“Yep.”
“… So your name is Rose Flower.”
“… No. My name is RoseFloris.”
We stared at each other, one trying to deflect, one trying to rein in her impatience.
Turn the tables,I told myself.
“Anyway, as I was saying, or asking rather, have you ever been to a counselor before this?”
“I thought you were a doctor.”
Geez.“I am. Let me rephrase. Have you ever been to a psychologist before?”
“No.”
“Psychiatrist?”
“I don’t believe in Psychiatry.”
“Why not?”
“Throwing drugs at a problem only masks it.”
Narrow-minded macho male. Check.
“There’s a lot more to psychiatry than prescribing drugs.” And little did he know, my evaluation was the only thing that was keeping him from seeing a psychiatrist. If I decided that medication would assist in his therapy, I had been advised to give the referral. And from what I’d seen already, I was guessing this guy could use more than just a truckload of vesuvianite. More like a steady flow of valium in the veins.
He leaned back, letting me know he disagreed with my comment, and had nothing else to say about it.
“So we’ve established that this is your first time visiting a psychologist. Good. Let’s review why you’re here first, and then?—”
“I’m here because the local healthcare system saw an opportunity to pull a few more pennies from my pocket before leaving me alone.”
“Is that what you think?”
“That’s what I said.” He leaned forward on his elbows. “And let me guess, your next question is going to be ‘how do you feel about that’?”
“We won’t get into those questions yet, Mr. Steele.”
“Phoenix.”
I ignored him and began flipping through the pages of his file. “I’ll review why you’re here, according to your medical file, because it’s important that we start out on the same page. Will that work for you, Phoenix?”
The snarl of his lip told me if there had been any attraction on his part as well, it was long gone.
I grabbed my reading glasses from the drawer, slid them on, and focused on the file that I was ashamed to say I’d only skimmed when Zoey created his account. Typically, I’d take at least thirty minutes before an appointmentto review notes, but that day had been, well, horse crap.
“According to Dr. Buckley at the Berry Springs Medical clinic, and your neuropsychological evaluation, you are suffering from mild PTA, or post-traumatic-amnesia, and PCS, or post-concussion syndrome, including a decrease in fine motor skills, intermittent confusion, and behavioral changes as a result of a traumatic brain injury. Does this sound correct to you?”
His gaze had drifted to the floor—the first time they hadn’t been fixed on me. His toe began totap, tap, tapagainst the hardwood floor.
I continued going down the list. “According to your assessment, somatosensory issues include dizziness and occasional double vision. Motor issues include hemiparesis, or occasional weakness, as well as slowed performance,” he literally twitched at that one, “and cognitive issues include attention, concentration, judgment and reasoning. Finally, the behavioral issues noted are decreased inhibition, impulsivity”—another twitch—“inappropriate behavior, anxiety, anger, and irritability.”
Highlighted in yellow under the list read:List not exhaustive, patient participation unwilling and unforthcoming with any and all symptoms.In other words, Phoenix had continually told the doctors he felt “fine.”
I continued, “Due to this, Dr. Buckley referred you to a physical therapist to rehabilitate your motor skills, and referred you to me to address the behavioral changes you are experiencing. Does all this sound right?”
