Did a bit of research on Dr. Rivers. He was quite an interesting character apparently, with a very intelligent and inquisitive mind. I'm not well versed in the mysteries of the mind but I do like to play there, so I've taken some license with Rivers' explanation to Anthony of all his troubles. I did base it, however, on the reading I've done on Rivers' work, especially during the war. So I suppose you could say I've sort of fused a bit of the real Dr. Rivers and my plot bunnies together to create the character in my story. It is all a little bit of a stretch but not totally outside the framework of his work. My apologies to him if I've wandered too far from the truth of who he was and what he did.
Happy reading! Please do drop me a line to let me know what you think ;)
Dr. Clarkson arranged to have a small, private sitting room for Anthony to meet with Rivers and once he had introduced the two and was satisfied that Sir Anthony was calm, he excused himself and returned to his other duties. Dr. Rivers, as Clarkson had introduced the Captain, was a slight man, Anthony noticed. And while he didn't appear to be unhealthy, he wasn't a picture of good health either. Anthony watched as the other man's bespectacled eyes surveyed his charts, a twitch of his lips here and a slightly raised eyebrow there, which made Anthony uncomfortable. But he was managing to keep his thoughts under control and not put to much into the other man's responses to his charts. Finally the man set the file down on the table next to him and pushing his spectacles up on his forehead, settled back in his chair to look at Anthony. "You've have quite a record there, Major Strallan."
Anthony sighed. "It matters little to me, since I can't remember much. My only memory of the war is being a prisoner and the torture the Germans employed."
"Yes, so I understand. Do you know what I do, Major Strallan?"
"Do? You… you're a doctor, I'm told."
"Yes, I am. And I've done quite a lot of work in the medical field and trained as a surgeon, but at present I am a psychologist. I'm working at Craiglockhart with officers who have what is commonly called shell shock."
"Yes, Dr. Clarkson thinks I might … that shell shock might explain some of my ... situation."
"How exactly do you see your situation, Major Strallan?"
"Please, can we drop the Major Strallan? The war is almost over and I'm out of it anyway. My name is Anthony Strallan. I'm told I am a baronet, so some refer to me as Sir Anthony. Please call be by any name you wish, but leave off the Major."
"Yes, alright. But you haven't answered my question, Sir Anthony."
Anthony sighed heavily. "I… I don't really know how to answer exactly. I… well, I have no memory before that awful house where the Americans found me. After that it was one hospital after another until I came here. And… well, there is my arm," he said as he waved his good hand over his sling. "Bit of a broken wing, absolutely useless..." He paused and thought a little more. "And sometimes, when things get to be too much, I begin to shake, quite a lot. A few days ago, when I was visiting my sister at our childhood home, there was gunfire and… well, I don't know what happened exactly. I know I dropped to the ground and was shaking and… I heard shelling, gunfire far beyond the farmer shooting at some game. It was as though I was in a battle. If Edith hadn't been there and known how to bring me back to myself, back to where we were, I think I might have lost my mind from the fear of it."
"Edith? She is your sister?"
"No, Agatha is my sister. Edith is… well, we're to be married."
Rivers let a slight frown crease his forehead but then he broke into a warm smile. You're engaged? How delightful. But have do you know the lady, is she a nurse?"
"She… Apparently we knew each other before the war. We were … close, I'm told. Her father is the Earl of Grantham, this is their home. When I was found, I had her picture in my jacket pocket. The picture, the idea that there was someone waiting for me, well, that kept me… sane."
"And so, you came here and the two of you renewed your acquaintance."
"Yes." Anthony waiting to hear an admonishment form the doctor but none came.
"This Edith, she is aware of your problem?"
"Very much aware, Doctor. She seems to be the only one who can truly help me when I'm having an… episode. Dr. Clarkson sometimes gives me a dose of laudanum to calm me, but that's usually only required if she isn't there."
"She is very important to you, then?"
"Yes, she is; but not for that reason. She… well, as I tell her, she is my whole world."
Rivers took a deep breath. "I see." Then smiling again at Anthony, he asked, "how would you feel about expanding your world? Perhaps regaining your memory?"
"You can do that, bring my memory back?"
