To whom it may concern....

There is such a thing as Mental Illness. This is coming from one of the greatest skeptics of all time. I have always known there were legitimate cases of mental illness out there, but I felt that many have used the difficulty in diagnosing such disease as an opportunity for attention, or a way to get out of dealing with life. And unfortunately there are some who do just that.
This week I was assigned to do a few clinical rotations out at the State Hospital for the Mentally impaired. I was assigned the forensic unit, which houses patients that have commited crimes and are either not guilty by reason of insanity, guilty but not fit to be housed at the prison, or are awaiting competency hearings to determine their mental status in lieu of a trial.
In report I learned a little of each patients background, their diagnosis and treatments, and also what each had done to land themselves in such a fine establishment. I must say I had a fairly decent cross section of criminal society to observe for the remainder of the shift. Some of them have been battling mental illness from childhood, and others developed symptoms in adulthood. One only developed his mental illness after a traumatic brain injury suffered in a car accident which culminated in his committing murder.
I spent the entire day out in the common area watching the patients mill around, talking to each other or themselves. Occasionally one would come up and ask me who I was. Surprisingly many were very "with it" and were able to discuss what they had done to deserve such treatment, and even express their gratitude for the help they were recieving.
Their entire day is spent in a living area of about 2000 square feet. That includes the kitchen area, their bedrooms, the staff area, the common area, the bathrooms, and the hallways. In this particular wing of the hospital, approximately 24 patients lived in a kind of linked existance. All but one were free to come out of their rooms and walk around and interact with each other and the staff. Many of them never went out side, never went out of the unit as a matter of fact. Some of them had been in this unit for years and would never leave it. They just roamed around, bumping into each other and living for the next meal. On one wall, a piece of paper hung with a list detailing just how many laps up and down that hall equaled one mile, under the list was a challenge to see how many miles you could walk in a given day.
One patient told me that he had been living there for two strait years, but "was getting out soon". When I pressed him for more information, he grew quiet and stared off down another hall where two other patients had just finished lap number whatever. I told him I was glad to hear that there was an end in sight and he could soon be back with his family. I am not sure if he heard me or not because when I turned back to see if he was listening he had shuffled off to ask a staff member when lunch was coming. I guess that is how they keep time there.