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Creedmoor Psychiatric: Where the Story Takes Place (Part I)
That Guy in Our Women's Studies Class takes place predominantly in three venues: a facility for homeless people with psychiatric histories located on the grounds of Creedmoor Psychiatric Hospital, a SUNY college campus in nearby Nassau County, and, later, a larger SUNY campus farther out on the island.
At the story's open, I -- via my alias in the story, Derek Turner -- am living in the facility while commuting to and from the first SUNY campus where I'm taking my courses.
Creedmoor Hospital is a relic of the days of massive long-term (mostly permanent) institutionalization. It's not a building, it's a campus, with dozens and dozens of buildings sprawled out across Queens Village and neighboring communities in eastern Queens. The buildings look like medieval fortresses, with massive brickwork and imperiously angular faces and rooflines, bars in the windows and fences around everything.
Inside, the general design reflects a primary consideration for being able to monitor a lot of people from a minimum number of observation points: patients' living spaces tended to be aggregate, with the exception of a sprinkling of isolation rooms, and dining and day rooms were also large open areas. Professional offices were small and tended towards heavy metal doors without windows.
At one time, the institution ran its own support services such as medical and laundry and automotive and other equipment repair, perhaps even its own crematorium, operating as a separate entity from the surrounding suburban communities.
Covered walkways led from building to building, and in many cases underground tunnels connected them as well.
By the time I was placed there as a homeless person, operations had scaled back considerably, with many of these large buildings no longer in use. The east half of Building 4 was the location of the Queens Mens Shelter, where -- in contrast to most other aggregate homeless shelters in the city -- I could lay claim to a bed within a room (even if the room had no door, let alone a locking one) and leave things behind and come back and mostly depend on them still being there. There were lockers and we could store things. It was inhumane, abusive and violent, but the ability to retain some paperwork and some continuity of connection with other people gave me options I didn't have in the shelter system generically.
Meanwhile, the other side of Building 4, the west half, was being refurbished, with walls knocked down and new ones put up and everything repainted and linoleum put down on the floors, and a less prisonlike appearance attempted. This was where the Residential Care Center for Adults was being installed, and along with perhaps 70% of the other residents of the Queens Mens' Shelter I was successfully screened into the program and assigned a case worker.
We were all supposed to be enrolled in a "program", some type of scheduled activity that would theoretically rehabilitate us. My "program" was attending college.
One of the ongoing themes in the book is the discrepancy between an alleged commitment to client self-determination and self-governance and the realities of institutionalized care of this sort. The intersection of attitudes towards people with a psychiatric diagnosis and attitudes towards homeless people was not a comfortable place to be.
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My first book, GenderQueer: A Story From a Different Closet, is published by Sunstone Press. It is available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble in paperback, hardback, and ebook, and as ebook only from Apple, Kobo, and directly from Sunstone Press themselves.
My second book, That Guy in Our Women's Studies Class, has also now been published by Sunstone Press. It's a sequel to GenderQueer. It is available on Amazon and on Barnes & Noble in paperback. eBook version and hardback versions to follow, stay tuned for details.
Links to published reviews and comments are listed on my Home Page, for GenderQueer now and for Guy in Women's Studies once they come out.
———————
This DreamWidth blog is echoed on LiveJournal and WordPress. Please friend/link me from any of those environments on which you have an account.
————————
Index of all Blog Posts
At the story's open, I -- via my alias in the story, Derek Turner -- am living in the facility while commuting to and from the first SUNY campus where I'm taking my courses.
Creedmoor Hospital is a relic of the days of massive long-term (mostly permanent) institutionalization. It's not a building, it's a campus, with dozens and dozens of buildings sprawled out across Queens Village and neighboring communities in eastern Queens. The buildings look like medieval fortresses, with massive brickwork and imperiously angular faces and rooflines, bars in the windows and fences around everything.
Inside, the general design reflects a primary consideration for being able to monitor a lot of people from a minimum number of observation points: patients' living spaces tended to be aggregate, with the exception of a sprinkling of isolation rooms, and dining and day rooms were also large open areas. Professional offices were small and tended towards heavy metal doors without windows.
At one time, the institution ran its own support services such as medical and laundry and automotive and other equipment repair, perhaps even its own crematorium, operating as a separate entity from the surrounding suburban communities.
Covered walkways led from building to building, and in many cases underground tunnels connected them as well.
By the time I was placed there as a homeless person, operations had scaled back considerably, with many of these large buildings no longer in use. The east half of Building 4 was the location of the Queens Mens Shelter, where -- in contrast to most other aggregate homeless shelters in the city -- I could lay claim to a bed within a room (even if the room had no door, let alone a locking one) and leave things behind and come back and mostly depend on them still being there. There were lockers and we could store things. It was inhumane, abusive and violent, but the ability to retain some paperwork and some continuity of connection with other people gave me options I didn't have in the shelter system generically.
Meanwhile, the other side of Building 4, the west half, was being refurbished, with walls knocked down and new ones put up and everything repainted and linoleum put down on the floors, and a less prisonlike appearance attempted. This was where the Residential Care Center for Adults was being installed, and along with perhaps 70% of the other residents of the Queens Mens' Shelter I was successfully screened into the program and assigned a case worker.
We were all supposed to be enrolled in a "program", some type of scheduled activity that would theoretically rehabilitate us. My "program" was attending college.
Generally speaking, the RCCA personnel came in three broad types. There were plenty of self-important true believers who thought themselves to be doing good
things for the homeless mentally ill, and were horribly condescending to all the residents and questioned our judgment on each and every little thing, but weren’t malicious about it. There were the sadistic ones like Jerry Durst and Tony the security guard, people who got a jolt of pleasure from dehumanizing and humiliating people, who had probably gravitated toward these kind of situations because of the perpetual supply of powerless victims. And then there were people like John Fanshaw, who were mildly cynical about the world, its institutions, and the fairness of things, who enjoyed helping people where they could and didn’t see the residents as entirely different from themselves, but rather as people in a complicated and unfortunate situation or two.
One of the ongoing themes in the book is the discrepancy between an alleged commitment to client self-determination and self-governance and the realities of institutionalized care of this sort. The intersection of attitudes towards people with a psychiatric diagnosis and attitudes towards homeless people was not a comfortable place to be.
—————
My first book, GenderQueer: A Story From a Different Closet, is published by Sunstone Press. It is available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble in paperback, hardback, and ebook, and as ebook only from Apple, Kobo, and directly from Sunstone Press themselves.
My second book, That Guy in Our Women's Studies Class, has also now been published by Sunstone Press. It's a sequel to GenderQueer. It is available on Amazon and on Barnes & Noble in paperback. eBook version and hardback versions to follow, stay tuned for details.
Links to published reviews and comments are listed on my Home Page, for GenderQueer now and for Guy in Women's Studies once they come out.
———————
This DreamWidth blog is echoed on LiveJournal and WordPress. Please friend/link me from any of those environments on which you have an account.
————————
Index of all Blog Posts