Chapter 20
"The doctor will see you now," said the woman behind the reception desk to the twenty-five year old man with short blond hair and hazel eyes.
"Thank you, ma'am. I can use a doctor."
John Johnson-Angelo greeted his patient as reassuringly as he could. The young man had lost his first-born child just a few weeks ago due to a high fever. John had done everything he could. As soon as he saw the child he rushed him off to emergency but it was too late. A viral infection that could have been treated earlier was not, and the little girl died.
"How are things, Rob? I'm sure it's still a struggle."
"Yes, it is, Doctor. I've been better, that's for sure."
"And your wife?"
"Well, she's trying to be very strong but it's certainly taken a toll on her as well. Doctor, I 'm here because I'm very depressed and I don't know where else to turn. Is there some kind of pill you can give me?"
"What you're experiencing, Rob, is reactive depression--a normal response to a trauma. It's going to take a lot of time to pass through the mourning period and adjust to life without your daughter. Mourn in your own way--be quiet, be nosey, read, hike, sleep, and try to keep your life as normal as possible."
"How long will it take, Doc?"
"It's different for everyone, Rob, and each person mourns differently. Some people get quiet, some people won't stop talking about the situation, some people lose themselves in reading or work, some people eat, some people sleep. What do you do, Rob?"
AI'm not sure what I do; all I know is I feel like I want to get even with fate, God, luck, chance, whatever or whoever it was that caused this."
"Do you have a clergy-person you can talk to, Rob?"
"I think religion is extremely important but I guess you'd say I'm in a kind of transition right now. At this point I just let religion kind of be religion, and I do business as I need to do it."
"I'm not sure what you mean by all that, Rob."
"I'm not real sure what I mean by it either, Doc. Can't you just give me some medicine to take?"
"Well, there are medications and if you really want it I can give you something, but that's like putting a Band-Aid on a broken leg. Your kind of depression is not based on biology but is based on a painful life experience. I'll write out this prescription for something mild, take it as directed, try to get some exercise, and try to process this with someone. In fact I have a good friend who is a very fine clinical psychologist as well as a deeply spiritual person. Maybe you'd want to talk with him."
"Yeah, Doc, I think that might do it. That might be the way to go.@
ALet me speak with him first, Rob, and see if I can set things up. He's a very busy man. And then I'll get back with you. He can also monitor your response to the medication I give you. About eighty per cent of psychotropic medications are prescribed at the advice of psychologists. They are in the front lines and are often well trained in psychopharmacology and make excellent recommendations and observations. How does all of that sit with you?"
"Perfect, Doc. You are a life saver. I hope that I'm not out of line by saying that I'm especially grateful to you because I know that you are dealing with the loss of your wife at this time. You are a very credible person to advise me about grief."
Chantal soaked in a bathtub full of bubbles and sipped a large iced tea. She had a mountain of paper work to do but knew she deserved this rest and that if she didn't take care of herself she would be no good for anyone else. Underneath the main theme of the murders in her life these days was the sub-theme of David Gold. He certainly had charisma and strength. She liked those qualities in a man. There was also a tenderness there, and once in a while a little vulnerability slipped through. Why wasn't she letting herself feel her feelings about Dave? She sat with that question for a while and the information seemed to surface, just the same way the bubbles did from the water. Francis appeared in her mind's eye. He was spoken for and she knew it. She had also clearly reconciled herself a long time ago to the platonic relationship that they enjoyed. Was this some type of regression? Maybe it had to do with the intensity of their work of late. It was like a flashback to internship days.
This life and death stuff and the various religious ceremonies associated with things were also stirring up some deep archetypal feelings of God and the Church and her spiritual life. Why did she continue to pray spontaneously and ask for guidance and help when she didn't even know if she believed? Why were so many of her friends so deeply religious, including Dave?
Across town a weary detective was staring at a TV screen and absorbing none of it. His mind was filled with Chantal. What was the resistance within him to her presence in his life all about? Was it some excessive type of loyalty that the adult child of an alcoholic often manifests? His wife was gravely ill and had divorced him. Wasn't he free yet? What was the probability of something like that happening again? Besides, he and Chantal are different religions. He's Jewish and she's agnostic, if that's a religion. He loved his Jewish roots and yet was strangely attracted to the contemplative side of the way Francis was living. There's a whole history of mysticism in Judaism. Maybe it's about time he took a closer look at that.