Psycho-Analysis: The Beginning

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Psycho-Analysis: The Beginning Page 12

by Nuza, Catherine;


  When my clarity of mind returned I realized the lacerations were superficial as they stood up to my pathetic attempt of defending myself. They were going to kill me!

  I glanced at the dense bushes that surrounded the area we were in and recognized them. We were only two hundred metres away from the river by my house. The only chance I had was to run and use my knowledge of the land to my advantage. It all happened so fast! As I started running I felt a hand smack me across the back of my head. The force made me stagger and lose my balance. I didn’t care this was life or death I had been through so much worse.

  I made it into the dense bushes with Jake and Tom right behind me, screaming and swearing what they would do to me. Sweat poured down my face and back as my chest struggled to get enough air into it. I climbed the tree that overlooked the river and stayed motionless. Even if I managed to escape tonight I knew they would eventually find a way to get me and kill me. My ragged breathing sounded loudly in my ears and my heart seemed like it was about to implode in my chest. They searched the area and even circled the tree I was hiding in. I could hear their frustration at loosing me, their victim, and their prey. I had managed to get away.

  I remember that night with such clarity, it was the first time in my life I had ever tried to defend myself. I should have felt proud, but survival had become such an everyday necessity, it felt more like a do or die situation to me. I was disgusted with humanity in general. If anything it confirmed all my views of people and made me reject any and all contact with them. People were animals and I was done being their prey, their victim. I just wanted to be left alone. Mother and father could keep their views to themselves. I was done trying to please them, this was my life and now more than ever, it was up to me to protect it.

  Chapter 14

  One Week to Freedom

  Being in hospital began to irritate me. The days just seemed to linger and I was feeling stressed out that there was still so much I had to get done and my body was nowhere ready for me to leave yet. To top it all off, I had to have more tests for my blackouts which I knew had no medical origin. I wonder what really happened to that nurse and who that man was, he looked so much like me. I had to guard my thoughts against any potential responsibility I had for that nurses injuries. It couldn’t have been me. I’m not insane nor a murderer. Even whilst convincing myself to wipe my hands clean of the whole incident there is always a part of me that questions what really happens when I black out. I must say she gave me the creeps with that smile, there was something slightly sinister about it. I wonder if this could’ve triggered me somehow …

  I asked the nurse who was checking my vital signs if she could call Doctor Greendale, I needed to talk to her. She was the only one that seemed to have a logical mind which I could relate to. I knew she would understand my desperation to leave this place. Thirty minutes later she came into my room looking determined.

  “Good morning Mr Slater, I hope you slept well. We still need to run some tests today as to why you blacked out,” she said.

  Her posture was not intimidating and it seemed she had gotten used to my social awkwardness. I noticed she’d cut her hair and my instant thought was she should’ve left it the length it was. Why did she do that to her hair when it was just fine the way it was before, it really didn’t suit her now? It made her face look harsher in the strong fluorescent lights. She looked at my chart and pressed the call button. “We need blood samples and an MRI scan to see if there is some underlying problem we have missed nurse,” she instructed the bewildered, jumper wearing, scruffy looking, and poor excuse of a professional who stood in front of her. Doctor Greendale told the nurse when she had finished to report back to her with the results.

  The scruffy ball of wool left the room only to return a moment later with some cotton wool, antiseptic liquid and a syringe with several small containers for the blood.

  I evaluated the syringe and tourniquet she had set beside my bed. My disgust was growing at her grubby little sausage hands which were stained some sort of yellow shade. I knew she had touched it! My breathing hastened and I think even she noticed my discomfort. I couldn’t believe she thought it was in any way okay to use the unsterilised, germ infested syringe to puncture my veins with. I brusquely asked her to bring a new set while staring blatantly at her vile hands. She reluctantly respected my wishes and returned wearing gloves and carrying a sealed packed syringe.

