =)
Oh, good! You know I can’t wait to read it. Hopefully you didn’t pour a drink on this particular individual…
hmmm.. interesting. I’d love to see the radiographs.
Single meeting memory…um.. erm.. wow. nothing..oh wait. I once had a one night stand on Wianapanapa State Park black sand beach on Maui with a guy who looked just like Vladimir Ilyich Lenin. There were ants.
Ahh, the joys of blogging anonymously and thus, the stories you get to share.
I bet you had some nice welts after that experience. Nothing an xray could capture though…
Wow, I can’t think of any gross or freaky story that would top yours off! You have to give a lot of credit to anyone working in a psychiatric hospital. It’s got to burn you out pretty quickly.
By the way, did Swallows make it as a character in your book?
No, but he should have been included as a character now that you mention it.
Yes, I imagine working in psychiatry might leave one carrying a heavy load home each night.
Thanks for commenting!
There’s something terribly frightening about mental illness, something stark and unavoidable. I once met a guy who maybe wasn’t ‘crazy-crazy,’ but terrified me nonetheless.
I was in a bar in Dublin, Ireland with my then-girlfriend. The GF (who spoke a little Dutch) started talking with this group of people from Holland. This bald, burly Irish guy comes up to me and sits down. He was a little smaller than me, but still pretty big, and much tougher-looking. He asked, nicely enough, if I’m an American.
I told him that I was. We chatted for a little while, and then he told me that people often mistake him for an American. I thought that was strange, because he had a very pronounced Irish accent. He said that people often mistook him for an American outlaw biker or a Vietnam veteran (for which he would have been far too young).
Then he said, “Twas a foggy day in Vietnam.” He would repeat this line, seemingly at random throughout our conversation, which grew increasingly bitter, as he waxed nasty about immigrants and various foreigners.
After a while, he showed me his belt buckle, which had a skull and crossbones on it. “Do you know what this is?” he asked. The question was obviously very important to him.
I biffed it the first time. “It’s the skull & crossbones,” I said.
“No,” he said patiently, “Do you know what it means?”
Still completely ignorant, I said, “The Jolly Roger?”
Looking at me like I was an idiot, he said in a hushed voice, “No, it’s what the Nazis used to wear.” He then excused himself to go take a leak.
One of the Dutch dudes talking to my GF came over to me, and said something that really freaked me out. He said, “Do you know what that guy is?”
By this time I thought I did. I said, “Yeah.”
The Dutch guy said simply and chillingly, “He’s a very bad man. A very dangerous man.”
I never got a chance to find out what me meant. My GF and I were out of there before the dude came out of the bathroom. I still have his address, but something tells me this clown is either dead or in jail.
Now that is scary. Something tells me that guy would not have been allowed to roam freely in the forensic psychiatry inpatient unit. And it’s a good thing you left. Otherwise you may have found out just what exactly went down on that “foggy day in Vietnam.”
Creepy. Would make for a great short story a la Stephen King style. Thanks for dishing it.
I write a decent short story (if you can trust my unbiased opinion), but my attempts at autobiographical writing have so far been abortive.
I can’t believe that this was a school trip. Mind you, I would have really enjoyed that, but then again, I am not normal.
Well, it was graduate school, and we were in our mid-20s, but at my age now, that seems a young cake pop.
Hell, you could have mentioned that you were an ADULT…here I was thinking you were in elementary school and that your teacher needed some serious medication
Ahh, then you must think I’m younger than I actually am. I like that!
Going back and rereading my post, I can see how it might be misconstrued. I was hoping the white coats would reveal we were older, but, well, it made sense in my mind. Which is probably scary in and of itself…
It was probably me. And you do look very young. I’m not going to guess your age, because I suck at that.
It would have been even more amusing if the Dr had been wearing some of those joke Groucho Marx glasses with the nose and moustache.
