One Flew Into The Cuckoo’s Nest

Once I heard the front door was open, and it didn’t even take climbing, the decision was made for me. I had to go in. I’d only been waiting for this place to come down to my level since I started exploring, and for the first time in at least five years (other than a close call where all I managed was to pick the worst, wrong-est possible day to walk right in the front door, climb to the roof and see a parade of every law enforcement agency in the county!) my fat ass could fit into the Terrence Building. Of course, I would have preferred to get in during the day, but especially on a place like this, beggars can’t be choosars. We started on the roof just as night fell, taking in the expansive view and watching for any signs of security that could ruin our night (there was none).

One of the few pieces of equipment left behind when Rochester Psychiatric Center moved (to a sprawling two-story campus next door) was the operating room lamp. Probably because the OR got a lot less use with the end of the lobotomy era…

This seemed a lot more sinister than it actually is. Upon further investigation, it’s a steam autoclave for sanitizing dirty scrubs and linens.

No, we didn’t set off some giant alarm. I was just experimenting with a red flashlight.

The basement is much bigger than any other floor of this hospital, or at least seems that way… I suspect the “shelter stops here” sign represents the edge of the building, and the point past which would no longer have protected the inmates (and more importantly in those times, the employees) of the hospital from the Bomb.

That awkward moment when the world is ending and all you want to do is take a shit.

This guy is EVERYWHERE!

And finally we found it: the morgue.

And I didn’t even think to take an autopsy table selfie. I must not be a real UERer.

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