Bringing the Light

21. Uh, Dr. David Freud?

I thought med school has challenging and hard, residency didn't hold a candle to that!

Even though I had decided where I'd like to specialize I still had to do my residency. And I was started on an ER rotation. While I was under the psychology program, I helped deal with ER patients who required some sort of psychological evaluation.

One of the cases that solidified my decision to follow psychology as my subspecialty was an eight year old girl who came in. She was very obviously abused. Bruises, cigarette burns, previously broken bones. She was me at eight. All she kept saying is that she wanted her daddy and her mommy.

They were with the police. This little girl had been found wandering around a Columbus neighborhood near the river. She was in thin pyjamas and it was mid October by this point. I'd been on the ER rotation for four months and would switch departments soon.

She wouldn't tell me her name but she was just this adorable little girl with the bluest eyes I'd ever seen.

"Hi there," I said to her when they asked me to check on her. "My name is Dr. David Freud. What's yours?"

She had a ratty stuffed hippo in her arms and she was clinging to it.

"Okay, you don't want to tell me your name? That's okay. You don't have to," I smiled at her. "I'm just here to check up on you. Maybe talk with you a little. Make sure you're okay. Are you okay?"

She nodded.

"Who's this?" I asked, indicating her stuffed animal. She just clung tighter to the toy.

"You have a big bruise right there on your forehead. Wanna tell me what happened?" I asked. She shook her head. I smiled.

"That's okay. Can I tell you a secret?" I whispered. She nodded, her eyes widening. "When I was a little boy, my mommy was very sad and sometimes she'd get really mad. And when she did, sometimes she'd take it out on me. All I ever wanted was for my mommy to love me. And maybe in her way she did. But her way wasn't very healthy. And one day, when I was about your age, I think, my mommy got mad and she pushed me and I broke my shoulder. I had surgery and everything."

I showed her the scar on my shoulder. Her eyes got wider. She was missing her two front teeth and was just adorable.

"Does somebody in your house hurt you, too? Even though you try so hard to be good?"

She nodded.

"Is it your mommy?" She shook her head.

"Your daddy?" I asked. She didn't answer. She didn't have to.

"It's scary, isn't it? Because you don't want your daddy to be in any trouble, but you don't want him to be mad, either. Right?"

She nodded.

"And you feel really alone, because no one else's daddy seems to get mad the same way, right?"

She nodded again.

"And it's scary, because sometimes you don't even know why he's mad at you, right?"

She shook her head no.

"Oh? You do know why?"

She nodded.

"Want to tell me why?" I asked. She shook her head. I sighed internally.

"That's okay. Are you hungry?" I asked, realizing no one had offered her anything to eat and it was late already.

She nodded.

"Are you cold? I can maybe get you soup or a hot chocolate?"

Her eyes lit up at the mention of hot chocolate. I smiled.

"Would you like a hot chocolate?" I asked. She nodded, hiding behind her stuffed toy.

"Yeth pleathe," she lisped l between her missing teeth. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Okay," I said. "I'm going to go get you a hot chocolate and maybe I can find a sandwich or something. Do you like cheese sandwiches?"

She shrugged. I smiled at her and ruffled her hair.

"I'll be right back. Should I get some animal crackers for your hippo?"

She giggled and shook her head.

"He'th a toy. Toyth don't eat cookieth," she smiled.

I smiled back and told her I'd be right back. I went to the cafeteria and got her a hot chocolate and got myself a coffee. I also found a peanut butter sandwich and got that for her too.

When I got back to the emergency room, her stretcher was empty.

"Hey, Lila?" I asked the nurse at the desk. "What happened to the girl in bed three?"

"As is typical, Dad came and took her. AMA, of course but we see them here at least once a month. Poor kid," she said.

I looked over at the empty stretcher that Lila was starting to strip and clean to prepare for the next patient.

I knew it was typical that if the abuser wasn't arrested, they came and got their victim. This time she'd been found wandering around in her pyjamas. What about next time? 

I stood outside the area where she'd been and felt defeated.

"You can't win 'em all, Mr. Freud," my supervisor, Dr. Phillips, came by and said.

"Uh, Dr. Freud?" I said.

"Not until you earn it," Dr. Phillips said with a wink. He was stern, strict, but a good supervisor.

I offered Lila the sandwich and hot chocolate.  She gratefully accepted them.

"Freud," Dr. Phillips said, handing me a chart. "Suck it up and move on. Bed ten. Sixteen year old female, attempted suicide, possibly. Go do a work up and report back to me."

I couldn't just move on, but as I became more practiced I learned to do quicker assessments. But I refused to compromise my compassion.

I'd taken my dad's name because he was one of the first to show me compassion when I was in a bad place mentally. He'd helped me heal and grow. I was going to do that for another kid.

Even if I had to wait until I opened my own practice.