Chapter 41
Three weeks later...
"Aha! I think today is the day, Tim!" Dr. Westhouse announced as he ushered Tim to the scales.
"What's so special about today?" Tim asked. He had become more solemn although he'd rallied from his recent emotional trough.
"We're going to move up in the world. Get on the scale and let's see if I'm right."
Tim smiled a little and stepped on the scale.
"Okay. Fifty..." The indicator said that wasn't enough. "One hundred." Still too light. "Here's the big moment, Tim. Are you ready?"
For a moment, Dr. Westhouse wasn't sure if Tim would react at all, but then he dredged up what must be a shadow of his former smile.
"Bring it on."
"We were almost there last time, but then you lost some ground. So...here we go." Dramatically, he moved the slide to 150. It wasn't heavy enough. "Yes! You've broken the 150 mark, Tim!"
"By how much?"
"Let's see." He moved the smaller slide over...and over...and over. "One hundred fifty four pounds, Tim. That's excellent."
"And in order to be normal?"
"You're within the normal range now. I'd say that you could still stand to gain a few more pounds, but you're no longer in danger of physical breakdown; so if you'd prefer to remain at this weight, that's fine...but you need to watch yourself and not let yourself lose again. This is a respectable weight, but with your build, I'd say that you want to stay here and not go lower. No more intentionally starving yourself. You are not allowed."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Good. Tim, wait."
Tim had been about to leave.
"What?"
Dr. Westhouse pulled out a couple of sheets.
"I want to show you something before you go."
"What?"
"Are you familiar with what a normal heartbeat looks like? Normal respiration?"
"Not exactly. I've...I've seen people on monitors before. I've seen my own stats before."
"Okay." He gave a sheet to Tim to look at. "These are all the details from a person in good health. This is what we like to see when we examine someone. Good heart rate, good respiration, blood pressure. This is a person who has been taking good care of themselves and it shows. Now, this person was slightly overweight, but they were still in good health." He pulled out another sheet. "Here are your vitals from today. See how close you are to the same standard? ...just a lot lighter."
Dr. Westhouse watched as Tim perused the chart, his eyes flicking back and forth from his own details to the chart he'd pulled.
"Yes, I see."
"Okay, now...this is from your first physical, from the day you checked in." He pulled out the last sheet and watched as Tim's eyes scanned over it and then widened slightly. "You had poor respiration, your blood pressure was too high, your heart rate was high and irregular. You were headed for a breakdown. Every test showed someone in extremely poor health, someone who had been pushed to the limits. Your body can't take that kind of stress and it had been ongoing. Do you know whose chart I showed you first?"
Tim shook his head, still comparing the details. His mind was engaged on what Dr. Westhouse was showing him.
"The first chart...is yours."
Tim's eyes moved up.
"Mine?"
"Yes, from about three years ago. That's what your body was like. ...and thankfully, it can be again...if you'll let it. Tim, you're here to treat your mind, but your mind can't recover if you neglect and abuse your body. Remember that. When one suffers, both do." He patted Tim on the back and opened the door. "When you leave here...you won't have people watching you to make sure you do what you're supposed to do. You know what needs to happen, Tim. Stop punishing yourself and let all of you heal."
Tim gave him a startled look. "I thought you were just a doctor."
"I am...but I'm surrounded by shrinks all day. I pick stuff up."
Tim smiled. "Thanks, Dr. Westhouse."
"You're welcome. Now...go gain a few more pounds, okay?"
"I thought you said I didn't have to."
"You don't. ...but do it anyway. It's better for you."
Tim stared down the hallway for a few moments and then nodded. "Okay. Okay, Doc."
"Good man."
"I'm trying to be," he said softly and walked away.
Dr. Westhouse watched him go and nodded to himself. Then, he walked into the other examination room.
"Patsy, how nice to have you grace my presence once again! Let's see how the stitches are coming along, all right?"
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"How's it going, Tim?" Dr. Lewis asked.
Tim shrugged.
"That good, huh?"
