by Queau, Amy
After twenty minutes, and two pages of a book by H.P. Lovecraft, he resigned. He couldn’t concentrate and found his head swimming with morbidity and melancholy. His eyelids were still heavy and the thought of the amount of energy that would be required for anything was exhausting.
I should just go back to bed.
He didn’t bother putting the strewn books back in their place as he headed back upstairs.
“Hey! Where are you goin’?” Jake asked, coming through the front door.
“Upstairs.”
“Hey, wait! I saw Charlie tonight. Damn! How much weight has she lost? Have you hit that shit yet?”
“No.” Avoiding the conversation with Jake, he retreated to his room for the evening.
*
After sleeping for another six hours, Jesse awoke to the sun crawling across his bedroom. He tried to cover his face to keep the day away, but he had a shift that morning and had to muster up the energy to get into the shower. Defeated, he wiped the crust from his eyes and crept to the bathroom.
The hours of his days had been long and inched slowly, from the sun entering his bedroom in the morning to the glow from the moon in the evening. He continued working, but found himself going to the restaurant on days he wasn’t scheduled, and missing the days he was. Soon, his employment was in jeopardy.
With a dull headache and a hollow stomach, Jesse arrived at work. His shoulders slouched and his eyes moved slower and out of sync with the rest of his body.
“Hey Jesse, can we talk a minute?” Ben asked.
Jesse ducked his head down and followed Ben to the office in the back. Opening the door and trying to clear spaces for the two of them to sit, Ben gestured for Jesse to sit across from him at the desk.
The room was small and getting smaller by the minute. The walls were slowly moving toward each other and Jesse began feeling miniature.
“Look, I realize you’re going through some shit right now. I get it. I see it. It’s none of my business really, but if you need to talk--” Ben’s demeanor was calm and cool.
“I’m fine. I don’t need to talk to anybody.”
“That’s cool. But I’m here, if ever you decide you need to. But that brings me to my next subject. Now, normally I would just wait for this thing of yours to pass, but Lawrence is starting to notice your erratic behavior. You missed two days last week, and called in sick the week before…” Ben was trying to get his attention, but Jesse kept his head down.
“I’m not going to write you up today. But it will go down on your file that I’ve given you a verbal warning. You just gotta pull your shit together enough to remain unnoticed. However long this funk is going to reign is your business. But…I do give a shit. So, just lean on whomever you need to right now and get through this. Call Charlie, call a doctor, someone. Everything can be fixed; nothing is permanent, including your current problem.”
“Can I open the door?” Jesse was still fixated on relieving his claustrophobia.
“Um, sure. I guess. I just need you to sign here, confirming that we spoke today.” Ben gave a hesitant smile and handed Jesse a pen. “Maybe you should see a doctor--” Ben murmured.
Jesse scribbled his name and walked out to punch in.
*
A lonely and draining routine kept him in a horrible state. With no motivation to ride, no will to speak, and no overwhelming urge to spend money or enjoy things anymore, Jesse just lay in bed or moped around the house.
His body was heavy and nothing seemed real. Neglecting himself, he didn’t eat, didn’t shower or brush his teeth. He was trapped. Self-loathing and remorse were illuminated by the copious amounts of alcohol he was consuming. With not a hint of light at the end of the tunnel, he continued his routine: Wake, drink. Nap, drink. Work, drink. Sleep.
He visited a psychiatrist once, for about two months, and hadn’t completely written off the experience as fatuous. He’d had to visit the doctor once a year to update his dosages, but never really invested himself in the process. So upon Ben’s suggestion, and fearing for his job, he made an appointment but hadn’t decided yet whether or not he would disregard it.
He found himself outside the doctor’s office the next day, not remembering if that was the time he had scheduled the appointment. Time had been bouncing from slow to fast for days. As it was, he couldn’t even remember if it had been a few days or weeks since he had seen Charlie.
He pulled on the handle and sluggishly made his way inside.
The waiting room was small, too small. The carpet was gray, the walls white. Stepping to the desk, he said his name, and after he was handed a booklet of forms to fill out he found an uncomfortable seat in the corner.
“Jesse?” a man said, peeking his head around the corner. “Follow me.”
He directed Jesse to an office with a large window where the sun shining in was too bright. Jesse didn’t like the light, but didn’t want to feel like he was boxed in, either. He realized that these two thoughts alone were more than he’d required his brain to compose in weeks.
“So, what can I do for you? It’s been only six months since I saw you last. Need an adjustment in your meds?” the doctor asked, gesturing for him to take a seat. “You said on the phone that you have been having difficulties at work and in your personal life?”
“Yes.” Jesus. What else did I tell them?
“Look Jesse, these things can be difficult. You’ve been coming to my office for ten years now, wanting refills on your meds. But you have a serious condition. Can I try to convince you that psychotherapy may benefit you as well?”
“I’m here, I’ll try. But I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to remember all of the appointments I set. I’m having issues with…time.”
“Understood. Why don’t you just make two appointments a week? My caseload isn’t overwhelming right now, so just set something up with Shelly at the front desk and you can try to make it to one of the appointments you set each week. Sound good?” Doctor Jackson said.
