The Harem

by Paul Preston

  “I am?”

  “Yes. You’re in Chapter Fourteen, the section I wrote last night. I’ve used your real name. I might change your first name to Sandrine perhaps, but I can’t think of another suitable last name other than Bichon, which is just the perfect last name. It sounds so French to me. I will, of course, change your name before it ever gets published, if it ever does. Do you see it there? Has it downloaded onto your computer?”

  “Yes. I see it. “The Harem” is real.”

  “Then I wasn’t imagining that I wrote it. Everyone thinks I’m crazy in this place. That’s a relief. I was beginning to doubt whether I wrote it myself. I’ve not gone bonkers after all.”

  “No. You’re not gone, as you say, bonkers. My apologies, Sheremy. I’m sorry for not believing you. I will try to read your manuscript tonight.”

  Dr. Bichon gave the memory stick back to me.

  “Hey, no worries, Doctor. Thank you for reading it. In the end, you may be the only one that ever will…”

  “I’m afraid we are nearly out of time. There is one more issue I need to discuss with you, before we end the session.”

  “OK.”

  “Again, this may be uncomfortable for you, and it’s not my wish to make you feel uneasy, but it’s better to get this out in the open. Please don’t take this the wrong way… The way you winked at me during group yesterday, and when you called me by my first name earlier and told me I was pretty, I’m sensing you have… an attraction to me, Sheremy. Is this true? There’s no need to be ashamed to admit it. It is all very natural and often happens in the course of treatment. Are you sexually attracted to me, Sheremy?”

  Dr. Bichon just came right out and asked it. I was afraid my cheeks had turned a deep shade of red. Beet-red. I told her the truth.

  “I am, Dr. Bishon, but believe me, what I feel… is so much more than just a sexual attraction.”

  “In the process of psychotherapy, which we have begun today, there is what is called in the jargon of our profession, a transference that takes place, often stemming from childhood, from the patient to his or her physician. As the trust and emotional dependence grows into an attachment, the patient often feels a sexual attraction and even romantic love toward his physician. The American Medical Association strictly prohibits any and all intimate relationships with patients, for good reason. There is a power imbalance that exists and when the vulnerable patient is taken advantage of emotionally or sexually, intense feelings of abandonment and betrayal are sure to follow. There have been numerous reported cases of physicians, especially in the field of psychology, who have taken advantage of their patients, receiving fines, public censure and even the loss of their hospital privileges and medical licensure. Contact between a physician and his patient outside of the clinical relationship is forbidden.”

  “Yes, Dr. Bichon. I did a little research on the topic myself last night and I agree, certainly. But how do you feel about contact with former patients?”

  Dr. Bichon did not have an immediate answer. I don’t think she was expecting me to ask that. She took a breath and responded.

  “Based on the power imbalance in the relationship, and the personal information the physician learns during treatment which can be easily exploited, a sexual or romantic relationship with former patients are rendered unethical as well, and would still be considered sexual misconduct by the AMA.”

  I noticed Dr. Bichon was perspiring slightly and took a tissue from her purse and touched her forehead with it. I remained, as they say, cool as a cucumber.

  “Yes. I read that as well, Dr. Bichon. I’m just curious though. I read in a blog written by a medical expert on this subject that most stories involve male doctors taking terrible advantage of female patients. But in this one instance, a woman responded that she and her former doctor had fallen into the unethical relationship of the kind you described, yet they’ve been happily married for eight years. Interesting, don’t you think?”

  Dr. Bichon cleared her throat.

  “Yes… I suppose there are exceptions to every rule.”

  “Also, I did read that in some specialties in medicine a relationship with a former patient may not be seen as unethical if a period of time has passed, such as six months to a year, after the clinical relationship has ended. Have you read that before, Doctor?”

  “Yes, I… I may have read that somewhere before.”

  “Also I was wondering about something. I know that male doctors wouldn’t think twice about throwing their career away for the first pretty patient they see, we all know what men are like. But do you know if there has been any research done on the sexual misconduct of female physicians? The statistics in the article I read didn’t delineate the sex of the physician in the results of the—”

  “No study on this topic has been done, as far as I’m aware.”

