On the Rocks with a Twist

continued from page 3 obligingly accompanied the crew to a padded cell where he was straightjacketed for a time. It was then that I caught the glance of a well kempt middle aged male patient who seemed to regard the melee with the same calm wonder that I did. He did not appear to be delusional, agitated or depressed. His demeanor begged the question: “What is a guy like that doing here?” I approached and engaged him in what promised to be relaxed conversation in the eye of a tornado of the distressed. We spoke at length, constantly on the move to distance ourselves from paroxysms of angry or frightened cries. He spoke candidly and at length about his life. I observed and conveyed to him my sense that in contrast to the presumably dehumanizing experiences of the marginalized souls that surrounded us, his story seemed benign and his confinement, inexplicable and even unfair. He noted that he appreciated my listening as no one had given him a respectful audience since his arrival. He inferred that although I was yet untutored in matters of the mind, the mere power of my compassion was sufficient to help him to begin to discern the choices he would have to make to find a new positive direction to his life.

He then steered the conversation to me – my upbringing, my mother and father and what he divined as the weight of their collective expectations for me as I considered the choices I faced in my medical education and career. He offered counsel regarding what he perceived to be the challenge of maintaining the strength of relationships in the midst of the demands of a life in Medicine. His earnest concern and remarkable insight reinforced my sense of him as a special “regular guy.”It came to be time for my group to leave. We shook hands and he remarked with intense sincerity: “You made me feel so comfortable talking to you, opening up to you. You are gifted in that way and you should consider a career in Psychiatry. Thank you for helping me figure some things out”. As we were being ushered to the door, making way for the next group of students, I dallied a bit. I surveyed the room buoyed by the feeling that I might have serendipitously found my calling. I seemed to have a natural capacity to offer help to these lost souls.

I returned my attention to the paralyzed man wondering how I might straighten him out. As I did, another patient, a pale, long-haired and bearded fellow wearing a flowing white robe, sandals and a beatific countenance approached him. His arms outstretched, he motioned the seated man to rise up and walk. In response, the fellow rose slowly to his feet. There followed a tearful embrace. No one else noticed.

Exiting the ward, I turned to grab a final glimpse of the patient with whom I had shared such a mutually uplifting encounter. I saw that he had apparently been engaged in conversation with a female student. They parted but not before I observed him take hold of her hand and warmly proclaim: “Thank you! You have a gift! You made me so comfortable talking to you! You should consider becoming a Psychiatrist!”