"No more secrets to tell. No more yelling. No more of the guilt...at least nothing that you don't already know about. ...It's like...like after I took that ecstasy pill and nearly killed myself doing it. I just felt empty. That's how I feel now." Tim looked up. "How am I supposed to feel?"
"Supposed to feel?" Dr. Lewis repeated. "You're not supposed to feel anything in particular. Everyone deals with these kinds of problems in their own ways. This...numbness?"
Tim nodded.
"This numbness is natural. You've been operating on a high level of emotional stress for a very long time, Tim. I'd wager that you didn't really have any downtime from the moment you got your assignment. You were dealing with all this crap on your own and that put an extra layer of stress on you. Now, you're not dealing with it on your own. You've been getting help. The release from what you had come to expect is naturally going to seem empty in comparison. What you need to do now is start filling it up with positive things."
"Like what?"
"Like life, Tim. ...and you're not going to find life in here. You've been here for over four months. That's a long time for this place. We don't normally admit patients for more than a month or two. We have a few special cases...like yourself...but the goal is not to get you to live here. It's to prepare you to live out there. That's what you need to do next. You need to start living, Tim."
"I'm not ready."
"Not completely, but you know that we don't just kick you out and say good luck. There's a long process...but it's one I think you're ready for."
"I...I don't feel ready," Tim said, feeling his throat tighten. "I still have nightmares sometimes. I'm still angry. I have...have those flashbacks sometimes. I still..."
"Yes, you do...and that's okay, Tim. You're allowed to feel angry. You're allowed to have nightmares and flashbacks as you continue to deal with everything."
"Do you really think I can go?"
"Yes."
"Shouldn't I be more confident?"
"Of course, you should," Dr. Lewis said. "I'm the shrink who's telling you that you're ready. You should believe everything I say."
Tim laughed softly.
"Seriously, though, Tim. You need to figure out who you'll be staying with."
"What do you mean?"
"You're not ready for being by yourself. What will happen is that you'll still spend most of every day here in therapy with us and then you'll spend the evening and night away from here. You need to have someone with you overnight, just in case. It can be one of your friends, your family...but you do need to stay around here so we can continue your therapy. We'll do the outpatient thing for a few weeks, see how you're doing and then hopefully cut it back to daily sessions with me and then weekly. It's a long process, but getting out of the hospital is a huge step."
"Gargantuan," Tim whispered.
Dr. Lewis smiled at the whistling in the dark Tim was doing. The fear had always been lurking just beneath the hatred and anger. Tim had still refused any suggestion of speaking with his former coworkers, but the intense hatred had faded even if his anger and resentment hadn't disappeared. Tim was still very tense with every mention of them as he said. He even avoided their names. As traumatic as the operation had been, Dr. Lewis was firmly convinced that the worst part of it had not been everything Tim had been forced to do but the total abandonment he had felt from his team. The complete lack of support when he had desperately needed it...and known he needed it...that was the hardest thing for him to accept and would take the longest to solve.
He was just glad that they had the time. He was certain that Tim would be dead at this point if they hadn't been able to get him to accept help.
"Tim, will you trust me?" he asked now.
"I trust you."
"Okay. Then, trust me when I say you're ready for this step."
"When?"
"Two weeks."
"So soon?"
"That will put you at nearly five months here. It will give you a chance to figure out where you'll stay, how you'll get to and from here, all the logistics."
"I have a car."
"I think that we should hold off on you driving for the first couple of weeks."
"Why?"
"You'll more than likely experience an increase in the nightmares and flashbacks when you first leave. This is not because of weakness on your part but because of the stress of facing the world again, even in a limited capacity. Accept that it's going to happen and they'll likely be more muted and more short-lived than they would be otherwise."
Tim nodded, but the fear was in his eyes.
"Tim, you can do this. You can."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I don't have any doubt."
"It's funny. It took me almost dying to get me to listen to Ducky when he told me I needed to come here. Now, I don't want to leave."
"Coming here was necessary. ...but leaving is also necessary. Both pieces are important for complete recovery. Will you take the next step?"
Tim looked down and then up at the ceiling...and finally at Dr. Lewis.
"Okay. I'll leave."