  “But say a patient meets his former doctor six or seven months after his treatment is over, and the doctor is single but she still doesn’t allow herself to respond emotionally or sexually to her former patient, even though she’s quite obviously attracted to him. Would you say that it’s possible that the Doctor could be hiding behind this general AMA ruling to avoid developing a meaningful relationship with the former patient, due to her own fear of intimacy?”

  My question left Dr. Bichon speechless. Score one for the mental patient.

  “Sheremy… I must apologize. Our time is up.”

  “Of course. Until tomorrow then. Thanks, Dr. Bichon. It’s been a pleasure to talking to you.”

  “Yes. Of course, Sheremy. Please send Carolyn in, if she’s waiting outside.”

  “I will.”

  I stood up.

  “I hope what I said didn’t make you uncomfortable, but we must be honest, as you say, during the recovery process, right Doctor?” I said with a mischievous smile.

  I didn’t wait for her answer and walked out, shutting the thick white door behind me.

  When I was certain Dr. Bichon couldn’t see me, I peeked in through the small steel mesh window at the top and my heart raced. Dr. Bichon sat down with her laptop and started reading the first page of my novel, “The Harem”.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Dr. Chantelle Bichon

  11/12/12

  I haven’t written in my diary in years. I finally have something to write about.

  I started my new rotation yesterday at Potomac Fields. One of my patients is a 34 year old man named Jeremy. When I introduced myself to the small group, Jeremy winked at me in a flirtatious and subtle manner. I’ve had other patients develop an infatuation with me and I’m quite used to dealing with the transference that naturally occurs between the psychiatrist and patient. Usually I take it all in stride, but this patient made me catch my breath.

  I know it breaks the most fundamental rules of the practice of medicine, but I find myself attracted to this patient. Despite the fact that he looks to be a rather unassuming fellow… dare I say it… Jeremy is quite handsome to me. He’s of medium height, with blonde hair, blue eyes, a thin face and a slender boyish frame. He’s takes very good care of his appearance and is exceptionally well-dressed, which is odd to see in a mental hospital. And he smells good. While most patients I’ve treated in mental hospitals need to be constantly reminded to take care of their personal hygiene, Jeremy smells like soap.

  So despite my position of authority and my years of training and study in the field of medicine, my heart raced like a teenage girl when I first saw this patient. I realize it is in Jeremy’s best interest to remove myself from the case. But when Dr. Billingsley inevitably asks why I wish to have this particular patient assigned to another physician, the admission of my feelings would not only be intensely embarrassing, but could jeopardize my entire career…

  At the end of the group session, after the other three patients had left the room, Jeremy spoke to me. He actually tried to make me laugh by making a funny joke from one of my favorite movies. It was a significant break though for him. He’d be
en admitted to the clinic a month ago and has not spoken or made eye contact with a single person until today. Apparently he chose me to open up to, to confide in. It would be wrong of me now to abandon this patient, so I decided to keep a close watch on my emotions while in treatment and keep my inappropriate feelings to myself. The rest of my rotation went smoothly. I was quite busy doing intake exams of several patients, I thought about Jeremy several times.

  I dreamed about him last night. I was walking down the hallway of the clinic. Everyone was asleep. I paused at the open doorway of Jeremy’s room and looked in for a long time, watching him sleep. Suddenly, as if he was wide awake the whole time, he turned over in bed and sat up. In a warm and friendly manner, Jeremy smiled and invited me to enter his room by patting the space beside him. Though I wanted to go in, I didn’t move a muscle. Then I heard a pair of footsteps coming down the hallway, approaching me. It was the Head Nurse, Butch McAdams, who had showed me around the facilities yesterday. While giving me the tour, I had noticed him glancing down at my breasts once or twice. Nurse McAdams stopped when he saw me and then looked into the room. Jeremy appeared to be fast asleep in his bed. Strange…

  11/13/12

  I stayed up until the early morning hours to finish reading The Harem. From a personal standpoint, I have to admit, I enjoyed it. It reminded me of the books of Anais Nin I had read in high school. Though I’m ashamed to say it, I found the novel rather sexy.

