KNOCKABOUT
mental in massachusetts
B.C. SCOTT 5 Copyright © 2015 by B.C. Scott
All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in
any manner without written permission from the
author except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical articles and literary reviews.
First edition B.C. Scott, September, 2015.
Printed at Harvard Book Store
Cambridge, MA / USA
Additional copies available at
www.harvard.com
1-617-475-8303
6 Dedicated to
Emerson and Stoobie
7 Definitions of Mental
Adjective
1. of or involving the mind or an intellectual process
2. occurring only in the mind: mental calculations
3. affected by mental illness: a mental patient
4. concerned with care for persons with mental illness:
a mental hospital
5. (slang) insane
Synonyms
intellectual, rational, theoretical, cognitive, brain,
conceptual, cerebral
psychiatric, psychogenic
insane, mad, disturbed, unstable, mentally ill,
lunatic, psychotic, unbalanced, deranged
Source: Collins English Dictionary
Knockabouts could outsail and out-maneuver
most of the dories and catboats of the day and many of
the larger racing craft. They could fight their way
through narrow channels against racing tides, sail in
ten inches of water, buck choppy seas, and, when wellreefed, could take almost any weather......
Excerpted from
Cape Cod’s Baby Knockabout Grows Up
By Winthrop M. Munro
MotorBoating Magazine July, 1961, pg. 44
8 AUTHOR’S NOTE:
This book is based on my memories and
experiences. Compressions of timelines and character
composites may have taken place. Some dialogue is
word for word and some is crafted or overdone.
Artistic license and hyperbole may have been
employed. Also, names, places, and story details may
have been changed or omitted to protect my privacy
and the privacy of people in my life.
To be clear, childhood trauma has many forms
and just as many outcomes. This is my story with my
thoughts and feelings. Knockabout is not written with
any intention for use as diagnosis or treatment. It’s an
imperfect book for imperfect people, like me.
B.C.S.
9 CONTENTS
Asylum...13
Heaven...19
Danny...22
The Nest...24
The Motorcycle...26
Translation...29
Beach Combing...31
Sacred Grotto...34
Blooming...36
Higher Ed...41
Incision...44
Lab Brat...46
Dreamboats...54
The Belle of the Squall...56
Gym Nauseam...61
The Corner Pocket...65
Blinders...67
Batter Up...71
Home Sweet Home...74
10 PART TWO
Release...80
Admittance...83
Clicks...85
Homework...90
The Library...92
Flying High...94
Payment Due...96
Sigh-Fi...98
Helena...100
The Daily Dunk...102
First Names...103
Book Issues...105
Eavesdropping...106
Countdown...108
Liftoff...111
Present Day...115
Acknowledgments...117
11 “Be kind, for everyone you meet
is fighting a great battle.”
Attributed to Philo of Alexandria
12 ASYLUM
JUNE 1, 2004
My latest psychiatrist fired me due to my
arrogant attitude so I’m left scrambling for some
Paxil. I am sick of therapists and refuse to look for
another. Now I’m hospital-hopping for refills. I’d
hope for a kind intern and then tell him that I lost
my pills at the beach or the laundromat or
whatever and my regular doctor was on vacation.
They’d usually help me out with a short-term
prescription to tide me over.
It’s been working okay until now but I’ve
run out of pills and I’m getting a little loopy so no
way I can make it through another four-hour wait
in the ER. I’m desperate so I decide to try the
mental health facility right down the street.
I’m not too happy about that. I prefer
emergency rooms because I can usually go
unnoticed in all the chaos. I’m looking kind of
gross and maybe even a little weird because I
spend every minute taking care of my house. I
never sit down because there are a million things
that need to get done. I don’t care how I look. All
I care about is my house. That’s all that matters.
13 So I head over and bring my lists and
notebooks and papers and stuff I’m constantly
working on. Pulling my Hyundai hatchback into
the parking lot, I’ve got to say the place looks
pretty nice. It’s a brick building with pillars and a
turnaround driveway. I find a good spot for my
car that has a whole lot of room around it. I like to
keep my car away from other cars because it’s
brand-new. Okay, okay, it’s eight years old but
it’s new to me.
