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- 04/04/2024
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Doctor Carlo and Brandon - 2. More Difficult Patients
I felt great, leaving work after that appointment. I started down the path of getting Steve comfortable with who he is, and I also tricked Ed into realizing he wasn't as tolerant as he thought he was. The kids noticed my good cheer when I picked them up from daycare. The conniving little devils decided to take advantage of it. They whispered quietly in the back seat. It didn't take long before I found out what they wanted.
I guess Billy lost the virtual coin toss. Or maybe it was Rochambeau, "Can we go out for burgers for dinner tonight?"
I knew burgers were second on their lists of favorite out for dinner items, so I decided to have some fun.
"I suppose we could. I was kind of looking forward to pizza, but burgers are okay."
Carla took her shot, "I guess we could settle for pizza."
Laughing, "Since when do you two 'settle' for pizza? Other than pizza, you're settling for everything else."
From Billy, "Oh, burn!"
"Okay, we prefer pizza. We wanted to leave a little room for negotiation."
Carla's comment didn't surprise me at all. She'll be a lawyer before I knew it.
"Very good, counselor. Objection sustained, pizza it is."
I should have waited until we were out of the car before I subjected myself to dual ninety decibel cheers. Hopefully, my ears will stop ringing before my first appointment tomorrow. Brandon noticed my mood as soon as he walked in the door twenty minutes later.
"Somebody had a good day."
"Yes, someone did. I had a new patient this afternoon. Things went very well."
"Glad to hear it. Okay, you're first home, what did you make for dinner?"
After a slight hesitation, "Reservations."
"Reservations? It really must have been a good day. Where?"
Struggling to hold back the laughter, "Al's." Al's is a local pizza joint, if it wasn't obvious.
The disbelief on his face didn't need an interpreter, "You don't need a res…" I lost my battle with the giggles.
Brandon's retort, "That was not nice. I'll have to punish you later."
"Oooh, I can HARDly wait."
"You're impossible. Let me get out of my work clothes."
"I don't think, Al's will serve you nude."
"And into something more casual, you ditz."
I laughed at Brandon until he disappeared into our bedroom, chuckling himself.
Saturday
I was up early and into the office by eight. My first appointment was at nine, but since that one was mostly medication management, I had some extra time before my ten o'clock. That was a good thing, because I needed it to review the patient's on-line questionnaire. The appointment was just made on Thursday, and it seemed like this was a desperate individual. Duncan Hanratty was eighteen years old and apparently afraid for his life. Walking into the office on crutches gave me the impression he may not be wrong.
"Welcome, Mr. Hanratty."
"Thank you. Call me Dun, please."
After denying he wanted any refreshments, "Of course. So, Dun, why do you think someone is looking to do you harm?"
Pointing at his leg, "Because he already has and told me he'd do more."
"Who did this, and exactly what did he tell you?"
"Can I come back to the who?" Unfortunately, he never did; not specifically.
"Sure. Tell me in whatever order makes you most comfortable."
"Okay. I don't remember his exact words—I was in a lot of pain after he broke my shin with a baseball bat. It was something like, 'If I catch your faggot ass near my son again, I'll be aiming at your skull.'"
"Did you call the police?"
"No. He threatened me not to. Plus, it would be his word against mine. Adult versus teenager; I’m sure you can imagine how well that would work."
"Ah, I see. But surely you could be given protection."
"Maybe. I can't take that chance. And if he's released after the protection is gone—what then? I'm hurt worse, or dead."
"I'm guessing, based on the limited information on your questionnaire, there was some kind of homosexual activity involved?"
He looked toward the door, "Um, yeah."
"I'm not going to make any judgments. A lot of my patients are gay. I've heard and seen it all."
"Okay, yeah. He saw us when his kid was sucking my dick."
"You're eighteen, how old is his son?"
"He's eighteen, too."
"So, you're both consenting adults. It shouldn't be a problem."
"Simon, um, his son, told him that I made him do it. He didn't want his dad to know he was gay. That's when I got walloped."
"Sounds like this Simon didn't do you any favors. Was this a one-time occurrence?"
"Getting caught was. Trading blow-jobs was not."
"Have you spoken to Simon since this happened?"
Shaking his head, "I've tried. He won't answer my calls, emails, texts, nothing."
