So where was I… Oh yeah.
Man: Ma’am you have been involuntarily Baker Acted. This means that this officer and I will be taking you to our Mental Psyche Facility for observation.
Chico: A Baker what? Man, get the hell out of my way, this is my wife and we are going home.
Officer: Sir I would advise you to stand here.
Me: I haven’t done anything to no damn Baker. I am going home. We have not done anything wrong. We have not broken any laws.
Man: Ma’am, I a sorry but at this point you are a ward of the state.
I’m in my head so confused. I have definitely heard that term before and no way in hell was somebody going to put that word and my name in the same sentence. The police officer and Chico are going back and forth about what he gone do. I am looking at him like my name is “Cookie Lyons”, like I got this! I am more worried about Chico than I am myself at this moment. I didn’t know what the hell a Baker Act was, but I damn sure knew what a black man in jail looked like. Keep in mind, we have already received a warning earlier that day. I am shaking my head at Chico like “Please calm down”. He is still trying to go off on the man who acts as if none of this radical behavior is going on in the room. The man is more focused on me removing all of my clothes, hair pins, purse, earrings, and then he asked me for my wedding ring…..
When Chico and I first started talking about getting married, I was still working my “very corporate job”. I told Chic that I was fine with a $25 gold thin band. It was no way in hell that I was not getting a promotion or a raise at work, because they were counting my money. NOT ON DUTY! Believe it or not, I meant that and I was sincere about it. So for all of you that remember me back in my “gold digging” days, people can change, somewhat…. When I got to the altar… Wait, I gotta tell you this and he is going to trip out again when he reads this, but this fool was crying at the altar while I was coming down the aisle. I am looking at him like, do you want this “something old” hankie? You better stop all that damn being emotional, lets get this paperwork on us straight. Our wedding was a blast and I will tell yall about that later. However, when it was time to exchange rings, Chic had a five carat diamond ring. He had to sell 4 houses to get it for me and worked his ass off to make sure that I had something beautiful. I have an Aunt that later told me that I needed to be proud to wear that ring to work. I explained to her about the raise and the promotion theory. She looked me dead in my eyes and said that “my life was not just mines anymore, it was ours. If that man put that ring on your finger, then you damn sure better wear it before someone else will.” From that moment on, I cherished my wedding ring. If you did not know that I was married, your ass knew now because of the satellite that was now on my left hand. Unfortunately, I stuck to my rationale of thinking and bought Chic’s ring at Kroger Market Place on Independence Drive in Virginia Beach. When I was in produce, they announced on the intercom that they had a $10,000 necklace on sale. What pushed my buggy over there was when they said that I could get 10,000 fuel points with any jewelry purchase. SAY NO MORE! ON DUTY! Chic’s car uses premium gasoline. I think for a whole year we paid $0.89 a gallon because of that damn purchase. His ring is real and it has some nice stones in it that I picked out.
Now, having said all of that, I had no clue what to do. I was stuck. I promised Chico that I was never going to not wear my wedding ring again. Here I was, with no damn clue as to what was going to happen to me next, looking at Chic like “what do I do?”. You could tell the man was getting impatient. He looked like he had been through this with other people before and this was just part of the job, ripping families a part. The other side of the room has Chico hot with this man. At this point the police officer is looking at him, trying to calm him down, and understanding the situation. However, Chico was not allowed to touch me at that point and the police officer was just doing his job. I take my ring off and the string that was in my jogging pants and handed it over to the police officer, who then gave it to Chic. Seriously, a string and my wedding ring? This hurt my heart to the core and I could tell that Chico’s head was in the “matrix”. Here it was, you are standing right there and they are physically pulling your wife away from you. I am steady pleading with Chic to calm down, we are going to fix this. At this point Chico is pleading with the man and the officer that I am ok and he just wanted his wife to leave with him. And in good ole Florida fashion, they threw me some scrubs, told me to change and I would be escorted to the Psyche Ward. Did you remember that the room that we were in had this big ass window? I was allowed to keep my underwear, but no bra (underwire). The man left the room, I guess to process me. In good faith, the police officer was going to be the one to escort me, so he allowed Chico to ride with me in the elevator to the “doom room”.
I told Chico that everything was going to be alright. I did not want him getting into any trouble because he was trying to save me. So we “Cookie and Luscious” the situation. Once we got to the Psyche Floor, it was like Fort Knox (WTF). Chico and I hugged for as long as they would let us. He promised me that he would get me out of here in a few hours. Unfortunately, when Chico told my real doctor what happened, she called the hospital and was overly upset about my treatment. The hospital told her that she had no reign or jurisdiction in the situation. So what does this mean for me? I am stuck.
Once, Chico is back on the elevator to leave the psyche floor, I am escorted into a small room that was locked. Not ten minutes later, a black man, who I later learned was the head orderly, came into the room with a clip board and a camera. I am still crying. My head is still killing me. I am hungry. I am worried about Chico. I am trying to figure out how in the hell am I going to get out of this.
I look at this man and I tell him that they have made a mistake. I am not mentally unfit. He looks at me with compassion and says, “I am sure that you are a fine young lady. I hate this part of my job. But I have to do what I have to do. I will make sure that you are okay in here. But for now, I have to process you.” He asks me some general questions and then he asked me to look up. I literally looked at the ceiling. Hell I didn’t know he wanted me to face his ass. He instructs me to look at him. Next thing, I know he has the camera all in my face and he has taken a MUG SHOT of me!!! It wasn’t one of those mug shots where you are up against the wall, when you are processed in jail. It was literally, me sitting down in a chair and all of a sudden have this light flashing in front of your eyes. I was told to stand up. He took a picture of everything! He apologized for having to do this, but yes I know, this was procedure and you are just doing your job. He took pictures of my arms, legs, feet, and neck. This was to see if I had any track marks on my body when admitted (SMH). The man opens the door behind me and it was like Cabrini Green. What did I get myself into? A “nurse”, if that is what you wanted to call her, comes to me. She gives me a white hand towel, rubber pillow, rubber mat, “no” slip socks, and a small white sheet. I would get a toothbrush in the morning. I asked her, “Ma’am, I haven’t had anything to eat and I came here to be seen regarding my blood pressure. Is there anyway, that I can get something to eat? Can I at least get my blood pressure medicine?”. Home girl looks at me and goes off to fetch me something. She comes back with two Benadryl, an orange, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich…. I am allergic to peanuts.
Alright gang, see what happens next in the “Doom Room”.