Psychoanalysis

I was lying in my bed. Waiting for my being discharged. I was finally going home today, after four long years.

The room I had been staying in was white. The walls, bed sheets, equipment; everything. Except the big, brown door that lead into the hallway. I had mostly stayed in my room the past years. I’m a bit antisocial. I never was really interested in interacting with the other patients.

I stood from the bed, and walked around the room. Looking at all the things I’d come to know here. I wouldn’t miss it.

I wished it had never happened. Maybe if I’d never been diagnosed, it wouldn’t have happened. I was only fourteen when they did the first tests.

They diagnosed me fully at fifteen. I was in the psychiatrist’s office. The walls were pale blue, the table I was sitting on was white. The doctor, Dr. Anozi, was an older man. He had graying hair, and a wrinkling face. Dr. Anozi had tired grey eyes, too. He had a strong voice, and he was tall.

I had my hair fan-spiked in the back, with bangs in my face. I wore tight black jeans, with a bright blue tee-shirt. It had a pink monster on the front. I also wore pink fingerless gloves.

As soon as he saw me, he told me I had manic depression. I suppose he judged me by my cover. I remember him asking me questions. The questions were about hallucinations, feelings, and compulsions.

“I have visions of this black, crocodile-like thing. It has red eyes, with deep black pupils. It watches me.” Dr. Anozi had scribbled it down on a piece of paper. I told him of visions of death (my own, and of others). I also said, if I didn’t rub, or touch a certain thing six times, I felt anxious. Every now, and again it would be without reason.

He sent me down the hall to get a cat scan. It took around twenty minutes. I came back in the room to find the results on the computer. It had a picture of a normal brain on the let, and mine on the right , There were distinct differences.

Dr. Anozi came back into the room.

“The results of your cat scan, questioning, observation, and previous MRI,” before this appointment I had been sent to get an MRI at the neurologists. And Dr. Anozi observed me for a week. “Indicate that you have severe obsessive-compulsive disorder, tourette syndrome, bipolar mood disorder, paranoid personality disorder, a bit of dissociative identity disorder, and the beginnings of schizophrenia,” my jaw dropped. My mother teared up, and left the room.

Dr. Anozi gave me a few medicines to slow the progressions of the schizophrenia, and DID (dissociative identity disorder; also get used to seeing these acronyms).

The medication had worked, too. At least until a few months after my seventeenth birthday. After a big thunderstorm, I went into a paranoid state. My paranoia clashed with my bipolar mood disorder. When they clashed I had a mental breakdown.

Dr. Anozi sent me to live in a mental institution until I was in full control of myself. I had been for the past year, but he wanted to make sure.

I was back on my regular medications, and I returned to my normal symptoms. He was still weary of the discharge.

The nurse walked in with my forms.

“Are you ready to go home, Mr. Demidov?” asked the nurse. She had on scrubs, I guessed she was going into surgery soon. She wasn’t my regular nurse, this was one I hadn’t seen before.

“I’ve been for a long, long time,” I said as she helped me put my jacket on. I was dressed in my normal attire. Black pants, black button-up shirt (three-quarter sleeve. Believe it or not it gets warm in New York), black shoes, and a black suede jacket.

“I’m sure you have,” she looked at me with her piercing green eyes. Blonde wisps of hair escaped her cap. “Come along, Mr. Demidov.”

It was required a nurse walk you out. I don’t see the reason, it’s not like I’m going to break down in the outside lot, and kill someone for God’s sake.

We went out of the room, and down the hall. The hall walls were painted a light blue. There was a big desk in the middle, it was the doctor’s station. There weren’t many there today. Most were off on Saturdays.

“Can you wait here a moment, I need to talk to Deborah,” the nurse said, gesturing to the only person over at the desk. Deborah was my usual nurse. She had curly brown hair, with brown eyes, and glasses. She had a pinkish complexion, and Deborah was a little chubby. She was about mid to late thirties. Her personality was much younger, though, which made her fun to hang around.

I leaned against the wall, trying to discreetly listen in. They were talking so low, I couldn’t hear them. I tried for a moment longer, after no luck, I gave up. The way they were talking it sounded like they may take a while. I closed my eyes, and cleared my head.

I had just gotten into a meditative state, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. My eyes snapped open. On my right was Dr. Anozi, my left was his intern, Alexander. Alexander was my age, and he was about 6 foot-tall. He had medium cut, dirty-blonde hair. His skin was two shades darker than mine. I think he had a tanning bed membership.