I make my way up the walkway and push
the buzzer a couple of times. I hear someone say
Yes, what can we do for you? I say Yes, hello, I’m
wondering if you could help me. My doctor
happens to be on vacation right now. Is it possible
to see someone for a temporary refill?
She buzzes me through. A nurse comes
out and asks me what I need. I tell her my story
about needing a refill and follow her through a
large double door into a tiny waiting room. We
speak for a few more minutes and then she goes
back across the hall.
I’ve got to get some work done so I pull
out my piles of papers from my monkey bag. This
is a cool red canvas satchel that came with a little
14 red monkey attached to the zipper. Once when I
was at the airport a cute kid saw the monkey and
was so captivated by it that I gave it to him. Kids
are more important than things.
So I set up a temporary workstation in
the waiting room for my papers, pulling out this
and that and writing on this and that. I cover two
tables with my stuff and put the rest in piles on
the floor. After about ten minutes the nurse comes
back into the waiting room, looks at me with
concern, writes down something, and goes back
into her office.
I yell across the hall Hey, what’s the
holdup? She pokes her head out and says You’re
exhausting! So I’m like What the hell is going on
here? She won’t even answer a simple question so
I pack up all my stuff to leave. I make a beeline
for the double doors. They won’t open so I try
them a couple more times. This is not good. This
is not good at all.
I glance over at the nurse in the office.
She won’t even look at me. I scuttle back into the
waiting room to make a plan. Seconds later, two
big guys in white coats crowd into my little room
and head towards me. With a rehearsed
15 benevolence, they each take an arm and start
walking me toward a plain white door at the other
end of the hall. I know that once they have me on
the other side of that door I’m no longer in control
of my life.
I have about ten seconds. I know the few
words I can get out have to be the perfect mix of
rationale and persuasion. Why does your opinion
of me have more weight than my own opinion?
It’s against the law to hold me against my will.
The white coats don’t respond. For once in my
life I can’t talk my way out of a situation. We
walk together into the inner asylum. I hear the
door lock behind me.
I’m standing at the admitting desk for the
formal intake. I repeat over and over This is a
mistake. I don’t belong here. They smile at my
protests, take my monkey bag and tell me they
have to search it. I’m ready to freak out but I have
to keep my cool. Next I’m shown the snack room
and where “group” will take place. Then I meet
with a doctor. We talk for a while. He tells me I
am exhibiting the worst case of mania he has ever
seen in his practice. I say I always act this way.
Ask anyone.
16 After two weeks in the asylum, I meet
with the head doctor. Over the next hour he shares
with me his professional opinion of my condition.
He says I am Rapid Cycling Bipolar I with PTSD,
Social Anxiety, Borderline Personality and an
Eating Disorder. He explains that I am required,
upon my release from the hospital, to engage in
the psychiatric and psychological care that has
been set up for my recovery. Even though I’ve
just been told I’m officially a nutcase, I feel
weirdly okay.
Maybe now that I know what is wrong I
can fix it. I tell the doctor I just want to be
normal. He says You will never be normal. But
with the right therapy and the proper medication
your feelings and reactions should be in a more
normal, less frightening range.
As I pack up my few things to leave I
wonder what it’s like to have normal feelings. I
realize during my two-week stay in the hospital,
it’s the first time I’ve felt safe and protected in a
very, very long time. I didn’t know until just now
how hyper-vigilant I am, always on high alert,
always on guard, like a constant code red.
17 I step outside the “pretty nice” building I
entered two weeks ago. My eyes squint in the
bright sunlight. Walking to my car I feel scared
and hopeful. This two-week unannounced and
unforeseen break in my life may be my luckiest
break ever. I have been given the opportunity to
regroup, reflect and restore my balance. I have
never backed down from a challenge. But this is
different. This is unique. This is my greatest fight.
I am fighting for my life.
18