When the Dorothea Dix Hospital closed in 2012, many of the patients had already been transferred to other nearby mental health facilities. The official work of the hospital ceased with the transfer of the last patient, and many of the buildings of the hospital campus were scheduled for demolition following purchase of the property by the state.
One building remains on the picturesque campus and though it is believed to be a monument to the noble work for which the hospital was originally created, it is much more than that.
Dr. Geoffrey
“It was a difficult time for me,” Dr. Luther Geoffrey said very humbly. He was a man in his fifties and his greying hair made him look much older. He was a smoker, and though he had been a handsome man in his youth, the decades of chain smoking had ravaged his face and his teeth were off-white.
“I’ve reviewed the file,” the female administrator said without looking up from the paperwork in front of her. “You lost your family, your husband, your parents, your older sister, all in the span of a few months. It sounds like a very difficult time.”
Dr. Geoffrey nodded solemnly.
“You’ve been out of practice for a long time,” the female administrator said as she flipped through his resume. “You only recently sought a renewal. Is there a reason you’re ready to return to work after so long?”
“Yes,” Dr. Geoffrey said, clearing his throat. “I let my license lapse because I was undergoing treatment for my depression. And after so much time, my doctor agreed that I could safely return to work. I agree with her. I am ready to get back to the work that makes me feel like me. I was a psychiatrist for almost thirty years before things…got bad. And I loved every day of that work. Taking a step back was the right thing to do for my own mental health and to ensure that my patients got the care they deserved. But I am ready to pick things up where I left off.”
The female administrator nodded.
“I see you’ve published a lot of work on grief since you stepped away. I take it you aren’t rusty at all?”
“Renewing my license after so long was surprisingly easy. Like I said, psychiatry has been my passion my whole life. I only stopped working with patients, my curiosity for the work never waned.”
The woman finally looked at him and Dr. Geoffrey was surprised at her warm smile – she hadn’t expressed much warmth since he sat in her office.
“I’ll be honest with you, doctor, we are desperate. Since the hospital closed, we’ve had trouble attracting doctors, mostly because no one believes that we still operate in any capacity. But we do. We have one building, Dix Hill, and we are allowed to continue operations under a special grant from the state medical board. You would be the only doctor for Dix Hill, and you will have a staff of three nurses, three guards, one cook, and one student who is completing their residency. If you take the job, you could choose to live in the building for free and your meals will be provided by the cook.”
“May I ask why Dix Hill still operates when the majority of the hospital has been decommissioned?”
“There are never enough beds for mental health cases in this state and my boss is well connected. He managed to keep ten beds open to be filled at the discretion of the doctor we found to fill the position. There is a lot of autonomy in this position, you will be the only doctor and there won’t be any interference in your day to day or the treatment of your patients. But, there is a trial period. You have one year to show that Dix Hill is worth its operational costs or my boss will want to move funding to other projects that might be more fruitful. So choose your patients wisely and be prepared to justify the existence of Dix Hill. Are you interested?”
It was almost too good to be true and Dr. Geoffrey was interested and he took the job very enthusiastically.
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