Chapter Twelve
THERAPY
I sat next to Maya on a couch in the therapist’s office. Out the window, on a turf field, tiny girls in blue and white uniforms played soccer in the Indian summer sun. Calder slumped in a chair near the therapist’s desk, an awkward arrangement. I could see why Maya might be invited into the first few minutes of Calder's sessions, but her attendance during the entire session had been going on for a month now.
“Do you like to play chess, Calder?” Mr. Ettinger, the therapist, asked. Calder made no reply as he sat cross-legged in the round swivel chair, picking at one of his shoelaces.
“Is there another game you like to play?” Still no reply from Calder. Maya breathed heavily. This guy wasn’t getting through to Calder whatsoever.
“Uh, he likes computer games...” Maya tried to throw this guy a life raft, but in my book, he had already drowned. At the end of the session, Calder waited outside in the waiting room while Maya and the therapist spoke alone.
“I want to suggest that we try Calder on some meds. I know he’s young, but they may help him to rewire his brain. I think they may help with the depression and the anxiety.”
No way my son is going on meds, buddy.
“Meds? Like what kind of meds?”
“Something like Prozac. Prozac helps increase the levels of serotonin in the brain. It’s possible the trauma of his father’s death altered Calder's brain chemistry to a point where he’s becoming wired for depression. The serotonin may help to reverse that trend. Give him a sense of what being happier feels like, perhaps giving him a little more control of his emotions.”
“But he’s so young.”
“He is young. We would just try it for a while and see how it goes. I’m not thinking it will be a long term solution. I admit there is very little research that’s been done on the effects of these SSRIs on the brains of children, but I’ve seen some great outcomes with many of my patients.”
“So you think Calder's depressed?”
“I think he’s in grief, and grief can bring on depression and anxiety in anyone, including children. From what I’ve observed, he seems withdrawn, prone to tears, easily frustrated, and from what you’ve told me, he’s somewhat hyperactive at home and destructive to himself with the skateboarding. You’ve also told me how difficult it is for you to leave him at school or with a babysitter.”
“Impossible, yeah...” Maya reached over and pulled a Kleenex from the box and wiped her eyes. “I just don’t know what to do anymore.”
“Those are all symptoms that could be helped with a medication like Prozac. I’m suggesting we try him on a low dose and see how he does. If there’s no change, we can try something else.”
“I just worry about what meds could do to his developing brain.”
“Maybe take some time to think about it, do a little research, and we can talk again during the next session.”
In the car on the way home, Calder started crying. A sudden gust of wind blew a flurry of fallen leaves across the windshield as the autumn sky turned an ominous color with the threat of rain. A murder of crows flew overhead.
“Why do I have to go to dumb therapy? I hate that guy! He’s stupid!”
“He’s not stupid, Cald.”
“All he does is ask me dumb questions about what games I play or who my friends are and stuff.”
“I know it’s hard to understand, sweetie, but I think you should keep going, at least for a little while longer.”
“Noooooo! I hate therapy! I hate my life!”
Calder's right, Lenie. The guy’s a crock. What kind of therapist has a mom sit in on every session? Calder's not going to open up with you sitting there. And meds? That’s bullshit. He just doesn’t want to do any real work. Find another therapist, Maya.
“Do you want to get a Dick’s burger for dinner?”
Calder wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Do I still have to go to a therapist?”
“I don’t know. Let’s talk about it again later.”
“K. Can I get a cheeseburger? And a chocolate shake?”
I wished I could go with them. Taste that gooey burger with its fake orange cheese, juices squirting as I took a bite...
“Having fun fantasizing?” Alice smirked at me. “You’re just making it harder for yourself, you know. Clinging to human desires.”
“I can’t help it. I miss my desires. I miss Dick’s burgers.”
“Not my thing. I’d prefer a sliver of foie gras on a cracker with an excellent Merlot.”
“You are a mystery, Alice. Who are you really?”
“If you must know, in one of my lives, I was quite aristocratic. I got used to the finer things, you might say.”
“The mystery deepens. Why were you assigned to me?”
“We were paired because we could challenge one another. We have a lot we can teach each other.”
“I’m learning from you, that’s for sure. But what could you possibly be learning from me?”
“Besides patience?” Alice smirked, showing a small dimple in her right cheek that I hadn’t noticed before.
“Hey!”
“I’m learning to have fun.”
“You have a sly sense of humor, Alice.”
“Thank you, Jay. You’re teaching me that a sense of humor can have a place in the spirit world. You’ve helped me see the positive qualities of being human. My focus until I met you was about trying to extricate the human qualities from the spirit. In my work with you, I am beginning to see that the two can never truly be separated. Human and spirit must coexist even in this realm. I see there are benefits to being in touch with your humanness as a spirit, just as there are benefits to being in touch with one’s spirituality as a human.”
“I’m glad my failings as a spirit can help you out.”
