He begins to sob almost uncontrollably behind the wheel of the car while driving faster than he should on a city road. Suddenly, in the darkness of his mind a memory begins to shine some light. He remembers the hospital in the neighborhood that is known even in Haiti. He remembers stories of how people would come right off the airplane from John F. Kennedy airport, head directly to Kings County Hospital and receive treatment for their illnesses. He had also heard the patrons at the barbershop joke about people who were treated at the “G” building, where “moun fou,” crazy people, are kept. “Maybe I am losing my mind,” he thinks to himself. Reaching Albany and Church Avenue, he quickly makes a left turn, heading for where he heard this “G” building was located. The tears flow freely now and he barely recognizes the man that occasionally glances back at him in the rearview mirror.
At Clarkson and Albany Avenues, he takes the red light, nearly colliding with a woman in a black Volvo. She curses at him as he speeds off, only to stop at the end of the block where a parking space is waiting for him. After parking the car and placing the keys in his pocket, he runs across Albany Avenue into the entrance of the Psychiatric Emergency Room. He then pushes the doors open and heads straight for the first person he sees in a white hospital scrub. He grabs the nurse forcefully by the arm and frantically begins to yell, “Help me, Help me” while crying uncontrollably and frightening her. By this time, two security officers who are posted at the entrance of the emergency room quickly approach this apparently dangerous intruder. He notices their approach and screams out “Anmwe,” “Help!” Thinking that these officers are the New York City police, he tries to evade them in a small and confined emergency room, all the while screaming “Anmwe…Anmwe!” This only attracts more uniformed officers into the now established melee. As they try to talk to him, he becomes more agitated. Even if they were able to speak his language, it would have been futile.
At this point, he believes that they are all a part of a conspiracy to kidnap him and his family will never hear from him again. He makes a feeble attempt to fight off the officers, which only results in being restrained and carried into a room, away from everyone. Now in this confined place, he continues to cry loudly in Creole, asking God for forgiveness for many imagined sins. Later, he is found on his knees in a pool of tears when a Haitian psychiatrist eventually comes to speak to him. He is inconsolable and wishes only to end his life since he is a failure and the world knows it. The odor from his mouth is evidence of that he says. He agrees to let the doctor give him some medication more out of respect than with a hope that it will make a difference in his outcome. The doctor says that the medication is for his nerves and soon he feels the penetration of a small needle in his right shoulder. In a few moments, he begins to feel groggy, then sleepy. His last thoughts before falling asleep are that of his wife and children who are depending on him to send money home.