A Slice of Life

Part eight


Psychoanalysis is that mental illness for which it regards itself as therapy.
––Karl Krauss


Talk Therapy:

"None of it happened, Carl." the psychiatrist said with finality.

"You can not do this – take a man's past and dismiss it with a wave of your hand!"

"Yes I can, Carl. This is my office and you are a mental patient in my care. Is this not so? I think I'm in a bit better position than you to tell what is real and what is rot." He waited for a response, but the patient only sat silently, staring off to the corner. "Carl, you have lost contact with the real world."

"How do you know?" he asked quietly.

"Do you see the evidence of your raging?"

His vibrato deflated."Well, that part's kind of hard to dispute..."

"You are not sane. When you accept this, we work together and we do make progress. When you're stubborn and fight me, we languish. Your progress this past week is very encouraging. Let's keep it going!"

His patient said nothing.


ooooooo


Early the next morning, the sun did not make it past the grey clouds. The television droned in the background. A few patients sat quietly, staring in its general direction. Kolchak sat at the far end of the Day Room in his mushy-yellow robe fighting depression silently.

He was loosing the battle.

Danny sat across from him, his sketch book open, and made pains-takingly careful lines in it with a No.2 pencil.

Loud yelling was heard from the direction of the Safe Room.


ooooooo


The next day, Kolchak came-to with a feeling of claustrophobia. He was sitting against the padded wall, his arms held in place around his torso by long sleeves that were buckled in the back. "Oh." he said to no-one. His throat was as dry as two-day-old toast.

The door swung open, and an orderly entered cautiously. "Carl? It's Murphy," he said, unscrewing the cap on the water bottle and holding it up to his lips for him to drink. The patient drank gratefully. After half a bottle, he came up for air and Murphy turned his attention to the buckles. "What do you remember, Champ? Anything?"

The world pulled itself into focus. "Um... yes. I still have... all the way back to last Sunday. Minus the black-outs during the raging. I do!"

Murphy's grin lit up the small room. He pulled the bulky vest off the front. "That Dr. Harrelson has finally hit on the right treatment. Listen to everything he says, Carl! He is helping you."


ooooooo


"–– but as it sped toward me, I lobbed the skull into its chest. Bullseye; you would have been proud of my arm, kid."

Danny was swaying with excitement at the story, although he'd heard it many times before. "What happened when it hit?"

"Well, it all kind of disintegrated. Once the skull had contact with it, the bones lost their cohesion and fell like 'dem dry bones' off the bike–– which careened, driverless, into the crates to the left of me..."

He paused, suddenly thoughtful. "––or not... if Dr. Harrelson is right... "


ooooooo


"Murphy, what would happen if I didn't take these pills this morning?"

"I'd get in trouble. Come on, bottoms's up."

"No, I mean what would happen to me? How would things look different to me?"

"I'm not a Doc, Carl."

"But I haven't seen any Vampires here have I? Maybe I've out-grown the need for them..."

"Nobody knows what you see when you're raging, Champ."

Kolchak considered this for a while, then downed the pills.


ooooooo


"–– Describe Crouch to me Did he have a high forehead? Sunken cheeks?" Danny asked, staring at the floor.

A scream came from down the hall.

"Describe him? Hmm. Remember, all this happened in the dark, by star- and moon-light. I'm not sure..." Kolchak sat next to him, pondering. He cocked his head to the side. "Huh. Have you ever noticed whenever we two are here talking, somebody is in the Safe Room?"


ooooooo


Talk Therapy:

"I've heard the word 'contagious' whispered behind my back. What's that about?"

Dr Harrelson shook his head, "Ignore that nonsense. There is no such thing as a contagious psychosis."

"What do they mean by it?"

"It's just the coincidence of the timing. You see, you were here with your particular form of raging for a good four years without peer. Then these past 14 months, other patients have, one at a time, developed... similar raging episodes. There are seven at present count..." he frowned to himself. "Now, their challenges have nothing to do with you, and you must not listen to the inevitable gossip or feel in any way responsible."

Kolchak sat quietly, contemplating this. "Can you help the other patients?"

"Each patient here is being helped to manage their challenges to be able to re-integrate back into society, if possible."

"And if that isn't possible?" he asked, delicately.

"Then the staff here has the responsibility to keep them safe for the duration of their natural lives."