“No, Jay, that’s not what I–”
“I’m kidding, Alice. I get what you mean. And I think you’re right. No spirit can completely lose their humanness.”
“Indeed, humans are flawed. A human is driven by an ego that’s represented by the human body. The ego cloaks a human’s True Self, that expanse that can’t be seen, the expanse you are now discovering. An ego is like the tiny tip of an iceberg that’s visible above the surface of the water, but the True Self is the mountain of ice that hides beneath.”
“Nice analogy,” I said, eliciting a smile from Alice.
“Thank you. I’m glad you understand. But enough about me. How are you coming along with Calder?”
“Not great, I’m afraid. The therapist has been a flop. He wants to put my son on anti-anxiety meds.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“It’s a complete crock. Meds are the last thing Calder needs.”
“Why are you so certain of that?”
“Because they could alter his brain chemistry. Meds feed the body, not the spirit. Isn’t that what we’ve just been talking about with all that ego stuff?”
“You are right, Jay, of course, but humans alter their brain chemistry on a daily basis.”
“It doesn’t mean my son should. He’s just a kid.”
“So a baby cold medicine is OK, but an SSRI is not?”
“No. Well. A baby cold medicine is harmless. ”
“Is it?”
“OK, Alice, you’ve made your point. But Maya could be doing more. Like not giving into Calder so much and finding a better therapist.”
“Maya's in grief, Jay. Having the presence of mind for dealing with a difficult child right now is not easy for her. And besides, have you forgotten your own experience with therapists?”
The floor did its disappearing act and I found myself at old Dr. Al’s office, a room infused with the aroma of old men, cigars, and urine. I leaned back in the tattered leather chair, my long, teenaged legs sprawled out in front of me as I pretended to sleep.
&
nbsp; “There are many opportunities for you to sleep, Mr. Cavor. This is not one of them. Your mother is paying me good, hard-earned money for you to come see me each week.”
“Yeah, well I wish she wouldn’t bother. It’s a waste of time.”
“What makes you say that?”
“All we do is sit here and talk about dumb stuff.”
“What would you prefer to talk about?”
“Anything but my dead dad.”
“OK. Name it.”
“Uh. I can’t really think of anything right now.”
“Sports?”
“Nah.”
“Girls?”
“No.”
“Your mom?”
“God, no.”
I guess old Dr. Al finally admitted to my mom that he wasn’t getting anywhere with me, and I stopped going. My mom and I both slid into a complacency around my dad’s death. We didn’t speak of it much, which seemed to suit us both fine.
“Another therapist might help,” Alice said, popping me out of the memory, “but don’t dismiss the use of medication. It could possibly help Calder. And don’t forget you have the ability to help him too.”
“How?”
“Talk to him.”
“Alice, I know you’re all into this human-as-spirit thing, but I’m not sure my ghostly conversations with Calder are getting through to him.”
“Oh, Jay, you must have more faith in yourself.”
“I’m just not sure he remembers our conversations. And I wish I could talk with Maya in the same way.”
“He remembers on a subconscious level if not a conscious one. The child’s mind can still very much access this realm. It’s sad that humans lose that ability to see and hear us as they get older.”
“Yeah. I hope you’re right about Calder.”
“I am all knowing, Jay. ”
This time it was my turn to laugh. “See, you have an excellent sense of humor!” Then, with a twinkle of light, she was gone.
***
I don’t know what compelled me to turn my attention to Calder at that particular moment. He was at the school playground with Maya who was distracted, talking with one of the other moms. Calder and another kid his age were practicing their “ollies”, a sort of skateboard flip, at the bottom of a wheelchair ramp that led up the entrance of the school, which was perched on a hill. Beside the ramp, there was a wide, steep set of steps up to the ornate front doors. Because of the height of the incline, the wheelchair ramp was unusually long and made two hairpin turns as it made its way down to the playground. High school kids often tested their skateboard skills there by attempting to ride down the entire ramp. It was notoriously dangerous, with quite a few wipeouts ending in visits to the ER. Calder was strictly forbidden to skateboard on the upper levels of the ramp. Lately, he’d been testing his limits with Maya and running up to try and skate with the older boys who usually made him just watch until Maya found him and marched him home. On this day, the ramp was deserted and I saw Calder look over at his mother and whisper to his friend. They picked up their skateboards and, with a last furtive glance at their moms, ran to the top. For once, none of the high school kids were around and so there were no obstacles stopping them from what they were about to do. At the top of the ramp, Calder dropped his board and stood for a moment with one foot on it.
“That’s scary, dude,” the other kid said. “I can’t go down that.”
“Why? Are you a chicken?” Calder taunted.
“No! I just don’t want to die,” the kid said.
“Well, I don’t care if I die,” Calder said.
He stood, rolling the skateboard back and forth with his foot. He seemed to be deciding whether or not to go.
Don’t do it, Cald.