Jesse nodded.
“Now, you said you’re having issues with time. Has this been ongoing or is this new?”
“It’s new I guess.” Jesse shrugged.
“When was your initial bipolar diagnosis, again?” The doctor retrieved Jesse’s file from his desk and began thumbing through it. “Ah yes. Now I remember. It was your little sister--”
“Yep.”
“Would you like to talk about her?” Jackson asked.
“Nope.”
“No pressure. What would you like to talk about?”
Jesse shifted in his seat and looked away.
“Okay. Well, we’re not getting anywhere here, Jesse.” The doctor exhaled, “Why don’t you tell me about your current state of depression and when it began...”
The hour passed slowly. Jesse tried his best to answer the doctor’s questions, but his focus was on his drooping eyelids and need for a drink. After scheduling a month’s worth of appointments at the front desk, his pace quickened to get out the door. He moved faster than he thought he was capable.
A week passed with only slight improvement in his mood. But his interest in anything besides sleep, and booze, was minimal.
He managed to remember an appointment with Jackson the next week. Finding himself in the lobby with his arms crossed over his torso, he slung his ankle over his knee.
“You can go on back, Jesse,” Shelly said.
Walking into Jackson’s office, Jesse found it empty. He took a seat where he had the week before and looked around the room. There were framed certificates on the walls, photos of family on the desk, and a child’s artwork sitting on the floor patiently waiting to be hung. It wasn’t typical of a highly-paid psychiatrist, more like a therapist that volunteers at a sliding-fee community center.
Jesse saw his case file on top of the stack on Jackson’s desk. He quickly grabbed it and opened to the first page.
Case File # 121774-3249
Subject Name: Jesse James Anders (Jesse James Sanborn
)
D.O.B.: 17-November, 1987
Address: 1816 Burnsville Parkway, Burnsville, MN 55337
Contact: 953-443-4309 (last known working phone, no longer in service)
Single Caucasian Male
0 children/dependents
No religion specified
Chief Complaint from Patient: UPDATED: “I’m having troubles with time. I can’t remember when I’m scheduled to work. I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel numb. And, I’m drunk.” – Message taken by staff member Shelly Gleason over the phone on September 6, 2012.
Notes: Patient first seen in by Dr. Jackson on August 4, 2003, after complaints of previous doctor not using effective treatment methods. After refusal of psychotherapy, patient has been seen regularly by Dr. Jackson to update his prescriptions.
Initial Diagnosis: ADHD, victim of severe physical abuse by biological parents and two foster fathers before the age of 15. Other detachment disorders noted, but not specified as patient is reluctant to discuss childhood.
Date of Diagnosis: March 1997 by Dr. Ralph Carlson, MD, before referred to our offices in 2003. (see attached notes from Dr. Carlson)
Current Diagnosis: Bipolar I (initial diagnosis retracted after prescribed medication failures to ease symptoms). Many of his symptoms are atypical of a standard bipolar 1 diagnosis and patient has been urged to explore psychotherapy.
Date of Current Diagnosis: December 2003
History: Born in St. Paul, MN to John and Melinda Sanborn. No known complications with childbirth or mental health history before ten years of age. Father, John, worked for a manufacturing plant, and mother, Melinda, a domestic engineer. Mother had a bipolar diagnosis but remained unmedicated throughout patient’s childhood. Have not been able to reach patient’s biological parents for confirmation.
Patient describes his social life before ten as “normal.” Received good grades, had many friends, adjusted well to new situations, etc. Patient refuses to discuss the death of his sister, Mandy, and when asked general questions about his family life through childhood, he chooses not to respond. (see attached interview with father and Dr. Carlson, discussing initial diagnosis and circumstances surrounding “Mandy’s” death.)
Marriage, Education and Occupational History: Patient is single, but dating. One significant relationship to date. Patient is heterosexual with a history of promiscuity with multiple partners.
High school diploma and one year complete of community college. Social situations through school presented challenges for patient in communication and focus.
Occupational history includes: restaurant industry, warehouse, USA Cycling National Championships cross-country and other competitions, and briefly, the US Marines.
High risk behaviors include: Alcohol abuse, marijuana abuse, aggression, and a history of police confrontation.
Current living/social situation: Lives with friend, Jake, and Jake’s father, Dennis, in a single-family home in suburb of Minneapolis, MN. He rents out a single room in the home. Patient describes social situations as solitary or few friends of note. Patient is highly intelligent (see attached MMPI and Weschler results), but prefers an environment of low risk and low challenge.
Summation and Notes:
Initial visit in 2003: Patient was brought by acting foster mother, Lily Lamoureaux, to our offices at fourteen years of age. Patient’s overall appearance was clean and appropriate. Eye contact minimal and very few words spoken. Ms. Lamoureaux described patient as “sad, confused and broken.” Patient evasive and bouncing knee with arms folded in front of chest. Posture was slouched and showed ambivalence. Patient was alert, but hostile when asked specific questions of state-of-mind, depression and previous foster care. Ms. Lamoureaux described his past situation as “unfortunate and unloving” and “abusive, neglectful and punishable.” (see enclosed audio recording of initial visit - #A3328)
Anxiety visibly increased in patient as Ms. Lamoureaux described previous foster living arrangements and previous biological parental abuse, along with the death of patient’s sister, “Mandy.”