  Now I am ready, I just hope her skill of drawing blood is more advanced than her taste in clothes or lack of hygiene. Even Doctor Greendale seemed somewhat amused by the lack of competence that this gross individual displayed and how quickly I resolved the potentially revolting situation.

  “Doctor Greendale, can you spare a few minutes to have a chat with me after these tests have all been done?” I pleaded.

  “Of course Mr Slater, the tests should all be done by lunch time. I will try to stop by then.” Doctor Greendale left me at the mercy of, the nurse!

  The nurse, if she was even qualified enough to be called that, approached me like a psychotic blind donkey. My gut was telling me to stab her and run for it. She looked like a living piñata. Every time she spoke her eyes had no expression and it seemed as if someone was talking for her.

  She sterilized the area above my pulsating vein and placed the tourniquet tightly around my upper arm. I stared at her technique in horror, as she tried desperately to infiltrate my vein. Her eyes seemed bewildered and clueless to say the least. I had no confidence in this nurse. In fact I think I would have done a better job myself. Finally, twenty stabs later, she managed to access the blood from my visibly obvious, bulging veins. She giggled as she excused her lack of ability and blamed my veins as being slippery, the outrageous nerve of the woman! Who did this useless sack of hairy flatulence think she was and who was her mother? I would have loved to slap her for creating this creature who stood before me!

  “There, that wasn’t too bad now, was it?” she said in a patronising manner as she removed the cotton pad and stuck a plaster over the puncture.

  I couldn’t believe what this woman was saying, I just wanted her to get out of my room and as far away from me as possible. Even the air she breathed and circulated around my room disgusted me, as I was being forced to inhale it.

  The nurse turned to me saying, “MRI in thirty minutes; I’ll be back as soon as I’ve left these samples at the lab for testing,” she said in a cheery voice. Off she went, thank God for that! Let’s hope she didn’t have a freak accident along the way, I laughed to myself.

  My heart sank at the thought of seeing her ugly face again. They should make gloves for faces that way people like me wouldn’t have to see such a revolting sight.

  Half an hour later a male nurse entered my room. He was fat and had a kind, round face. He wore an earring in his right ear and walked around my bed as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Hey, Mr Slater, time to get you into this gown for your MRI. I’ll give you a hand if you need help?” He tossed the skimpy gown on the bed and turned to peer out of the window.

  “No, that’s alright son, just give me a second and I’ll get changed myself. By the way, what’s your name? You remind me of someone I know,” I said. I was holding the image of the monkey man in my mind.

  My mind dissolved back to the funny farm, I kind of missed crazy in a way. I had become so used to patients urinating in corners, running away from staff and getting up to no good, that this hospital seemed too immaculate and perfect. What was scary is that it was proven I wasn’t crazy and yet I knew the thoughts that went through my mind were far from the ‘normal’ thoughts people had. I kind of missed Sally even though she had torn my heart out and as for my baby girl I missed holding her in my arms. I was jolted back to reality as he began to speak.

  “My name is Paul, nice to meet you. I’m sorry, I see so many different people every day and no one really cares to ask my name, so I sometimes forget to introduce myself.” He sounded a bit embarrassed.

&
nbsp; “Nice to meet you Paul. Do you happen to know a guy called Jake by any chance? He works in the loony bin. I couldn’t tell you his surname. He never told me.”

  He looked at me directly and began to laugh. “That’s my brother; have you met my crazy granny too?” he asked.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact I have. Her name is Annabelle and her dead husband’s name is Eric, right?” Even I was laughing at what a strange coincidence this was. He had so many similarities with his brother. In a way it warmed my isolated, impersonal heart.

  “Yeah, poor thing, she’s as mad as a march-hare. I do feel sorry for my mother. She’s nearly at breaking point herself, but Jake believes she is not crazy, poor thing, he is so gullible. I’ll let you get changed now and I’ll be back in a mo.”

  I got up, put on the gown and walked to the door. I wasn’t sure if my rear was fully covered, I could feel a slight breeze between my cheeks. This made me feel extremely exposed and even though my backside was hairy it still looked a great sight better than that disgusting nurse’s face.

