© 2015 by tore56789 (GOS) All rights reserved.
Then before turning around, he instructed the girl to say, “You know I’m a psychiatrist. And because of this, I spotted very quickly your signs of depression. You do know too, you are an alcoholic? And using this as an aid, to block, forget, about your true illness, which is depression.”
He looked up, a little taken aback, and said, a little annoyed, “You don’t know me? You have no idea what my life is like?” His face expressed equally the loss his words had portrayed.
“I know of the symptoms. I know too, with someone of your age, and using alcohol as a means to cope with his depression, is going on a dangerous slide.”
He ordered the doctor to look him hard in the face, “What if there was a fire last night, or some emergency? Maybe some guest being severely ill? Could you have responded to that, been inebriated in the back, like you were? When those kids were shaking that bell of yours like crazy, looking for a room?”
He said nothing, just looked away, lost. So he instructed his host to continue with, “I’m not going to report you. OK. So get that worry out of your head. From talking with a waitress last night, at the Dirty Piglet, she kind-of made out you might have gone through a bad patch, not too long ago. So, I’m only going to say, seek proper help, before your drinking ends-up getting you into something, you won’t be able to get out of so easy.” With that, he instructed Jillian to walk away. He guessed, only for the waitress last night, her little chat might have been of an entirely different flavour, altogether.
When he examined information the doctor had about depression: the files horrified him. His lovely host watching-on as patients received ECT (Electroconvulsive Therapy) They convulsing strapped down on a gurney. Their heads twisting, their eyes going white, their features contorted with such agony. He didn’t like viewing such things, at all! He didn’t really like anything about the profession, his host had. Going from her early med, to the present? He found it strange too, that in this era, the law allowed such things to continue, in relation to how the mentally sick were looked after by the State? And these were his thoughts, as he walked away.
Then suddenly the old man spoke. In an entirely different tone. One of pain and loss.