“I’m gonna do it!” he said suddenly, as he pushed off. He rolled down the first ramp, slowly at first, picking up speed as he came into the first curve. He managed a wobbly turn around the bend, steadying himself on the handrail, but picked up more speed along the straightaway. The second ramp was longer and the curve was backed by a brick wall. If he continued and didn’t make the next turn, he would slam into the wall. If he did make it, the ramp ended in a sidewalk which opened onto the park’s busy parking lot where he could go hurling into parked cars. It wouldn’t be a good outcome, no matter what happened. He was going too fast and I expected him to jump off the board at any second, but a determined look came over his face. A part of me was proud of him in that moment. You had to admire the kid’s courage. Just then, Maya looked up and screamed, startling him. He tilted sideways and scraped his shoulder against the side wall of the ramp as his body flew into the air.
I instinctively tried to block him from slamming his head into the wall. A white flash of light hit him in the chest causing him to rotate slightly in the air so he slammed into the wall with his shoulder instead of the full force of his head. There was a loud crack, and he crumpled to the ground. His skateboard bounced against the wall like a pinball and carried on down the ramp without him.
Maya arrived, crying, “Oh God. Oh God, Calder!!” He lay on the ground moaning. The other mother was already on her cell phone dialing 9-1-1. Maya tried to cover him with a jacket, but he moaned louder and so she took it off. Both mothers knew not to try and move him.
The sirens grew louder and soon three firemen climbed out of a fire truck and came over. One of them kneeled beside Calder while the other two talked with Maya quietly close by. Calder was dazed, and seemed to be in a fair amount of pain. Sarah’s face was white and her hands shook.
“What’s your name, kid?”
“Calder,” he whispered.
“OK, Calder, the firefighter replied. “We’re going to help you. Where does it hurt?”
“My shoulder.”
“OK. We’ll be careful then.” The firefighter eased Calder’s helmet off his head to more moans and felt the back of his head and neck. “Can you wiggle your fingers and toes?”
Calder complied and Maya breathed a sigh of relief.
“You may have broken your collar bone, Calder, but we’ll get you to the hospital so they can take some X-rays. Sound good?”
Calder nodded, his expression serious, and I could tell he was on the verge of tears. As the firefighter checked Calder’s vitals he asked, “So how’d you get yourself into this mess? Your mom says you tried to skateboard all the way down that ramp?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Maya was crouched down beside the firefighter. “Why would you do that, Calder? You know it’s dangerous. And I’ve forbidden you to skateboard here. You could have died,” she said.
“I wanted to die.” Calder looked at her, his expression hard.
“Hey, hey now. Why would you want to die?” the firefighter asked.
“So I could go and see my dad.” The firefighter looked up at Maya, surprised. Maya looked stricken and then started to cry. Only then did I realize how serious things with Calder had become.
Later that night I visited Calder as he drifted off to a medicated sleep.
Calder?
Mmm.
Quite a day.
Yeah.
Not a brilliant move, dude.
Maybe not.
Did you really want to die?
I don’t know. Kind of. I want to be with you.
It’s not your time yet, Beano.
Why not? It wasn’t your time yet, was it?
Good point. I didn’t think so, but it’s not something any of us have any control over. For some reason, it was my time.
I hate my life.
It will get better. My dad died when I was young too, remember. I should know. If you die now, think of all the good stuff you’d miss.
Like dumb school?
No. Like fishing in the summer with grampa or growing up and getting married
and having a baby.
I don’t like girls. They’re gross.
They won’t always be gross. Someday you’ll want to kiss one.
Eeww.
Haha. See all the great stuff you’d miss if you died?
But I’d be with you.
You’ll be with me soon enough. Take your time buddy and enjoy this life.
I don’t know how.
That therapist can help with that.
No.
You need to try and stick with it.
Why?
Because talking about my death will help.
It’s stupid. It doesn’t help at all. Under his eyelids, Calder's eyes were dancing their REM dance. His brain waves were in a Theta state, that state of consciousness that makes a human mind most accessible to the spirit realm.
I used to think the same thing. But now I wish I had stuck with it.
You do?
Yeah. If I had, I think I would have been a better dad to you. I wouldn’t have tried to push away the sadness I had when my dad died.
I don’t want to be sad. I want to be a happy person.
I know, buddy. We all do. I did too. But sometimes you have to let yourself be sad. It’s OK. You won’t break.
Are you sad that you died?
Of course. It was a stupid accident. And I miss you and your mom. But things here aren’t so bad.
Did it hurt to die?
I didn’t feel it. It was fast.
That’s good.
It’s so different over here. How I died doesn’t really matter anymore. We’re still growing and changing.
Do you have a body? Calder's breathing deepened as he slipped into a Delta wave state of sleep consciousness.
No. Not really.
What do you do there?
I’m growing up still. I’m learning how to be a better father to you.
But you’re dead. How can you still be my dad?
In lots of ways. Like talking to you the way I am now. I love you,
Remember The Moon Page 13
