You capture the wrenching pain so well.

In the hospital I too, would wonder about the legacy of voices who lived in my room and slept in my bed. What kind of tapestry of suffering did we form? When I was horribly depressed, I actually asked to be in the quiet room, to escape the tension and noise on the unit. I kept the door open, and under supervision, they let me have my walkman. I would curl up on the plastic covered mattress-- literally--and

turn on the music and close my eyes. The quiet room became my surprising escape in the midst of a unit full of torment. Thank you for your honest, painful article.