Part 3
A little over six months before his meeting with Dr. Heilmann, Dennis was admitted to the Borehamwood Institute. Not long after his twenty-third birthday, his care entrusted to Dr. Marcus Beck, head of the institute; he'd been referred to Borehamwood by his previous psychiatrist, a Dr. Christopher Van Bremen, following several psychotic, sometimes violent, and as yet unexplained episodes; Dennis had a pathological fear of being touched, and seemed to suffer acute pain from physical contact with any living creature. Dr. Van Bremen had been able to offer no explanation for this, and despite his best efforts, it seemed Dennis' condition was deteriorating.
Whilst not officially committed, it was agreed that without proper treatment Dennis may have proven a danger to himself and to others. He was asked by both Drs. Beck and Van Bremen to voluntarily admit himself to the Institute. It took only moments for Dennis to agree.
On their first meeting, soon after Dennis' arrival, Dr. Beck offered him his hand; Dennis simply shook his head and took his seat. It wasn't until two months had passed that Dr. Beck found a logical reason for this - it seemed Dennis had been abused as a child. His parents had divorced when he was nine, and shortly following his father's move to Seattle, his mother had remarried. His stepbrother - the twenty-one-year-old son of his stepfather from his first marriage - was the one who abused him. And he didn't mind talking about it. Dennis answered every one of Dr. Beck's questions honestly. He told him what his stepbrother had done to him, how often, for how long, even how it made him feel. The childhood sexual abuse had to be at the heart of Dennis' condition.
Yet Dennis insisted that it wasn't. And if he were honest with himself, Dr. Beck knew that Dennis' attitude toward his past abuse suggested that whilst indeed traumatic, it had not had as destructive an effect on his personality as one might expect. Dennis was at peace with his past. And once Dr. Beck admitted that, he was back to square one.
Beck found himself frustrated for the first time in his professional career. He could find no psychological basis for Dennis' psychosis, and that failure plagued him to the point where he was finally willing to call in a psychiatrist from outside the Institute. But that didn't happen.
As Dennis was leaving Dr. Beck's office after their session one afternoon, he tripped and fell. Instinctively, Beck moved to aid him, hoping to help him upright by his arm. That didn't happen.
Dennis froze under his hand. And then he shook. Then he moaned, then murmured something. Dr. Beck tried to move him onto his back - it seemed like he could lapse into a seizure at any moment. But he didn't. Dennis stared up at him, his eyes wide.
"What is it, Dennis?" Beck asked, his hands moving to his shoulders.
"Get the fuck off of me!" Dennis screamed, scrambling away, cowering back against the wall.
Beck jerked away in surprised. He had, of course read Dr. Van Bremen's notes, and so he should have been prepared for Dennis' reaction, but in two months he had seen no physical manifestation of Dennis' fears. Until that moment.
"It's all right, Dennis", Beck told him, kneeling down beside him. "How do you feel?"
"Like I stepped in front of a fucking freight train", came the reply, as Dennis rubbed circles over his temples. "Dr. Van Bremen used to give me pills for this. They helped".
Beck shifted his weight and Dennis flinched. Beck shook his head slowly. "Don't worry, I'm not going to touch you again", he told him, standing, heading back to his seat. "But Dennis, I'm sorry, I can't prescribe your medication until I'm sure of your condition".
Dennis nodded. "Yeah, I know", he muttered, pulling himself to his feet. "I'm gonna go now, okay? I, I can't handle this right now. Okay?"
Beck nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow, Dennis".
The door opened, but instead of leaving the room, Dennis turned to the doctor.
"You spend too much time here, Dr. Beck", he said, leaning against the doorframe, his head cocked to one side. "Did you forget your wife's making dinner tonight?"
Beck tried to say something. But before he could force out the words, Dennis had left the room. That was the moment that it first occurred to Dr. Beck that there was something else at work - something that he wasn't sure psychiatry could explain.
He'd never even told Dennis that he was married, let alone that his family was waiting at home. His daughter had got her acceptance letter for Yale pre-law and to celebrate his wife was making lasagne, their favourite.
