Jerking the door wide open, James Butler burst into my room. “Your door is to stay open at all times during the day. Only at night can it be closed, and then, staff will make periodic checks on you. Understand?”
“Yes sir,” I replied a bit startled.
“All right, Simon, it’s time for your first therapy session with Doctor Lerner,” he said as he swiftly passed back into the corridor. Following, James led me back to the small office where I was originally processed.
“Wait in here,” he said, disappearing down the hall.
Sitting down, I looked up to see Doctor Lerner entering the room. She was tall I thought for a black woman, somewhere around five feet ten inches, I’d say, maybe taller. At first glance she looked to be in her early forties. A rather large, full-figured woman; close to two hundred thirty pounds or more. Dark-brown eyes, and long shiny black hair done up in fancy gold braids. She wore a pink blouse, and black slacks with a black suede jacket. Very stylish with low-heeled shoes to match. Even her briefcase was a polished jet black. Her fingernails were painted with glittery gold polish to match her braids.
Overall, she emerged into the room in a quite professional manner, yet I found the nail polish a bit much. Very tranquil, very nurturing, and non-threatening she came across to me.
Her soft, gentle voice gave the feeling of self-confidence as she spoke. “Simon, it’s my pleasure to meet you. I’m Doctor Linda Lerner,” she said extending her right hand.
Such a simple gesture came across as serene and graceful. I reached out and shook her large, yet very soft hand. “Ah, it’s nice to meet you too,” I said, trying to be polite.
“This office is so small; shall we go to the group therapy room? We’ll be much more comfortable there. Since you’re the only one here, we have it all to ourselves. Is that all right with you, Simon?”
Pausing for a moment, “Ah, I thought there was another patient here till noon?”
“She was released early, so you’re the only one for now,” she replied with a broad smile. We headed for the therapy room. Entering, she closed the door behind us.
“Please, have a seat on the sofa,” she said, motioning toward the one in the center of the large room. She sat down, placing her briefcase on her lap as I too sat down. Removing a small cassette recorder, she placed the device between us.
“Did the RN explain the ‘doctor/patient’ form to you earlier?” she asked.
“Yes, he did.”
“And do you fully comprehend what he explained, Simon?”
“Sure,” I said, even though I wasn’t really sure. I didn’t want to seem stupid to her.
“Very well then, let me just say that all of our sessions together will be recorded, and Doctor Crawford, or who we refer to as Father Andy, we will be reviewing these tapes as time passes. No one else will have access or be allowed to listen to the tapes. I keep them locked away in my private office.”
“Fine with me.” I wasn’t sure if she was making a statement or seeking some kind of response from me.
Pressing the record button on her machine, “This is Doctor Lerner, primary caregiver for Simon Lee Teel, patient number 222-77. This is our first session together.” She eased back onto the sofa, getting comfortable.
“Simon, I’d like to begin by discussing your early childhood years. Can you recall any special events that had an impact on your life back then?”
“Well, I’m not sure where to start.” I was a little flushed.
“I want you to do something for me, take a deep breath and hold it for the count of seven, and then let it out. Can you do that for me, Simon?”
I nodded my head, and slowly drew in a deep breath, and counted slowly to seven in my head. Expelling the air in my lungs at the end of count seven, I felt calmer, a bit more relaxed.
“Now, just begin anywhere you wish.” She spoke softly, as if soothing a troubled child.
“Ah, well, as a young boy I remember living out in the country. Riding my bike through the woods, and playin’ down by the creek that ran behind our old house...”
“Simon, please tell me what you recall concerning your grade school years.”
“Ah, I loved recess, playin’ tag with the other boys out on the school yard. I could run fast, like a wild deer back then.”
“Were you close to any of your playmates,” she asked.
“No, not at school, I was very shy then. But I had a friend who came, and played with me at home.”
“Tell me about your friend,” she said pulling out a large notebook. She began to take written notes now.
“Well, he was a young Indian boy, looked to be Apache. He usually showed up when I was worried, especially if it had something to do with school. I hated school; only thing I liked was lunch, and recess, that was it. I was just so shy, everyone intimidated me.”
“Was the Apache boy real, or was he your imaginary friend?” she asked.
“He was real to me.”
“How did he help you when you were worried?”
“I’d be out in the field behind our house crying, and he’d appear, and ask what was bothering me. I’d tell him, and he’s suggest how to deal with whatever it was, then we’d go play in the woods till dark. Then I’d go home.”
“Are you still in contact with your Apache friend?”
“No, I was probably about ten the last time I saw him.”
Doctor Lerner seemed to be watching my facial expressions, “Why did you stop speaking to him?”
“My mother called me in for supper one evening, and told me she didn’t want me playin’ in the woods so late. I made the mistake of tellin’ her it was all right because of my friend. She demanded to know who he was, so I told her about him. She laughed at me, and told me never to speak to him again. Said it was crazy to believe in such things. Said they’d come lock me up in the nut house. He never came around after that.”
“Simon, as a young boy, did you ever harm or mistreat any animals?” She had no tone in her voice of accusation. I felt comfortable talking to her.
“I remember my first BB gun I got for my ninth birthday. I ended up shooting a robin that was perched high up in an old persimmon tree. When it fell, it flopped around a minute or so before it died. I don’t know why, but I started crying. I buried it in a shoebox in the field behind our house. I made a cross out of my mother’s old wooden clothes pins. I felt bad for several days after that.” I said, looking down at the floor. A brief moment of shame came over me.
“James Butler, the RN, wrote in your chart that you suffer from two phobias. Do you know why you have a fear of public restrooms?”
“Yes, I was in third grade. At school, I had to crap really bad, so I went to the restroom, and the stalls didn’t have any privacy doors, so I went all the way down to the last stall. Two older boys came in and found me. They started pointing, and laughing at me. I was so embarrassed. After that, I’d wait until I got home from school. I never went into the restrooms again.”
“Did you overcome that fear?” she asked politely.
“I use public restrooms now, as long as the stalls have privacy doors, but if there are a lot of people in there, I wait, and go later.”
“Simon, can you tell me of your fear of heights?”
“I was playing at a friend’s house. I was about twelve I think. We were up in the bed of his dad’s pick-up truck playing. I lost my balance, and fell backward over the side. I landed flat on my back, knocking the wind out of me. When I couldn’t catch my breath, I panicked, and jumped on my bike, pedaling as fast as I could for home. By the time I reached home I had stopped crying, and was breathing normally again, but I’ve been afraid of high places ever since.”
“Your mother Nora came to see me earlier. She provided me with a couple of items; one pertaining to grade school, and the other one deals with your high school period. I’ve read over these two papers, and I would like to get your thoughts concerning them. If, that’s okay with you?”
“What papers?” I asked, a bit hesitant. God only knows what stuff my mother kept from my school days. I’m sure whatever it was, I would be embarrassed by it.
Shuffling around in her briefcase, she produced the two items, and handed them to me.
“The top one is an English assignment you wrote while in the seventh grade, which you titled, ‘True Love.’ Simon, I’d like for you to read over it to refresh your memory, and then we can discuss it.”