It sounds like I’m making this up, but a good friend of mine from university did work experience at a similar mental institution the infamous Broadmoor (look it up on wiki) in the UK. She was one of the only females in there, and the male population were oddly “protective” of her. She got a whole bunch of art gifts made (things made of plaster or clay, and painted, that were supposed to be people but looked like something a five year old made). I would go to her house and she would show me, “This one was made by a guy who killed his parent..”, and so on. I don’t know how she did it.
“Groucho Marx glasses!” Hillarious
Of course, if the doctor had been wearing those, his own sanity may have been called into question…
I believe it. She was lucky they were protective of her. Could have been the opposite…
And those Groucho Marx glasses you describe are not too far from the ones I wore–well, minus the nose and moustache, of course (but who’s to say I didn’t have a moustache of my own?…). I was going to put an image of myself wearing them, but I took it out at the last minute. I just couldn’t face the thought of my 80s hair and those big red glasses on the Internet for all of time.
Wow! When does the movie come out?
Yes, truth really is stranger than fiction…
Is it sad that after reading this blog I really just want a cake pop?
I thought for a long time about going into forensic psychiatry, stories like these just fascinate me. I also had a 2nd cousin that was committed into one of these places, she was one of the “less psychotic” ones and her issues were really just really bad dementia. She was actually a karate instructor for a living and as the dementia set in she started to see “ninjas” (as she called them) and would try to fight them, usually injuring herself and anyone near, as well as making a mess of the room she was in. That’s the main reason she was committed, her parents were too old and frail to hold her back and keep her from injuring herself so they felt it best to have her put somewhere that she could receive care.
I visited her a few times when I was very young and the first few times I was terrified by the moaning and screaming you would hear all around. As I got used to it I used to beg my mom to take me to see her because I wanted to the progression of some of the other patients.
It’s truly sad and fascinating that some people’s brains turn on them.
Thanks for sharing!
Forensic psychiatry is fascinating, isn’t it? I thought about going into psychiatry myself, but then I realized that although the material was interesting in theory, it was only sometimes interesting in real life. The rest was a lot of depression and anxiety, and that’s a heavy load to carry home with you at the end of the day.
Thanks for sharing your story. I’m sure that was a difficult decision for her parents but obviously a necessary one.
And for the record, after I searched for a good image for my cake pop analogy, I wanted some, too. Badly.
You really are nuts! I never thought I’d meet anyone with the same sense of humour as me. There are nice nutters around!
Oh, you are spot on there. I am as nutty as they come. Life is too intense to not diffuse it with humor.
Thanks for dropping by!
As always, hilarious and insightful. Very cool you got to see that. What a learning experience.
I worked in a nursing home when I was in high school. I remember two residents, Bertha and Less. Bertha was always trying to roll away in her wheelchair at high speeds….NOT. Less was always in hot pursuit of Bertha as his goal was to take off her shirt. We aides spent a lot of time dressing Bertha back up and scolding Less while he laughed. Those memories really stick!
I’ve learned two things from your comment:
The names Bertha and Less should be retired. And apparently men never change.
I’m sure that was an eye-opener as a high school student. At least I was in my mid-20s when I met Swallows.
Thanks for dropping by and thanks for the mention on Twitter!
I enjoyed your story of Mr Swallow love the cake pops. I also thought the dancer made for a great visual. :+) Yes, there is one person that came to my mind instantly. Why? Because I was just thinking of her yesterday. I don’t remember her name and I didn’t know her very well. but I remember a short conversation we once had. Here it goes….She was compalining about somthing in her life I don’t remember what it was, but she said she had told her father the same story and her father said to her “Try Harder” That stuck with me and even lately I was complaining about how bad my grammar is and I thought about giving up blogging because of it back several months ago. I felt bad my grammar was so bad. The answer came to me yep you guessed Try Harder! So I’ve been reading Grammar Girl’s quick and dirty Tips by Mignon Fogarty she also does a pod cast. I tried taking a class on sentence structure but I don’t think that really helped much any way thats my story and I’m sticking to it. Sheesh…thats was a long comment.
