Delirious. Daniel James Palmer

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Delirious - Daniel James Palmer

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the office unsettling.

      “I’m not sure how I feel about this,” Rachel said. “If you need professional help, you should seek proper medical attention.”

      Charlie tried to recover his already shaky poise.

      “I’m not sure there is a problem that I need to address,” Charlie began. “The situation…my situation, well, it’s a bit complicated.”

      “They’re all complicated in their own way. The mind is the most personal and private thing we have. When we’re questioning it, we are questioning our very selves. That’s almost always complicated, Mr. Giles.”

      “Charlie,” he said again. “I’d prefer if we could keep this informal. I promise I won’t take up much of your time.”

      Charlie could see Rachel processing her next move. She was calculating. A thinker. He liked that. If they had met under different circumstances, Charlie was certain he would have been interested in getting to know her personally. Perhaps that would still be a possibility, he thought. Assuming she doesn’t think I’m a nut job.

      “Listen, Charlie,” Rachel said, her green eyes fixed on him. “Your brother, Joe, is a patient of mine. That automatically disqualifies us from having any professional relationship. You can ask me your questions, but if I feel a line is being crossed, I’m going to stop the conversation short. Is that all right with you?”

      Charlie nodded his head. “Yes, of course,” he said. “I understand.”

      “Good. Then talk. What is it that you want to know about?”

      “Well… I’m not sure where to begin.”

      “The beginning is often a good place to start,” Rachel said.

      “Of course. The beginning. Well, you know my family history. Both my father and brother have mental illness.”

      Rachel leaned forward, interlocking the fingers of her hands. It was a gesture of apprehension. Had she already suspected this conversation would head out-of-bounds?

      Charlie shifted slightly in his chair and crossed his legs. It was a defensive posture, but he was unable to resist the urge to protect himself. To hide his vulnerabilities.

      “I’m aware of your family history, Charlie. And, I’m also aware that any discussion of that on my part would be completely inappropriate.”

      Charlie sat back in his chair, uncrossed his legs, and tried his best to assume a more carefree, less concerned manner. He needed her perspective. The last thing he wanted was to scare her off with his own alarm.

      “Understood. Well, lately I’ve been interested in learning more about my family genetics. I won’t trouble you with all the specifics, but suffice it to say, it’s extremely important to me.”

      “All right,” Rachel said. “I’ll see what I can do. What do you want to know?”

      “I’m wondering how you come to the diagnosis that you do. I mean, what are the symptoms that might make you think somebody needs treatment?”

      “What treatment are you referring to, Charlie?”

      Charlie looked at his shoes. They were polished to a mirror finish, the way he was accustomed to maintaining things—perfectly. “I’m referring to the diagnosis and treatment for schizophrenia,” he said. There was nothing liberating about asking the question. It embarrassed him to ask, and the flushness of his cheeks suggested Rachel knew that as well. He had contemplated avoiding the term altogether by asking if work pressures could cause someone to lose their memory or concoct elaborate fantasies, but he wasn’t ready to be specific with her.

      Rachel stayed seated and made no gesture to end the conversation. From her pursed lips and narrowed eyes Charlie could sense she was being cautious with her word choice, a sign he interpreted as a willingness to walk a very thin line.

      “I find it interesting that you’ve taken such a sudden interest,” Rachel said.

      Charlie thought about that for a moment. “Are you implying something?”

      “I know about you through your family, Charlie,” Rachel said. “You realize we encourage family to participate in a patient’s treatment. Studies have shown that strong support from immediate family has tremendous benefit for the patient.”

      Charlie avoided her gaze. “No, I hadn’t realized that,” he said.

      “You’ve never come around, even though Joe has invited you to several of his milestone events. So I’m just curious. Why the sudden interest?”

      “I’ve had some experiences over the past few days,” Charlie said. “Let’s just say that they’ve heightened my curiosity.”

      “Why don’t we do this?” Rachel said. “Tell me about those experiences. What it is that made you feel you needed to speak with me so urgently. We’ll put that story into context. I could run through a series of questions that a psychiatrist or someone in a position to form a diagnosis might ask. Take notes if you want. It’s more of an exercise, you see, not really a formal assessment. Think of it as a case study. Just an information session. Got it?”

      Charlie nodded. He didn’t ask why but accepted that Rachel was willing to extend herself beyond the boundaries of what she knew was ethically and perhaps even legally correct. He decided, fighting back his initial hesitation, to open up to her. Charlie went through the events of the last several days, careful to mention details he hoped would convince Rachel, and even himself, that Anne Pedersen was real, that their meeting had taken place, and that he wasn’t the author of the PowerPoint discrediting his InVision product.

      Rachel listened intently and gave no indication of her verdict. “Charlie, now I understand your reluctance to be honest about the situation.”

      “You do?”

      “Yes. But if I had known beforehand, I wouldn’t have agreed to meet with you.”

      Charlie looked down. “I understand,” he said.

      “But I do want to help.”

      “Could it be related to work? The pressure I’m under, I mean.”

      “I don’t know the answer to that. You would need to be properly evaluated.”

      “Listen, I don’t think I’m crazy. I really don’t. I mean, what if I’m being framed? Set up by someone jealous of my success?”

      Rachel pursed her lips. “Charlie, suspecting that people may be planning to hurt you is actually a symptom of schizophrenia.”

      Charlie laughed. “Now that’s a catch-twenty-two. Somebody may be messing with me to make me think I’m going insane, but to suspect that means I’m insane?”

      “It’s not that simple, but I agree, it complicates matters,” Rachel said. She stood up, moving away from behind her desk so that she was now closest to the door.

      Charlie shrank at the implication. Perhaps, he thought, she feels threatened. Since they were together alone in her small office, she must have sensed danger.

      Maybe

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