I'm still not sure exactly where I'm headed with this, but at least BJ is doing better!
Not mine, don't own.
"So, BJ, tell me what life was like when you first came back from Korea." Sidney Freedman tapped his pen against the blank pad of paper in his lap and waited for his patient to speak.
The two men sat facing each other - one in a comfortable, overstuffed chair and the other on a small sofa covered in soft pillows - in a pleasant, homey office in downtown Portland, Maine. The furnishings were tastefully done in muted natural colors: forest green, sky blue, cinnamon, pecan. A few potted plants and a fish tank completed the decor. Sidney approved of the overall look, even if he thought it was a bit overdone.
Sidney's primary office was in New York City, along with the rest of his life, but he'd befriended some psychiatrists in Portland who also worked with war veterans. They often compared notes about their experiences, and were considering writing a book together. And when he'd told them - in the vaguest possible terms, of course - about Hawkeye, they were kind enough to loan him their office space whenever he was in town.
"I don't know what you want me to say, Sidney." The man before him sitting with his hands twisting nervously between his knees was not the BJ Hunnicutt that Sidney remembered from Korea. Where was the confident practical joker, the skilled surgeon, the devoted husband and father?
Even after Hawkeye's frantic phone calls about his best friend and war buddy, Sidney was not prepared for the changes in BJ: extreme weight loss, pallor, a twitchy nervousness, slumped shoulders. A ring of healing, brownish bruises was barely visible around one eye. BJ's condition both fascinated and alarmed Sidney in equal measures. What had gone wrong? Of all of the members of the 4077 that Sidney might have expected to find on his couch, this man had not been one of them.
"Why don't you start at the beginning? What happened after you landed in San Francisco?"
"Well, things were perfect then," BJ said. The faint smile he gave Sidney held a fraction of the mirth of his usual grin.
When his patient didn't continue, Sidney prompted, "How so? What was so perfect?"
"It was everything I'd ever dreamed of back in Korea," BJ said, warming to his topic. He leaned back on the sofa pillows. "Erin toddled up to me and held her arms out and I got to hold her. Peg wrapped her arms around the two of us." He closed his eyes, smiling at the memory. "I knew that I was in exactly the right place, and I was home." BJ opened his eyes and swallowed hard. Sidney noted the unshed tears.
"And then what happened?"
It was like watching a book slam shut. "We went back to Mill Valley." BJ folded his arms and studied the floor.
"And things weren't perfect?"
"They never are, are they?" BJ replied.
"So, how'd it go? Can you help him?"
The animated man now sitting across from Sidney was in sharp contrast to his previous patient. Hawkeye practically vibrated emotions, leaning into Sidney's personal space, and the psychiatrist had to take a mental step back to maintain his professional distance.
"Hawkeye, you know I can't speak with you about another patient's condition." Sidney doodled a stop sign on his pad of paper.
"You did before!" Hawkeye insisted.
"That was before I was treating BJ. There's a reason psychiatrists rarely treat more than one member of the same household." He added an exclamation point to his doodle.
Hawkeye slumped over on the loveseat, elbows on his knees, unknowingly copying BJ's earlier posture. "I'm scared, Sidney."
"Why?"
"I almost lost him, and I didn't even know it." Hawkeye stood, walked to the window, and looked out at downtown Portland. "I know how to treat the body, but I have no idea how to care for the mind." He turned to look at Sidney, distress clear on his face. "I don't know what I'm doing, Sidney! What if I make him worse?"
The psychiatrist gave him a kind smile. "Hawkeye, you are not responsible for BJ's emotional state. You need to focus on taking care of yourself."
"How can I?" Hawkeye threw his hands in the air. "Before BJ landed on my doorstep, my biggest concern was whether to knit Dad a pair of mittens or another sweater!" His blue eyes filled with anguish. "How does that compare to anything BJ is going through right now? It's not real. Nothing in my life feels real except his pain."
"Is your father's life less real since BJ arrived?"
Hawkeye blinked. "Of course not."
"So why is your life only real when you are experiencing or sharing pain and distress? Hawkeye, life is full of enough pain and sorrow without focusing all of your attention there. The simple pleasures of life matter too, and they often go by unnoticed." He paused before adding, "I would go so far as to say things that bring us joy are even more real than things that bring us sorrow."
"What about people who bring you both?"
Sidney gave him another fond smile. "Those are our loved ones." He let the smile slide away before adding, "Hawkeye, when you love an addict, there's a real danger of you losing sight of yourself."
"But I'm an addict too!"
"Recovering addict," Sidney clarified. "It doesn't matter. Your mental health is still at risk."
Hawkeye sat down heavily. "My father said something similar before he left me for the Widow Barnes."
"Daniel would know." The two men shared a look of understanding.
"Because he went through it with me," Hawkeye replied with a grimace. "And here I thought he was being unfair."
"Your father is a wise man. And I don't believe he left you. He think he simply understood that you and BJ needed some space to work things out and didn't need an audience."
Hawkeye nodded. "I should talk to him."
Sidney closed the notebook and leaned forward. "Hawkeye, there's a new self-help group forming in this area that I'd like you to try."
Hawkeye appeared startled. "Instead of my veteran's group for alcoholics? I was planning to take BJ with me."
"No, this would be in addition to that. It's a support group for those who have been affected by someone else's addiction."
"Another group?"
"Another group," Sidney confirmed. "I think it would be good for you to have a designated space where you keep the focus on yourself."
"So I can be there for BJ." Hawkeye nodded.
"So you can be there for yourself." Sidney stood and Hawkeye did the same. "I'll see you both in two days, Hawkeye. Take care of each other and try to get some rest." The men shook hands.
Once his patient was out the door, and Sidney could hear BJ and Hawkeye talking in the waiting room, the psychiatrist dropped onto the small sofa. Sidney hugged a pillow to his chest and took a deep breath.
One day at a time.
Notes:
Alcoholics Anonymous began in 1935, so I'm assuming Hawkeye's veterans support group is either an AA group or something similar.
Al-Anon, for friends and family affected by someone else's drinking, was founded in 1951. I think Sidney heard about this program at just the right time to help Hawkeye.
If you, or someone you love, is struggling with addiction, please know that there is help and support available. AA and Al-Anon are good places to start.