"Have you tried going to his home?"
"No. I can't do that. I'd never get away from the front door if his father was home. And he'd come looking for me if I was caught on video trying to contact Simon."
"Have you tried asking Simon to meet you somewhere, via text, or anything?"
"No. I'm afraid his father would see the texts. He's some kind of computer genius. Simon said, he has ways of seeing anything he gets, texts, social media messages, everything."
"Do you think, Simon would back you up if you went to the police?"
"I know, he wouldn't. He constantly avoids doing anything that would upset his dad."
"I know, you probably don't want to hear this, but would it be possible to just give up on Simon?"
He looked like I slapped him across the face, "No. I can't do that. He's really my only friend."
We spoke for a long time, not really making any progress. I didn't want to appear to play matchmaker, but him moving on was probably his only choice. I wasn't sure inviting him to a youth group session, I ran every week, would be a good idea either, but it was my only one. Just as our time was running out, I decided he needed that.
"Can you come back Wednesday at five o'clock?"
"I guess so. Why?"
"I run a group session for young men—like yourself—trying to come to terms with their homosexuality and dealing with problems relating to it. Maybe if you know you have more support, breaking away from Simon might be possible. I only hesitated to mention it because I don't want it to turn into some kind of gay dating service. But I do think sharing and hearing that other folks have similar problems would help."
"I'll give anything a chance at this point."
I would eventually come to regret that decision.
Monday
Another new patient questionnaire arrived in my in-box just after lunch. The request was a little different than I usually get. It was from a gentleman who believed his son was gay and wanted counseling to help him understand the whole gay universe. I figured, getting more people to the accept side of the fence from the despise side, was a good thing. Chase Shepherd worked, so I had Maxine schedule him for either Thursday or next Tuesday after my last appointment.
Wednesday
The group session went fine this week. Duncan didn't seem like he was going to use it as a dating exercise. He was open and got a lot of support. Most people suggested, he just wait it out and maybe Simon's dad would cool off. Dun had no expectation of that ever happening. Although he hated the idea of ending the relationship, a few folks convinced him that was his only other choice. Two even volunteered to be available for him to vent, if necessary. He left feeling like a compromise would work best. Give Simon and his dad a little time, but do not wait forever. I agreed.
Thursday
Chase Shepherd arrived at five-fifteen. His discussion was filled with a lot of the hypothetical. I began to wonder whether he really had a son who he thought was gay. My perception was that he himself was uncomfortable with the possibility of being gay. Confronting him about that wasn't something I would venture into further on a first visit, though. Even though the group was younger men, I invited him to come along with his son the following Wednesday. He said he'd consider it. I expected them to show up and sit quietly, taking it all in; or not show up at all. This compounded regret number one.
Wednesday
Chase and his son did indeed show up. Shortly thereafter, Duncan stepped into the room, and looked around. Then, with fear written all over his face, he called me out into the hall.
"Why are they here?"
"They, who?"
"Simon and his father."
"I'm assuming, you mean the Shepherds, since they're the only new attendees."
"Yeah. Them."
"Dun, I had no idea Chase was Simon's father when he made the appointment. I didn't even know the son he was concerned about was named Simon. To be perfectly honest, I had doubts there even was a son. You never told me exactly who they were. All I knew was 'Simon and his dad.' I'm sure I can keep things under control. Maybe Chase, hearing what the rest of the group says to you, will cool him off."
"Maybe. Big maybe. I don't think I should stay."
"Give it a little while. If you still feel uncomfortable, you can leave, and we'll talk at a one-on-one appointment."
"Okay. I hope you're right." Big mistake. That was number two, ironically. It sure as hell turned to shit.
Duncan followed me back in. Chase and Simon were getting themselves coffee, so they didn't see Duncan right away. Simon turned around first. It didn't last long, but a smile brightened his face.
"Him!"
Before I could react, Chase was on top of Duncan, punching him in the face. He slammed Duncan's head on the floor twice. It took four of us to pull him off. By that time, Duncan was bloodied, bruised, and barely conscious. While the others kept Chase in line, I called 9-1-1, saying I needed an ambulance and the police. Duncan, when he recovered, two women and six other men, me included, witnessed the vicious attack. Chase wasn't going to be a barrier between Duncan and Simon for a long while. I ended up being right, but not in the way I thought.
