Emily Ryherd

The Absence of Help

The Absence of Help By:Emily Ryherd Beginning My red watery eyes stare at the small flatscreen TV that’s secured onto the white wall, as a random episode of I-Carly begins playing. My body shivers slightly as goosebumps begin to form on my arms, and I find myself annoyed at how cold hospitals always seem to be. Out of the corner of my eye, I can vaguely make out the woman who's been assigned to watch me, who is sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair and staring silently at the TV but every now and then I can see her take a brief look at me. The sudden eruption of a greatly distressed baby crying makes its way into my room, and I’ve been hearing this kind of thing off and on ever since I got here so at this point, I’m able to easily ignore it. My eyes blankly watch the show on the TV as the episode gets closer to its end, but on the inside, everything seems to be like it is falling apart. Hours ago, a social worker explained to me that there are no beds available in any of the surrounding psychiatric hospitals, so I find myself waiting in hopes that a bed becomes available soon. This is not the kind of thing I would have expected to hear, because you would think after trying to kill yourself, you would be able to get the help and treatment you need immediately. Instead, I find myself trapped in this depressing reality where I sit stuck with a stranger in a small ER room for hours on end, watching countless episodes of I-Carly while rounds of tears roll down my face, and feeling more alone than I have ever felt in a long time.