“Damien, are you all right?” Dr. Anozi asked, looking concerned.

“Uh, yeah, I’m-I’m fine,” I didn’t quite have my thoughts in order. I was trying not to show it, though.

“You should sit,” Dr. Anozi kept his hadn on my shoulder as I sank down to the floor. Alexander kneeled down beside of me. I looked into his eyes, and saw a flicker. It was a flicker of remembrance.

“Why are you so pale?” Alexander asked while studying me.

“I spend my time inside, reading. It takes a lot of time to obtain three-fourths of your doctorate degree without regular college classes. So, as you can see I’ve no time to tan. Unlike some people,” I was defensive about my characteristics when I was in my right mind. When I slipped into my dissociative state, I didn’t recognize myself. People telling me I looked different scared me.

“Alright, I know. I mean, you look paler than you normally do,” Alexander said while standing back up.

“Anyway,” I suppose Dr. Anozi had had enough of the conversation. “How are your psychology studies going?” He asked eyeing the book of the human mind beside me.

“Good, I’m almost finished with my theses. The woman at the credentials desk at the college told me being in institutions, and such I wouldn’t need the two years of internship,” Sorry, I forgot to mention, I’m studying to be a psychologist. The human mind is such a fascinating place. To work with it would be an honor. I’ve questioned it’s mechanics since I was a child.

Dr. Anozi, and I had to make a case to present to the state. For, they did not believe a man with mental disorders could help treat people with the same disorders. Nor did they think I could gather accurate testing data.

We showed them some of the research I had already collected without my license. The state board was so shocked we walked out with nothing, but a paper with the theses requirements. After, I completed the theses I could get my license.

This all happened when I was nineteen. The beginning of my healing process from my breakdown. Some people still mention that it is insane to permit me to practice psychology. Most of them are in their right minds, though. The people who matter, the ones with the disorders, are more likely to choose me to treat them. For, I know what they are going through.

“I understand why. You’ve been exposed to more doctors, patients, and setting than any intern I’ve met,” said Dr. Anozi. He walked over to Deborah, ending the conversation. He interrupted the conversation between Deborah, and the other nurse. Alexander sank down beside me.

“Did you know he’s retiring?” said Alexander abruptly.

“Who? Dr. Anozi?” No, he couldn’t be. He loved his job, he always had. I didn’t think he would ever retire.

“Yeah,” said Alexander, confirming my suspicion.

“Who will be my psychiatrist now?” I asked. Dr. Anozi had been the only psychiatrist I’d ever been to. He had helped me with so much; I don’t know how anyone could fill those shoes.

“I will. I’m his only intern, and he has taught me everything he knows. Dr. Anozi wants me to carry on for him,” Alexander looked down at the tops of his hands. They sat on the top of his lap. I wanted to say something in response, but I was just too sad. Dr. Anozi had been my crutch, my friend, since I was thirteen. Now, he was leaving.

I watched Dr. Anozi’s face as he talked to the nurses. He looked solemn. A face I had come to know over the years. I looked to the nurses, their faces going sober. Dr. Anozi must’ve told them. When would he tell me? Would he tell me?

“Damien,” Dr. Anozi turned. “I’ll walk you out, come along.” He motioned for me to follow. I stood up bending down to pick up the book beside me. I walked over to him. Dr. Anozi put his hand on the small of my back. He guided me as we walked toward the elevator.

“I want you to know, this is the last time we will be seeing each other,” he looked at me. I kept my face in profile. I didn’t want him to see my full expression. For, it was one of sadness.

“Why?” I asked knowing the answer.

“I’m retiring to Russia. I’m going to live out the rest of my days with your grandparents,” he said.

“You know my grandparents?” I asked. I knew he knew my mother, but not my grandparents.

“Yes, we grew up together. In a small Siberian village,” Dr. Anozi said. He sounded like he was thinking of his childhood.

“I never knew.”

“Why else would I have helped you with so many things? It wasn’t out of the goodness of my heart. I probably would’ve sent you off to someone else, also. I rarely take cases like yours,” he said. Dr. Anozi put me on the elevator. He stood in the hallway.

“You aren’t coming down, doctor?” I looked at him curiously.

“No, Damien. I trust you can see yourself downstairs,” Dr. Anozi said.

“Alright then. Good bye, Dr. Anozi,” I said trying not to show my emotion.

“Good bye, Damien,” the elevator door closed.

As I stood there in the elevator-green walls surrounding me, with a hardwood floor-I felt a single tear run down my cheek.