journal 9th April 2014
On the way home (back to ward 17 at Tauranga Hospital, the psych ward) one of the things I remember vividly is the feeling of freedom. Although I wasn't free, there was a huge shadow and presence surrounding Tokonui Hospital. Just say the word Tokonui and most people in this country think of the hospital, even if they have never been there, they know the reputation. Those who have been there fear and dread it.
We were in the car driving back, with two people in the front seat escorting me, and we drove alongside the Waikato river, up past Lake Karapiro, just climbing into the valley containing Hinuera, heading east. I noticed a paddock full of sheep, and they looked so happy. It must have been the child like appreciation of life awakened in me by the trauma of the event, but I thought of them as free and started to appreciate what freedom really tasted like. Little did I know what ordeals were to come, and I wasn't out of the woods yet. Not by a long way.
It must have been some time in January, because I remember sitting on the steps outside the Tauranga ward on the 11th, thinking it was only a year to the day since my mother had died, and wondering what she would have thought about it all. She would have wanted to protect me, like any mother, but as a trained nurse she would have known who to talk to and exactly what to say to resolve things.
Before then my sister had come to visit me, and taken me home for the day. It was so that we could spread mum's ashes in the cemetry. Mum and I had lobbied the council for a plot in the cemetry for that purpose. It was a windy day, and her instructions to spread her ashes to the "four winds" was literally that. I also remember that coming back from the shops that day, in my sister's car, she decided to take me back to the hospital. I had to remind her that we hadn't dealt with mum's ashes. She was due to go back to Brisbane with her daughter shortly, but I was still in the hospital when she did that, taking her share of mum's possessions with her. She often laments that she had nobody to drive her to catch the bus, and she had to ask my neighbours to do it, and reward them with a bottle of whiskey. She doesn't seem to yet understand that it was all her doing, and she blames me, but I don't want the family divided, and any weakness exploited by outsiders. I simply want the whole matter fogotten.
The hospital had a washing machine that didn't work too well, and a dining room and a couple of sleeping areas, segregated into male and female. One guy told me that had tried to poison himself, and had woken up with a mouth full of charcoal in hospital. Another patient was someone I went to primary school with. Max had been a year or two younger, but being here was nothing to be proud of, and all of us felt ashamed, and didn't really want to associate with each other. I'd brought so painting materials from home with me but wasn't allowed to use them.
The deal was that we were allowed to walk into town with permission. The proceedure was, if we were allowed out, we had to inform/ask, one of the nurses on duty, and they agreed, we were back by dinner time at 5.00 pm or the time they designated. It was quite a lot of freedom.. Not all were allowed to leave the ward. It was pretty boring. One day a group of the guys walked down the hill to the go cart track, and had a good time racing each other, then we had a race back up the hill to the ward. I'd been running regularly, and was doing a half marathon about three times a week, and ran along the local beach for about 60 to 100 minutes every day, so I was fairly fit. It was frustrating to be losing condition and being forced to eat institutional food.
At some point I went home for a day, and as I was soon to be released to my home, I brought my Mazda RX7 back with me so I could drive myself home. I'd bought it the year before after I'd had an accident in the Mazda 323 had been my mother's and which I'd bought from my sister for $16,000, and written off. A payout from ACC of $10,000 for my amputated finger had enabled me to buy it and it was my dream car even though it was second hand. I'd bought it while I was still at the polytech. On the 6th of February, Waitangi day, and after I'd been released from the hospital I drove one of teh other patients up to the Treaty celebrations, the first time I'd been tothem,and we stiopped at her home in Whangerai on the way. There was some socialising with other patients over that summer, but I've pretty much lost touch with them all since then.
One girl who was staying in a half way house outside the hospital grounds alleged that she had been on medication when two of the patients that I knew, one a soldier, had had sex with her, against her will. She had gone to the police, but they weren't interested in taking her complaint seriously. It it had been me I wouldn't have given up so easily, but they said if she didin't shut up it could happen to her again.
Later that year, in about November I decided to use some of the money my mother and father had left me, to go on a trip to Japan and China. My mother had invested her retirement savings with New Zealand Guardian Trust Limited, in a trust for her children, myself and my sister, according to my father's will. Before I left I put a sum of money, about $10,000 onto my Red Cross Mastercard, and signed a document for Guardian Trust giving them some "irrevocable" powers over my trust. I'd also spoken to Dr Barnett, my GP, who told me he wanted to give me an injection of Depixol, which I objected to as unnessary, but he reminded me that I was officially "on leave" from the hospital, and still under the mental health act as a compulsory patient, so I agreed to it. It was the only one he gave me. He also asked me if I would like him to write me a letter saying that I was travelling with his knowledge and concent, but I told him I didn't think it would be necessary.
My first stop was Japan, and I had purchased a rail pass, intending to head north for Sapporo, and see some of their fine pottery. Unfortunately I arrived in Japan during the weekend, when the banks were closed, and I hadn't brought any Japanese currency with me, beleiving it was illegal to take it out of or bring it into the country. Also my Mastercard didn't work in the bank machines in the airport. I had no choice, having an onward ticket to London, except to wait in the Narita airport terminal until Monday when the banks opened, and to go into Tokyo and withdraw some funds. It meant sleeping in the airport chairs, as I had no idea how to find a hotel. I'd also brought with me a couple of my paintings which I hoped to present to Mitsubishi bank, as they had purchased a Van Gogh for $100 million, and obviously invested in fine art, so there was a bit of luggage to deal with that I had to check into a locker. The saturday was taken up with watching television on one of the airport screens, and Sunday I decided to head into town after taking a shower.
The train was automatic, and I had teh assistance of a man form a country in Africa who had come to Japan to buy gold and silver thread for his company, because Japan is the world's leading manufacturer. After a time, we entered the city, after crossing a number of streams which appeared to be completely encased in concrete along their banks. No nature was visible. Randomly I selected a station to depart in. It was a huge maze of platforms and lines. Again randomly I headed down one subway, choosing another train as I was determined to find a Christian church and attend a sunday service, and headed out into the suburbs. The train was orange, that's all I remember about it. After a while I decided to get off at a station, and ask for directions. The first woman I asked had a straw hat on. "Do you know where I can find a church?" "Just a moment", she said."Here comes a woman who is going to church, go with her", and she introduced us. She and her son or brother and I got back on the train I had just departed, and went on for two or three stops, then we got off and boarded a bus. A short time later we arrived at a building which looked like a house, and went inside. It was on the side of a bank, so we went downwards into a small church where a Catholic priest was just about to begin.
After the service we went downstairs again, into a room where we had a cup of tea. It was a solidly built wooden building, and the lowest level we were on looked outside onto a stream, with a rock wall extending far above us. We could have been in the middle of a wilderness, not in the centre of Tokyo. It was funny, because it was vaguely familiar, as though I had lived there in a previous lifetime, and there was a small writing desk on a mat on the floor, which one would kneel at to write books. Izumi's friend and the preist and I had a conversation, and he offered me some money which I declined, as I said I was going to get a room in a youth hostel. Izumi and her son and I left, I think in a friends car, and she gave me her address and phone number and directions to the hostel. It wasn't hard to find despite the labyrinth of Tokyo. It was good to have a shower and a nice soft bed.
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