  “Hey, here’s the wheelchair for you. No point in walking if you’re a patient, compliments of the hospital.” He giggled and helped me into the chair. He was much more on the ball than Jake, poor Jake. I had unknowingly developed a bit of a soft spot for him.

  Paul wheeled me down the hall and into the lift which came surprisingly quickly. We went down another corridor, one turn to the right, second door on the left. There was a sign on the door that read ‘MRI room’ with umpteen warnings below it.

  “We are here. It shouldn’t take too long. I’ll wait for you outside, see you soon.” He gave me a wink and knocked on the door.

  The door opened to reveal an older man standing with a paper in his hand. “Mr Slater?” he asked me.

  “Yes, that’s me. I had a strange blackout,” I said, trying to make sure I was going to be examined for the right reason.

  “Yes, come in and I will explain what it is we are going to do, okay?” he continued as Paul proceeded to wheel me in.

  The room was brilliant white and the smell of disinfectant singed my senses. Who are these people? Are they friends with Dr Fanstick? It took me a while to respond to the situation as images and sensations of mother scrubbing me with bleach flooded my visual mind. There was another person inside the room, who the man at the door nodded at. The unknown person came to help me onto the machine. He had pointy gelled hair and a scent like old spice hung around him. His hands were warm and made me even more aware that all I was wearing was a gown. I started to feel like my personal space was being invaded.

  “I can do it myself,” I remarked as I freed my arm from his grip. The man backed off and once again I felt somewhat in control. Why are people always touching me? I thought as I got myself into position on the incredibly uncomfortable bed.

  “Right Mr Slater, I am Doctor Gem. What I am going to do is place a large needle into your vein. This needle will inject a dye into your bloodstream and show up the blood vessels and capillaries in your brain. It just makes things easier to see and indicates if there is a haemorrhage or haematoma, tumours and so on,” he said as a matter of fact.

  I marvelled at how he could say all that without running out of breath. He injected me and told me to lie very still as any movement would blur the image.

  “No problem doc,” I said. I stayed still as the machine engulfed me, flashing lights and making sounds as if it was firing at me. It was making me feel incredibly claustrophobic! It felt like forever had passed before it finally ended.

  “Okay,” Dr Gem said as he helped me back into the wheelchair. “You can go back to your room now, we will check the scans and give Dr Greendale the results. Matthew, get this place ready for the next MRI please,” he said, addressing us both in the same breath as he looked pointedly at the other man, the man who never spoke.

  “Hey, how did it go, all okay?” Paul asked as he wheeled me back down the hall. He pushed me to the lift and back to my room.

  “Absolutely delightful, can’t think of anything I would have rather done today,” I answered sarcastically.

  “Jake did mention that you are a funny character, I now know what he means,” he said as he gave me a crooked smile. “Lunchtime soon,” he stated as he helped me into bed. “Catch you later.”

  “Yeah. See, you later Paul,” I replied as he left the room. I could tell he considered himself a bit of a joker which was fine in my eyes. At least he was more entertaining than watching the fly that had gotten trapped by my window, slowly die.

  Lunch came at about one-thirty, brought by Nurse Shirley. She placed it down on the slide-over table and looked at me.

  “Doctor Greendale asked me to let you know she will be down to see you at three, so eat up and rest, you need to get your strength back okay?” She tapped me on the arm and left.

  Yet again I was the object of people’s tactile responses. I had already had every part of me examined. Human contact was not welcome nor was Nurse Shirley’s bad breath. You would think she earned enough to buy a flipping tic-tac.

  The food was amazing, grilled chicken with rice and red apples for desert, lovely. I suddenly fancied a nap so I lay down in my bed and slowly drifted into a dreamless sleep.

  I woke up to the sound of someone calling my name. “Mr Slater? Mr Slater are you awake?”