***
A little over six months before his meeting with Dr. Heilmann, Dennis was admitted to the Borehamwood Institute. Not long after his twenty-third birthday, his care entrusted to Dr. Marcus Beck, head of the institute; he'd been referred to Borehamwood by his previous psychiatrist, a Dr. Christopher Van Bremen, following several psychotic, sometimes violent, and as yet unexplained episodes; Dennis had a pathological fear of being touched, and seemed to suffer acute pain from physical contact with any living creature. Dr. Van Bremen had been able to offer no explanation for this, and despite his best efforts, it seemed Dennis' condition was deteriorating.
Whilst not officially committed, it was agreed that without proper treatment Dennis may have proven a danger to himself and to others. He was asked by both Drs. Beck and Van Bremen to voluntarily admit himself to the Institute. It took only moments for Dennis to agree.
On their first meeting, soon after Dennis' arrival, Dr. Beck offered him his hand; Dennis simply shook his head and took his seat. It wasn't until two months had passed that Dr. Beck found a logical reason for this - it seemed Dennis had been abused as a child. His parents had divorced when he was nine, and shortly following his father's move to Seattle, his mother had remarried. His stepbrother - the twenty-one-year-old son of his stepfather from his first marriage - was the one who abused him. And he didn't mind talking about it. Dennis answered every one of Dr. Beck's questions honestly. He told him what his stepbrother had done to him, how often, for how long, even how it made him feel. The childhood sexual abuse had to be at the heart of Dennis' condition.
Yet Dennis insisted that it wasn't. And if he were honest with himself, Dr. Beck knew that Dennis' attitude toward his past abuse suggested that whilst indeed traumatic, it had not had as destructive an effect on his personality as one might expect. Dennis was at peace with his past. And once Dr. Beck admitted that, he was back to square one.
Beck found himself frustrated for the first time in his professional career. He could find no psychological basis for Dennis' psychosis, and that failure plagued him to the point where he was finally willing to call in a psychiatrist from outside the Institute. But that didn't happen.
As Dennis was leaving Dr. Beck's office after their session one afternoon, he tripped and fell. Instinctively, Beck moved to aid him, hoping to help him upright by his arm. That didn't happen.
Dennis froze under his hand. And then he shook. Then he moaned, then murmured something. Dr. Beck tried to move him onto his back - it seemed like he could lapse into a seizure at any moment. But he didn't. Dennis stared up at him, his eyes wide.
"What is it, Dennis?" Beck asked, his hands moving to his shoulders.
"Get the fuck off of me!" Dennis screamed, scrambling away, cowering back against the wall.
Beck jerked away in surprised. He had, of course read Dr. Van Bremen's notes, and so he should have been prepared for Dennis' reaction, but in two months he had seen no physical manifestation of Dennis' fears. Until that moment.
"It's all right, Dennis", Beck told him, kneeling down beside him. "How do you feel?"
"Like I stepped in front of a fucking freight train", came the reply, as Dennis rubbed circles over his temples. "Dr. Van Bremen used to give me pills for this. They helped".
Beck shifted his weight and Dennis flinched. Beck shook his head slowly. "Don't worry, I'm not going to touch you again", he told him, standing, heading back to his seat. "But Dennis, I'm sorry, I can't prescribe your medication until I'm sure of your condition".
Dennis nodded. "Yeah, I know", he muttered, pulling himself to his feet. "I'm gonna go now, okay? I, I can't handle this right now. Okay?"
Beck nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow, Dennis".
The door opened, but instead of leaving the room, Dennis turned to the doctor.
"You spend too much time here, Dr. Beck", he said, leaning against the doorframe, his head cocked to one side. "Did you forget your wife's making dinner tonight?"
Beck tried to say something. But before he could force out the words, Dennis had left the room. That was the moment that it first occurred to Dr. Beck that there was something else at work - something that he wasn't sure psychiatry could explain.
He'd never even told Dennis that he was married, let alone that his family was waiting at home. His daughter had got her acceptance letter for Yale pre-law and to celebrate his wife was making lasagne, their favourite.
***