I felt sick to
my stomach as I drove to my first appointment with a psychologist.
I wondered as I parked my car if other people could tell where I
was headed. Did I look like
something was wrong with me? The parking lot also served a dentist’s office and property
management company, so I told myself I could just as easily be going to
one of those. As I checked
in with the receptionist, I tried to determine if she thought something
was weird about me. I
wondered if she’d ever had anyone lose it, completely freak out in the
waiting room. I considered doing something myself, certainly felt like
screaming, but instead sat quietly, my numb sweaty hands folded politely
in my lap.
After a short
wait, Dr. P. showed me into her office.
I sat in a puffy blue recliner across from her desk.
A fountain bubbled on top of a bookcase, and a scented candle
burned on her desk. One of
the first things she asked me was if I had been dreaming more or less
than usual. I had to
consider the question for a minute, then had to answer, “I haven’t
really been dreaming much lately.”
She scribbled something on her clipboard and I twisted my wedding
ring around my finger and tried to remember to breathe.
Out of nervousness and a desire to break the silence, I added,
“That’s weird. I hadn’t really noticed or thought about it until you
© Salahub 2003