  I turned to see Doctor Greendale standing by the side of my bed. “Yes, I’m awake now, what’s going on?” I asked wiping the sleep from my eyes. I hated the way people would just enter my room and wake me from my sleep. It was the fastest way to pass the time in this place and they made it impossible to get more than an hours sleep at a time.

  “I have the results of the lab tests and the MRI scan. Everything seems to be fine. Your blood results came back normal and the MRI scan was clear, so we can’t seem to find any reason for your blackout. Tell me, has this ever happened before?” she asked in a puzzled voice. She looked intrigued by my unexplainable black outs.

  “Yep, twice before I think, but always at silly moments. I saw a doctor and he said it was due to stress,” I explained.

  “Yes, that can be a cause, in any case we will be releasing you on Friday. I would like you to make an appointment for you to see me in a couple of weeks’ time to make sure you are responding well to your heart medication, and that all’s well.”

  “Yes, I understand,” I said trying to hold in my happiness at the prospect of finally going home.

  “One other thing Mr Slater. I was asked to give you this. It’s the date for the court case against Doctor Fanstick. I wish you luck, you are a nice man who has gone to hell and back. I can see that in your eyes. See you later and get some rest.” She gave me a kind smile and left.

  Supper came, and for the first time in a long while I slept all night. No bad dreams haunted my sleep. Just seven days and then I am out of here, at last …

  Chapter 15

  Good News and Bad News

  I woke up to a bright morning, the sun’s rays flooded my room and gave it a warm feeling. Today I was determined to get as much sorted out as I could before I went home. Getting my affairs in order was a boring task but I had no choice. I hadn’t even seen the balance of my bank account in years or how much money I still had or if my house was in a liveable state. I had no idea.

  Finding out where my wife and child were buried was high on my list as I hadn’t ever had the chance before to go to their graves. The question of my brother being alive came to mind a lot and needed to be confirmed once and for all.

  Regardless of all the things I had to do, the main question of what was real and what was drug induced stilled played games with my mind. Perhaps a visit to my lawyer could provide some of the information I craved. I needed someone to sit me down and explain from start to end what really happened to Sally, Sue and myself.

  I awkwardly managed to haul my body into the wheelchair that was parked by the side of the bed. I wheeled myself down the corridor to find a payphone. My leg had been a
cting up once again. The pains were crippling but I wasn’t going to let that get in my way. Pain had over the years become like a familiar friend. As twisted as that might seem it had always been the only constant in my life.

  I stopped and rolled closer to a male patient who was using the hospital payphone. He was talking to his wife, I believe, telling her not to worry and that she could come to pick him up tomorrow. I didn’t get this concept of love. Perhaps because no one had ever really loved me. Even my wife fell out of love with me. I felt love was a temporary state, not forever.

  Trying to understand what the word love truly meant made me feel like something must have been wrong with me from the beginning. Mother never loved me and yet father would always tell me how lucky I was to have a mother that loved me so much. People had commented on how I had ever managed to end up with such a loving wife, when they had no idea how emotionally stunted and unloving she really was. Love was not a blessing in my life, instead it was more of a curse. Every unbearable, emotionally destructive tear that I shed was a result of the actions of someone I loved. Even my brother never liked me, let alone loved me. Mother had commented at several points in my life why I had no interest in finding a girlfriend. To be honest Sally was the only woman I had ever tried to build a life with. Due to her lack of emotion I thought my emotions were safe from harm. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  I waited for the man to finish, he seemed to take forever. Then the conversation took an overly mature cheddar feel, which made me squirm in my chair. With ‘I love you,’ and ‘I love you more,’ being exchanged. I felt like I was about to vomit on the spot. Can people really be so delusional in their thinking that they actually believe their partner really loves them? Once Romeo got off the phone I had to clean it with the sanitising wipes I carried with me everywhere. God knows what kind of stupid diseases I could get from using the same phone as that slime ball. When the receiver was cleaned to my standard I called the bank. My financial affairs were still in order and all my bills had been paid, I thanked them and hung up. The less time I waste being forced to converse with people the better.

 

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