"I can try to help you do that. And also, I've read your surgeon's report. Sir Anthony, while your shoulder and arm are almost certainly permanently injured, there is no reason for the complete loss of the use of your arm. I believe that some of the paralysis you are suffering in your arm may also be down to the war neuroses."
"I might have my arm back?" Anthony struggled to believe that was possible.
"Not completely, no. It will always be weaker and not agile. But I do believe you should regain some of it, enough to properly hold your Edith, certainly."
Anthony sat, numb for a moment, and then a feeling of joy washed through him. There was hope; he could be useful, not so crippled after all. And he might remember those afternoons with Edith that she recalled so fondly. "And my shaking episodes?"
"I believe we can help you learn to manage those too," Rivers replied.
"But how?" Anthony was incredulous. How was it possible that so many of his ills could be cured, or at least managed?
"I have developed what is called by others a talking cure. I work form the idea that by talking we can bring repressed memories into the light of your consciousness and rid those things which your mind wishes to forget of their power. I spend most of my days simply talking with patients and listening. It's a process I've called autogonosis. We start with a retraining of sorts, teaching you about the basics of psychology and physiology to give you an understanding of why your mind and body have reacted as they have. Then we'll contrive ways to overcome the unwanted patterns and thus free you or at least help you adjust to the illness."
"Retrain?" Anthony didn't quite comprehend what the doctor was saying.
"Yes. Did you know that there are far more officers suffering from war neuroses than the regular men, about four officers for every man?"
"There are?"
"Yes, I believe it is down to two things. First, most officers come from the higher classes, where men are trained from the cradle to repress many of their instincts in order to be proper gentlemen. So repression of emotions, like fear, becomes ingrained. These officers come upon situations that are so far beyond what we consider normal in civilized society, that it overwhelms their ability to manage it all. Memories get shoved to the back of the mind and locked away. We've seen more amnesia cases among the officers than the men. Also, officers believe they must repress their feelings to be proper role models for their men. Mustn't let the men see fear in their leaders."
"I…. I think I understand what you are telling me. You think I've repressed something I saw in France and in so, locked away all my memories?"
"Yes, I do. I'll add that since you've lost all memory, I believe it was more than one event, that perhaps there were many and your mind reached a point where it just couldn't process it all."
"But that doesn't explain my arm…. Or my shaking."
"I'm am not absolutely certain that your arm is part of it, but I think it probably is. Paralysis is very common among neuroses patients; a physical response of self-preservation. They can't send you back if your arm doesn't work. As for the shaking, I can't be sure what is the cause but again, quite common. For you, my instinct tells me that your memory is trying to resurface but your mind isn't ready for it, so you shake."
"And you think you can fix this?"
"I can't promise that we will fix this; it will take your effort more than mine. And I won't lie to you, you may never completely recover. However, I think with some effort, your life can be much more manageable."
"But only if I go to Craiglockhart?"
"For now, yes. I'll be there awhile longer but once the war is truly over and a doctor is found to replace me there, I'll be mustered out. I've been offered a fellowship at Cambridge and will relocate there. If you feel our work is helping you, then you could follow me there."
"My sister lives in Cambridge," Anthony said quietly as his mind pondered the information.
"Oh?"
"Yes, her husband, Alistair, is at Cambridge."
"Alistair? Is he an academic?"
"Um, no. He does something with finances."
"Alistair Chetwood then. He is your brother-in-law?"
"Yes, his wife is my sister."
"Yes, I've met them. Alistair is a corker when he gets away from his office."
"I…. I wouldn't know," Anthony said sadly.
"No, of course not. But in time, even if your memory doesn't return, you'll see it too I'm sure."
Not caring to dwell on his sister, Anthony asked, "When would I need to go to Craiglockhart?"
"You could travel with me, if Dr. Clarkson is ready to release you from here."
"So soon?" Anthony felt panic rising in his chest. "I… I need to speak with Edith."
"Of course. I'll stay the night and we'll travel tomorrow. I can't stay away longer than that, or I would, simply to give you more time with your Edith."
"I appreciate your situation, Doctor. And I haven't promised to go with you, although I am interested in all that you have described. As I said, I must speak with Edith."
The two men parted genially. Dr. Rivers went in search of Dr. Clarkson while Anthony went in search of Edith.
