TITLE: The Building That Haunted Me
By Cheryl saddlemire
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Before I was admitted to the treatment center, I was diagnosed as having "Speech Spectrum Disorder," and Attention deficient disorder. When I was at the treatment center, I can remember the time when I fidgeted at the dinner table, and I was moved back by one of the child care workers. I became miserable because I couldn't eat my dessert, which was either a bowl of peaches or pears.
I had to wait on the bench with my therapist when the cafeteria was full. I was so hungry that I became impatient. I was happy when we could finally enter the cafe where there were some children with their workers.
I can remember how awful those pills tasted when I was ordered take them for my hyperactivity. I took my medication with food or milk.
I can remember the time when I was watching Sesame street with my therapist, and I would ask,
“Does the puppets have shoes?”
Then the therapist asked,
“Do you see any shoes?”
I couldn’t remember if I gave her a yes or no answer. Another time when we were in a car going back to the centre, I asked my worker if the cookie will hurt me, and she said,
"No he will not hurt you."
One day after lunch when I was about to take my nap, my worker showed me a house made out of candy and gum in which made by a few of the residents. I don't remember falling asleep on one of those beds, but I do recall that I didn't want to stay on my bed during the day in the children's ward.
I remember when I was ordered to go for blood work at the hospital, which was located across from the center. I struggled, screamed, and pleaded with my workers not to take me over to to get a needle. Whenever I received a needle, I screamed, and saw how much blood they were took out. Oh! It was so painful! When it was over, I was given a chocolate bar.
Another little girl by the name of Angie had hit me over the head for no reason, and I hollered and cried for fear that she would do it again. She didn't hit me that often though.
One day when Angie and I were laying on a mat we were given some smarties if were quiet. When we laid there without saying another word, the therapist would give us another one.
In the back of the pediatric treatment centre, there was a playground, in which I had the priviledge to use when I behaved myself. They had a swing, and some monkey bars.
Now as I walk through that road where the centre is located, there is nothing. The backyard is bare, the front door had been changed. I could remember the old wooden doors as I came up those steps inside which was once an institution.
When I recently saw the building, all those memories haunted me, and I learned to heal from them all by God.
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