NONFICTION  -  
​      With a Theme of Time     

"Our family doctor suggested the Klau Pavilion at Montefiore Hospital."

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Klau Pavilion
by  Richard Marino

While living at home, and being a seventeen-year-old high school student, I came out to my parents. They were not ready for this, and I knew they would not be. They were seriously disappointed and they both cried all night about it. I felt I was in a circumstance that forced me to have to come out to them, as I told them about Rob, my boyfriend.
 
I was feeling awful about hiding and then telling the truth.
 
How could I have become the pariah, when all I wanted was to be myself. I felt so bad that I hurt their world, but I felt I had the right to explore my gay world. My feelings were splintered, and I was confused about experiencing perturbing thoughts. I felt I was coming apart. They wanted me to get help. I agreed.
 
Our family doctor suggested the Klau Pavilion at Montefiore Hospital. It was a psychiatric unit for admitted or outpatient individuals. It had a reputation for being a place where “crazies” go.
 
When my mom and I arrived at the Pavilion, we were a little wary, but the entrance had cheery blue doors against a brick facade. It was seven stories high and looked imposing. I believe we were both scared about being inside.
 
We went to the welcome desk on the second floor. The receptionist had us sit down and I filled out a form with information about myself. There were too many questions about how I felt, but I was a new patient, and it needed to be done.
 
My mom insisted on saying that I have caused my parents a whole lot of grief. I am sure that was true, but I was feeling the same grief. I tried to explain that I was upset too, but she felt it was my fault. She also wanted to know if she did anything wrong that led to this. I told her that I was gay, that people are born this way, and it was not a plan to hurt anyone.
 
 But she was hurt. I was hurt. It was a stark reality.

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After a short while, a woman came out and greeted us. She resembled Mrs. Danvers from the movie Rebecca, stiff and rigid. She introduced herself as Miss Starr. She was interviewing me so I could be placed with the proper therapist. After the “who are you" questions, she asked me “why I was there.”
 
I hesitantly told her that, “I am having feelings that make me feel out of control and a little crazy. I cannot keep up with rapid thoughts, many of them confusing and destructive. I feel like I am in outer space.”
 
My mom became agitated and wanted to know why I was saying these things, and will I be cured. That was a very striking statement and one that needed a response. Miss Starr knew that all this was strange to us. She was easy with my mom who was crying and acting unhinged. She asked for a private conference with my mom. Miss Starr wanted to keep my mom engaged.
 
They were not far from me, so I heard what was said. “Everything takes time and in time we come to a better understanding of the situation,” she said to my mom. “We don’t use the term cured. We do not believe in cures, but rather an understanding. We believe that we all have moments in our lives where we need help.” She used a soft tone, but she had a strong demeanor and commanded attention. I am glad Miss Starr did not say that we were born this way. That was my line.
 
“Why is he this way?” my mom pleaded. It was overwhelming for mom. I could hear Mom cry as she sat on a bench. I was feeling so guilty and submerged with grief. I did feel that I caused a lot of pain and it could not be helped.
 
Miss Starr suggested that Mom take two aspirins and said that she understood my mom’s frustration, but nothing can be easy in cases of mental health. “We all need to have empathy and patience,” she pleaded. “Not just for me, but for you folks too.” She gave my mom the aspirins and my mom took them. Soon she started calming down. I was glad. She cried softly.

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I wondered if the aspirins were valium. I probably needed 10 of them, as I was sent to my assigned therapist.
 
Her name was Toni, and she was about thirty-years-old and petit. She wore glasses. Toni asked me to be seated. I slowly began to cry a little and she assured me that this would not be as hard as I thought. She wanted to know if I had ever had therapy before. My answer was no.
 
I told her about my gay escapades and how I felt I could no longer feel compelled to conceal them. My folks thought I was with a girl and her friends. They knew her and trusted our friendship. However, I was involved with a man, Rob, who was a radical, and he encouraged me to be the same. I felt I was being pulled from all sides and beset with grief, experiencing crazy thoughts, and jitters started happening.
 
Toni said that I was acutely depressed. This condition was not unusual. “It is treatable,” she said. I strangely started to calm down and I think it was Toni’s soft, assuring voice. She then said that what I experienced was an Anxiety Attack and that it was something that could be treated with therapy. If it became severe, then drugs could be prescribed.
 
I felt like a bus had lifted off my shoulders. Now I have a term to use. Anxiety Attack. I had a condition that had a name, and it is treatable and not uncommon among teens. Toni told me about a class offered at The Pavilion made up of gay teens from different backgrounds who were also experiencing these disorders. She said that a new therapy was being used. It was an absolute new concept and experimental, but she said it had much promise. Toni believed that being gay was not the issue, that depression and lack of self-worth were what the therapy would address.

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When our session was over, I was in a happy mood, and I felt somewhat relieved. I think my mom noticed it and she too seemed much calmer. She wanted to know, as we left the building, if the therapist talked about her and dad. I assured her that the conversation was about ME and my issues. Then there was a long silence and we looked at each other and then hugged. We even sobbed a little as we headed home.
 
I realized that I had come to the right place. Gay liberation in 1970 was a new concept.
 
I was so lucky to find a clinic where compassionate therapy was being used to treat the psychological effects of coming out in gay teens.
 
I could have shouted HALLELUJAH! 

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​Richard Marino has lived in San Francisco since 1983. He moved to San Francisco from New York where he lived in the East Village. He has worked in the San Francisco Public Library (Main) for the past 28 years. He has been with the Gay Gray Writers since its inception in 2014. He joined the queer elders’ group four years ago which led to their having writings published in a one-time journal in November 2019. His pieces tend to be memoir, and he has written many of them. This opportunity with OLLI is an incredible blessing to him and he would like to participate in the future. 

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