Board & Care

A new psychiatrist showed up at the clinic and suggested I move from the hotel. He also stated that I should work with the homeless. He couldn’t tell me where to go, so I had no resources. A big strike against him. My counselor, though, told me he had opened up a board and care home. I decided to give it a try.

A rambling old nursing home had been rented to the counselor. He really didn’t know what he was doing. Many of the people came from the hotel, and unfortunately, the counselor admitted all with no questions asked. Being nice and tidy at first, the residents were to slowly tear the home apart. Three tables were pushed together and served as our dining room furniture, which hosted three different fights and arguments every evening at dinner. Prostitution and cocaine were the norm. A diabetic on heroin lost toes. It became so chaotic that the police informed the counselor they were no longer coming to the house. The counselor then proceeded to take the pay phone off the wall.

After a while, the most important thing to the counselor became the rent. Being evicted became the norm for many of the residents. I was away for a few days, and my bed was actually rented out!

While there, I volunteered at a nursing home down the street. One of my friends from the hotel was a patient. There I met the psychiatrist that I had seen at the mental health hotel years ago. He gave me his card.

Of course, I didn’t want to be at the board and care. At this point, I was stymied, not knowing where to go. I decided to fire my psychiatrist and leave the clinic. I felt like no one knew what they were doing. I discovered that the psychiatrist I had met at the nursing home had a storefront drop-in center, and I decided to drop in.

Open from 4 p.m. until 10 p.m., it was interesting to say the least. In the mornings, the doctor did his rounds of nursing homes and board and care facilities. The hours were inconvenient and a bit dangerous. Many times, I left at 10:00 at night. The risks proved well worth it as I made a connection with him immediately. When having a bad time, the doctor would have me sit in his “office” for hours. New medications were coming on the market, and he would carefully have me try them. At times, his clinic served as an “acute care hospital,” if only for a few hours. This saved the state a lot of money.