Saturday
Duncan spent two nights in the hospital. When he was released on Friday, he called to make another appointment. It wasn't my Saturday to work, but I felt I didn't have a choice but to see him as soon as possible.
"Come on in, Dun. Do you need anything, coffee, etc.?"
"No. I just want to say what I need to say and get out of here."
"I think you should stay and talk longer, but I'm not going to chain you down. What happened after Wednesday evening? Did you get hold of Simon, since his dad was arrested?"
"I did. It didn't work out very well. He blamed me for his father getting arrested. He said he never wanted to see me again. I called him again yesterday; he already changed his phone number. So, I stopped at his house. He answered the door, clenched his fists and gave me an ultimatum. Get out of his life or he'd finish what his father started; cops be damned. He felt if I hadn't kept trying to contact him, his dad wouldn't be in jail. I tried to tell him; I didn't know about them coming to the meeting. He wouldn't listen. Simon said, I set it up and I should get out of his sight before I really got hurt.
"You’ve ruined my life, Dr. Marini. I could have waited until Simon moved out. He had said he was going to do that, but now there was no way it could happen. He has to pitch in and help take care of his family. He didn't even say goodbye. 'Go fuck yourself. Leave.' That's how he ended it. I turned away, and walked back to my car, crying. Now I have nobody."
"I'll still be here for you."
He snorted, "Like I want to have anything to do with you! In the immortal words of Simon Shepherd: Go fuck yourself!"
He got up and walked out of my office. I called him back, but he ignored me.
Sunday
The next morning, I found out Duncan's situation had hit rock bottom. I was reading the local paper on-line and saw the headline.
'Local Man Found Dead Near Intracoastal Waterway'
JACKSONVILLE BEACH - Late yesterday afternoon, witnesses claimed they saw the man, Duncan Hanratty, eighteen, jump off the McCormick Bascule Bridge. Hanratty was found dead on a platform above the water at the point where the bridge begins to cross the waterway. He had a note in his pocket that simply read '(expletive deleted) you, Doctor M.' It is currently unknown who Doctor M. is.
"FUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Brandon and the kids came running. I had dropped my iPad on the kitchen table.
Brandon glanced at the short article, "Oh, shit."
The kids weren't sure who to ask what was wrong. Brandon lost that coin flip. Carla was so afraid she couldn't make any words intelligible. Billy was a little more coherent. There was no choice about who answered him, because I couldn't have answered if I tried.
"What's wrong, Dad?"
"I'm not sure, but I think Pop lost another patient yesterday."
Brandon looked at me for confirmation, but my brain had checked out, leaving no forwarding address, hopping a bullet train to anywhere.
Monday
I woke up the next morning without a clue where I was. After a minute or two, I realized, it had to be a hospital. After calling for a nurse, I discovered I was at HCA Florida Memorial Hospital. I looked myself over, searching for an injury, but none was to be found. That's when the nurse told me, I was in their Mental Health and Wellness unit. I couldn't understand why. So, I asked.
"You were brought in yesterday, catatonic. According to notes on your chart, you didn't respond to any stimulus, other than reflex stimuli."
"I'd ask why again, but I'm guessing, you don't know what put me in that state."
"That's correct. Can I get you anything?"
"My doctor would be nice, please."
After waiting around confused for twenty minutes, a doctor walked in, "Good morning, Dr. Marini. I'm Doctor Ellis. It's good to see you're awake."
"I guess, it's good to be awake, but I don't know why I'm here."
He looked at me, apparently trying to determine if I was serious.
"You really don't know?"
"No. I remember going to bed last night, next thing I know, I wake up here."
"That would have been Saturday night?"
"Yeah, last night."
He looked like he was going to say something else but changed his mind. He spoke again, but I didn't know if it was the previous thought, or a new subject.
"I have to finish my rounds. I'll be back around eleven and we'll talk some more."
"Okay, I guess. I'm not going anywhere."
He stopped at the white board that listed all the nurses and other attendant's names. I think he erased something, but I couldn't immediately tell what. He nodded to me as he walked out of the room.
Next up - "Lost A Day, What Else Aren't They Telling Me?"
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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