Bedposts

I keep coming back to this photo...I really love it! I love the composition, lighting, texture...this room seems very tangible...like I could walk right through my computer screen and be in that room and I also feel like if I were to turn around right now, I be there also! I love this shot!

"...right now. I'd be there also..."

*little correction*

how many hands in the dark of night clutched those bedpost's in fear, as their minds sink into dementia...

=8-o

Lynne, dahling, you feel nothing but calm stealing over you.

I think I feel my brain being stolen away from me . . . .

Darned aliens...I thought I told them to stick to anal probing...

;0)

I can understand that they could have clenched the bedposts in fear...not because they were mistreated or anything, but afflictions of the mental kind can be quite scary even if you are in cheery rainbow land. I know that I would be scared no matter what because I would be away from my family and may not understand what is going on, even if I were being treated like a Queen. Don't worry dear Lynne, that's probably what they meant ; )

Babs, you KNOW I love you, don'tcha? :-)

LOL Lynne, of course I do ; ) The reason that the comment came to mind is because (and I rarely share this) I suffer from anxiety, which I have pretty much controlled by medication, but when I'm in its darkest throes, I myself have actually clutched my bedposts in fear (this being in my room, surrounded by the same things I have known for a significant number of years now. I guess what scares me is, back in the day, I have a feeling I certainly could have been in one of these places. It's just scary because even having your own mother with you can't always make things feel better. That's what I was thinking of, certainly not because they were being mistreated. *falls off backward off of soapbox* *whoops* :0)

i work in a locked unit and we have many dementia pts. they do hold onto the bed rails in fear..tonight a pt came up to me grabed hold of my shoulders with a grip as if she was going to fall off a cliff.with tears in her eyes she opend her mouth as if to scream.but as hard as she could try she could not make a sound ,she was screaming in her mind but the pathway to vocalize it was gone.the sheer terror in her eyes at that moment as she looked at me ...i now belive there is a hell...i can,t even emagine haveing a pt go through something like that in a lonely steal cage.

that metal looks very cold to me

Zwheels that must have been so sad to see.......

Lynne honey are you two-timing me with Barbara?? LOL

RE; Lynne 01-06-06.

Repeat, while deep breathing, "I'm a kitten, You're a kitten"

Continue until urge to strike out is decreased.

***Got the Kitten thing from a Mike Myers interview***

I too see the affects of dementia, it is so sad, you try to comfort with kind words, but unfortunately most are unable to hear you.

This one's great, wonderful contrast.

awyper, so true, and since many people no longer recognize their own families they can't even get comfort from trusted people, because everyone becomes a stranger to them - even people they see every day. :-(

I forgot which bed was mine

Could you imagine experiencing the throes of dementia in an impersonal room with a stranger in the next bed?

If you have advanced dementia everyone is a stranger and every room is unfamiliar, even in your own home.

some dementia patients have very lucid moments; my dad suffered from dementia. It was such a joy to see his old self and utterly devastating when he relapsed. IT IS HELL!

Mott, thanks for the photo therapy! This helps me relax when I am jittery and anxious, seeing these photos is medicine in itself! When I was first brought to the state hospital by police, I was frisked and some device was ran over my body. Then I had to have an exam and then led to what would be my room for next month and half. I remember laying across the small bed, crying bitter tears. I was 44 and never been away from home for any lengh of time and having to leave my 15 year old daughter behind was more than I could bear. I finally adapted to my confinment in the best way I knew how, by writing poems and testimonials. I would lose myself in my writings. Of course they only let me use a felt marker, no pens or pencils were allowed. then I lied to my shrink that I was all better so I could go home to my child. When I got home, noone was around, as my child was staying with a relative. I went into my bathroom, grabbed the metal bath grab bar and with its ragged edge, I cut my left arm up and down until the blood started flowing into the tub drain. then I came to my senses and agonized at what I had done. I made mincemeat out of my arm and have scars to this day. I was really messed up from all those drugs that my shrink had administered to me. I was in a daze half the time I was inside the hospital, only sometimes I could enoy activities. I wished I had not lied to get out and I would not have cut myself so bad.. I still experince severe anxiety to the point I have be taken to ER by my daughter so I would not harm myself. It is a rough road to be sure and one day I will get better. I have that hope and this site of Motts helps in profound ways. Just keep up this site!

Sorry, I just had to share that. I have not harmed myself since that day. I am supposed be under mental health care, only since no income, only my daughter's benefit SSA from her dad's death, is only income, so I had to cease from mental health, could not pay the fee.

DeafAngel - please contact me at
xtees@earthlink.net

I too spent time in this hellhole and
would really enjoy talking with you.

I must say, I remember visiting my father at this hospital. The green painted walls still make me shiver. My Dad was in and out of this hospital from the 1960's thru the 1980's. I remember when he had to have shock therapy. I remember his slurring speach from the high dose of medication. I remember him introducing us kids ( my sister and brother and myself) to his friends. Some of the other patients were real scarey. I have not spoken about these memories. I am 44 years old now. My Dad passed away 5 years ago. I would like to walk through these hallways just one last time. Let some security punk tell ME that I can't be there! I would love to talk to others that have had relatives there.

how can you people even speak like this... were you actually in here? i just cant see what is so beautiful about being locked up in some kind of hell hole, if you will. i dont see any beauty in locking real; people up in conditions like this...please fill me in on how you percieve the world because this is no kind of "beauty" to me!!!!!!!!!!!

Those kinds of bed posts have always in there own way creep me out... but then again what asylum hasn't. Thats what draws me to them. ;)

'zacly, Lynne :)p The scariest things are what's in our own minds that we don't know about. "Tell my brain to make it all stop."

Regarding things like Alzhemir's dementia...it would be awfully sad knowing that for all the care, concern and sympathy in the world, it may never reach a person.

"how can you people even speak like this... were you actually in here? i just cant see what is so beautiful about being locked up in some kind of hell hole, if you will. i dont see any beauty in locking real; people up in conditions like this...please fill me in on how you percieve the world because this is no kind of "beauty" to me!!!!!!!!!!!"

The beauty is the building, not what the building housed. The beauty is in Motts' photography and his ability to capture decay and catalog the architectural wonders of these places before they are gone. No one ever said being "locked up in a hell hole" is beautiful.