20years from now

Not very much of a hopeful future-life..!

But I really think being psychotherapist would be a very demanding yet fun thing.

           For me, who have a very bad memory, name of diseases, their symptoms, and adequate treatments for them were too much to commit to memory. But it’s not my memory problem that I don’t know a good way to make patients self-conscious about their disease without hurting their self-regard. It’s just… There is no such method for that. And today, I definitely felt a need for one.

           His name was Eric. He knocked on my office door when I was reviewing his chart of medical history. He stayed in psychiatric ward of McLean Psychiatric Hospital. It was only fourth time for me to treat patients from hospitals. I usually treat people who don’t have superficial problems. Most of the times, they visit me because of anxiety, depression, emotional instability and some other trivial matters. Three previous patients were sent to me because doctors their concluded those patients needed less formal counsels more than medical treatments. Quite glozingly explained, but in short, those patients are often ‘problematic’ ones whom the hospital can’t handle well. Eric was just that case.

           To introduce Eric a little more, Eric has anti-social disorder, and just like other patients, he isn’t self conscious that he has such a disorder. Well, till here he is not a very peculiar patient. But the point is, he studies Psychiatry in university. Then when he was in graduating class, something happened to his family-probably something tragic-and he turned extremely antisocial. His diagnosis and personal information chart included this far. I got additional advice from Dr. Cox who was in charge of Eric that Eric is highly crafty even as a person antisocial disorder, partly because he knew too much. This is all I know about Eric.

           Dr. Cox was right. Eric knew too much. When I greeted him, he thrust his hand out and shook my hand as if we were having a formal meeting. He then introduced himself as an ‘orderly in psychiatry ward’. He cautiously explained more about patients he had to deal with in ward no. 52. I listened to his words carefully. He talked about a girl who washes her hand every thirty minutes to clean out the memory of being raped. He explained about another girl who was exceptionally plump and was bullied for her entire life. That girl had bipolar disorder, Eric said. He talked about a good looking guy who used to be an athlete but got schizophrenia because he was habitually beaten by his coach. He mentioned few other patients in ward no. 52 which I can’t remember them all. But I remember what he mentioned at last: that there is no one in ward no. 52 who is suffering from anti-social disorder. I pretty much nodded to what he said though I didn’t completely trust his words.

           After Eric left my office, I called Dr. Cox to ask a little more about what problems he typically had in the hospital. Dr. Cox laughed, and told me reluctantly. Eric had driven patients to suicide nine times by giving contemptuous remarks to them. In one occasion, Eric told one patient that psychopaths are noxious beings to their families. He said that nobody would want to marry a woman with psychic brother, and that parents would find it very bothersome to take care of their psychic child. Once he even deceived an internship student. Hearing all these stories, I felt a sense of justice that I haven’t felt for a while. Eric might be a patient who can get me volition and will to my job.