NEW YORK CITY (1998) "Bellevue Hospital"

Bellevue was full of pathos and humor, smart people/dumb people, minor commotions and dramatic scenes … and tragedy of course.

I’m stretching my “Travels to Distant Cities” blog descriptor a bit here, Bellevue Hospital is not a city. But it is a big hospital and big hospitals are similar to cities. They have their hierarchies, their different classes, their gift shops, their Starbucks.

Bellevue was crowded like a city. Walking in its front doors was like entering the gates of an ancient trading bazaar. Every age, nationality and ethnicity was represented. The people streamed passed you in a never-ending flow.

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I first visited Bellevue during my second year of sobriety in Alcoholics Anonymous. My first year of sobriety was a revelation: it was exciting, challenging, I was meeting new people, experiencing a new way of life.

That second year though, that was tough. I had been warned about this. The second year was when the novelty wore off. When you came back down to earth. During that second year, AA people often suffered from depression or other mental health issues their drinking had previously covered up.

That’s what happened to me. I woke up one cold morning in my tiny room in Brooklyn, saw the grey sky outside, and felt a kind of blankness I had never experienced before.

So I was sober, so what? I was still poor. I had still fucked up my writing career. I still had my difficult personality, minimal social skills, no girlfriend. What was going to happen to me? I was almost 40 years old!

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In 1998, talk therapy was the go-to option in such cases. It was what other AA people did. I had never gone to therapy before but it seemed worth a try.

A non-AA friend told me about a program at Bellevue hospital: for a reduced rate, you could see young therapists who had just finished their training. So I made the call and set up a screening interview. Just doing that was a relief.

The day of my interview, I rode the G train to the L Train, crossed under the East River and got off at First Avenue. From there, I rode the bus up First Ave to 27^th street, ran across the street when there were no cars and passed between the two stone pillars that guarded the entrance to Bellevue Hospital.

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