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The next day, March 27, was my fifth in the hospital but only the second time I had allowed my dad into my room. Most of the time I stared off into space, without any visible display of emotion, my psychosis now completely replaced by passivity. Still, these remote spells were sometimes punctuated by a few passionate pleas for help. In my few seemingly lucid moments (which are, like the rest of this time, still foggy or entirely blank in my own recollection), my dad felt as if some primal part of me was reaching out to him as I repeated over and over,“I’m dying in here. This place is killing me. Please let me leave.” These invocations deeply pained my father. He desperately wanted me out of this soul-sucking situation, but he knew there was no other option than to stay. Nedret steps back from the table and erupts in anger. HOSPITAL SUPPLIES DWINDLE. Ketamine is gone or hoarded away. Again, the sound of screaming fills the operating room. In moments of extreme stress and anger, thrown instruments fly through the air and clatter on the floor. The doctors are exhausted and hungry. Ilijaz cannot believe it! He rips open a box.