Initial diagnosis of ADHD by Dr. Carlson in question.
Hospitalizations and Interventions: Patient suffered head trauma as a result of a social altercation in 2012. Previous hospitalizations before in my care are noted in Dr. Carlson’s file (see attached).
Medications: (see full history and side effects attached)
Lithium; 2004-2008.
Seroquel 2008-present.
Lorazepam 2008-present.
Jackson walked in and apologized for his tardiness just as Jesse was throwing his file back on the desk.
“Shall we begin?” Jackson said.
“Sure.”
“So, last week we were talking about your bipolar and how it’s affecting your job. How did your week go?”
“It was fine. I made it to all my shifts, late only once,” Jesse said.
“Good. Have you been taking your medication?”
“Yeah, I think so. I might have missed a day, I can’t remember.”
“Okay then. Let’s get to the next subject. When you initially spoke with Shelly on the phone, you mentioned that your depression is affecting your personal life. Tell me about that.”
Jesse shrugged and slung his ankle over his knee. Jackson waited patiently as Jesse found his words.
“There’s a girl. Her name is Bree. She knows about my…everything; my illness. She hates it, she doesn’t handle it well. But she keeps coming back.”
“How does that make you feel?” Jackson asked.
Can I just go home and sleep now? Really, Doc? Could you be any more of a cliché? Jesse rolled his eyes and Jackson smirked.
“How long were the two of you together?” Jackson asked.
“We were off and on for about two years. We broke up about five years ago.”
“And how is your depression affecting this situation?”
“I’m just, tired. I can’t focus on anything long enough to figure it all out.” Jesse took a long pause. “I just want everyone to stay the fuck away from me.” Jesse could feel emotion. His blood began to simmer as he considered his responsibilities, the decisions he should be making, the flood of people counting on him: Lily, Charlie, Ben, Lawrence, Jake, and Bree. “I usually just walk away from it all, but this shit keeps coming back. I want to make it go away for good.”
“So then you’ve considered allowing her back in your life?” Jackson asked.
“Yeah, I’ve considered it.”
“And, do you feel that would be a good decision for you?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Jackson probed.
“Because she’s…she’s…” Jesse stopped to think. “She sucks up all my energy when I have none to spare. When I’m with her, she’s all I think about, I ignore work and friends. I become weak and obsessed.”
“Tell me more about the relationship you had with her,” Jackson said.
“I was really young, and she was even younger. It was wrong in so many ways, but I couldn’t resist her. She was so sweet,” Jesse said, recalling their early relationship. “But she was really young, and I wouldn’t have sex with her, despite her wanting to. So, I cheated on her, a few times. She found out about them and we broke up. End of story.”
“And you say she’s been back to see you since then?”
“Yeah, a few years ago she found me. We didn’t start dating exactly, we just began the kind of relationship we couldn’t have when she was underage. I became jealous, obsessive, controlling. I demanded to know where she was constantly and didn’t trust her,” Jesse said, looking down.
“Why didn’t you trust her?”
“Probably because I didn’t trust myself. But she was having sex with other guys, so I guess my instincts were right.”
“And now?” Jackson asked.
“She came to see me a few weeks ago. She wants me back. I hadn’t thought about her for a while. And there’s another girl now, too. We’re just friends, but she
makes me want to be… she makes me feel hopeful. Like…almost like I could be good again. Maybe, someday.”
“So then the question you should ask yourself is: In comparing the two, which one do you think is better for you and your future?”
Jesse’s eyes shot up and stared through Jackson. He didn’t think this simple question would have such an obvious answer.
Chapter Eight
Waking the next morning, he felt refreshed – not like the previous weeks of sleeping that had left him only wanting more. He rode his bike that day; two miles. He was starting to notice a break in the depression, a dim arrival of a light in the distance.
He showered. Shaved. He even spent an hour enjoying a video game. He stretched. He yawned. He prepared himself lunch. It felt incredible being able to remember accomplishing all these things.
*
“Hey Ma, what time is the thing tonight?” Jess asked, when his mother answered the phone.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” She laughed. “Eight o’clock. It’s at the boat house at your Uncle Al’s. He’s set up the canopies and lights out back. Do you remember how to get there?” she asked.
“Yeah, I remember. Do I have to dress up for this?”
“Nah, jeans and a nice shirt. They’ll just be happy you’re coming. Will you be bringing Jake?” she asked.
“No, I’m bringing my friend, Charlie. We probably won’t stay long.”
“Great! I look forward to meeting him. We’ll see you at eight – gotta run! Love you!”
Him? He laughed. I guess I didn’t clarify. Jess hung up the phone and walked over to his closet. Jeans and a nice shirt. Hmmm. I wonder what Charlie is gonna wear. I should call her.
“Hey.”
“Hey there. We still on for tonight?” Charlie asked.
“Yeah, I just talked to Ma, it starts at eight. I can pick you up around seven thirty. It’s pretty casual, but feel free to wear thigh highs, a garter, and a matching bra.” He smiled.