This is not Twitter. You may leave as long of a comment as you want.
And I appreciate your story–”Try Harder” is a great mantra to live by. Only two words, but they say so much. And now, I will think of you when I tell myself to “try harder”, whether I’m working on a story, exercising to a tough workout DVD, or trying to keep my head from exploding when my teenager sasses me. So the link continues–one person influencing another by planting a seed in his/her head.
Lovely, Starla. Thank you! And thanks for the warm fuzzies on my cake pops and visuals.
I had a tough time with Twitter imagine 140 characters. :+)
Glad you enjoyed the story and your welcome about the warm fuzzies. It’s a good day for warm fuzzies.
Interesting how stories can be passed down and around like little spokes. Now I will include you in my thoughts of the Try Harder story. :+)
And the cycle continues…
I was a wide-eyed student once and had the ‘privilege’ of shadowing an E.R. doc who caught an attempted suicide case. She’d cut her wrists and they were preparing to stitch her up – syringe, sutures at the ready. I was watching everything from the corner of the room (trying to hide really) and suddenly the doc got called out of the room. The nurse turned to me and said “I have to go with him – watch the patient – she’s not allowed to be alone.” I’m standing in this room, a syringe on the table beside her and praying she wasn’t homicidal as well as suicidal. Not a fun day. (by the way – love the cake pops visual)
Wow, nothing like tossing you into the lion’s lair! Bet your pulse rate would’ve shattered the cardiac monitor had you been hooked up. Given that you’re still here, I’ll assume she wasn’t homicidal. Thank goodness for that! No doubt that woman has stayed in your mind.
My college roommates. Not a single one has left my mind (I moved out mid-year because of one of them). College was an eye-opening experience, and that doesn’t even count the class-taking part.
I think I missed out on a lot of the college experience by living off campus without a roommate. Granted, I lived in some very cheap, very scary places, but still, it was my preference. From what you just said, sounds like I made a wise choice.
I can see how this memory stayed with you! This is one disturbing field trip for everyone involved … kids, patients. What is the purpose?
Following your lead and ending on a lighter note … what an adorable photo
I have so many first and only memories. My entire life there have been so many people who seemed to have felt comfortable approaching and confiding in me (in real life … definitley not in internet life. ;.) But each left me with some great pondering to do and a story to tell.
Well, to be fair, we were in our mid-20s for this encounter, but that seems like a young’un to me now.
As for the dog photo, I initially put an image of me in the 80s wearing the god-awful glasses, but I just couldn’t do it. Exchanged it for the pooch.
Yes, some folks stay with us forever–the good and the bad–and I suspect we can learn from all of them.
Thanks for dropping by, Ann!
Yep, I’m slow LOL! I hoped this was a college level medical school field trip.
Outside of the glasses seems we have a lot in common…broken nose, crooked teeth (although I was never able to get braces, a regret to this day.) I’m losing my eyesight little by little now so I might catch up with you on that one soon.
Well, if you’re just losing your eyesight “little by little” then you’re way ahead of me. I went to bifocal contact lenses last year. Was a humbling day for Carrie…
Oh, and by the way, you’re never too old for braces. At least that’s what the well-off orthodontist told me.
That’s quite a challenge for us today, Carrie. Feeling a bit Mondayish, so will have to have a think … thanks for a great blog
And who says I can’t challenge the mind with my drivel?…
Good luck with your Monday, and thanks for dropping by!
I often think about this girl I hung out with for a day. She was a ski instructor and saved up all her prescription drugs for the year to sell them on the slopes. Between the drugs and instructing she brought in a six digit salary for 12 weeks of work. Man, how I think of her often.
Hmmm, she’s lucky she didn’t end up locked away like my friend Swallows. Then again, she was certainly innovative.
Thanks so much for dropping by and commenting. I appreciate it!