  On a professional level, it needs further study. If Jeremy’s story was more truth than fiction, I was intrigued by how he created the sexual fantasy of a Harem in his home to help him recover from the psychological shock of his wife’s infidelity and the subsequent breakup of his marriage. By writing the story, he turned the pain of his wife’s betrayal into a kind of therapy for himself. He created this uber-masculine alter ego to conquer his anxiety about being able to sexually fulfill women. In his fantasy life, he became the Dominant, Master J that the three submissive women swooned over. What he couldn’t seem to do in real life, he did in fiction. It was fascinating.

  One particular line near the beginning struck me as psychologically interesting, “Around this time, a traumatic event in my life occurred, which I don’t wish to discuss in this journal, now or in the future.”

  I assume the trauma event he was referring to was the death of his father, which he depicted in the story. What did he mean by this? Was there a relation between the death of his father and the infidelity of his wife?

  I can see why Jeremy didn’t want to show the actual novel to Dr. Billingsley. Depicted as a zombie-like butler in the story, he may very well be offended by it, though it was Alfred Billingsley who nursed Master Jeremy back to health in the story.

  And it was strange seeing my name in the pages of an erotic romance! After meeting me just once, he wrote me into his story, rescuing my character from the corrupt obsessed cop, Officer Butch McAdams. Had he noticed Nurse McAdams standing a little too close to me yesterday? Jeremy must’ve picked up on his unwanted advances toward me.

  In the book, Jeremy tried to cure himself of his personal traumas, as well as help the three female patients in his therapy group with their even more serious and complex problems. I was slightly concerned about the sexual encounters depicted between the literary version of Jeremy and Sara/Sapphire, Cynthia/Carolyn and Eloise/Eve; I was fairly convinced there was no actual sexual contact between Jeremy and the three women at the clinic. I decided to go early to Potomac Fields anyway and talk to Jeremy if he was awake just to make sure. Then I planned on meeting with Dr. Billingsley in his office at 7:30 to give him an update before we do rounds.

  On the drive over to the clinic, I kept thinking about our discussion at the end of our session yesterday. While I tried to create boundaries between us as Doctor and patient, Jeremy somehow was able to expose my most secret issue: my fear of intimacy with men.

  “Would you say that it’s possible that the doctor could be hiding behind this general AMA ruling to avoid developing a meaningful relationship with the former patient, due to her own fear of intimacy?”

  It was the only time in an interview when a patient used my reasoning against me. I think Jeremy was right. If after a period of time passed, it would not be seen as inappropriate for a doctor to associate with a former patient. However I would be on the West Coast in LA starting my Fellowship Year in six months, so the question of a future between us was not at issue. The one thing I could do was help him now as a physician and get him released from Potomac Fields, if possible, during my two week rotation there.

  When I arrived at the clinic, I stopped in to check with the overnight nurse to familiarize myself with the new admissions that had come in overnight and review the charts of the admitted patients. Afterwards, I walked through the quiet corridors toward Jeremy’s room. All the patients were still asleep, except for one, of course. I paused briefly, peeking in and saw Jeremy lying in bed, his closed laptop on the table beside him, his eyes shut. Before I could turn to leave, he opened the slits of his eyes and sat up, excitedly. Had he been in the midst of composing yet another of his kinky erotic scenes when he heard footsteps, closed his laptop and pretended to be asleep?

  Just as in my dream, Jeremy gestured for me to join him in his room.

  “Good morning, Dr. Bichon!”

  “Shhh… Sheremy, all the patients are still asleep.”

  “Oh yes, sorry. Why don’t you shut the door? We could have some privacy.”

  “I’m doing pre-rounds. I only have a moment. Why aren’t you asleep? I could prescribe you a sleeping aid to help you rest.”

  “No thanks. I usually get my ideas in the middle of the night and I don’t want to be knocked out when I’m inspired to write. How did you sleep last night, Dr. Bichon?”

  “I slept well, thank you.”

  “Did you get a chance to do a little light reading last night? Perhaps an erotic romance novel?” Jeremy asked.

  “I did.”

  “And what did you think of the story,” Jeremy asked with a slight trepidation in his voice.

  I smiled.

  “If you ever want to be discharged from Potomac Fields, I wouldn’t talk about yourself in the third person, Sheremy.”

  “Good advice, Doctor. So, the novel?”

  “I found it… illuminating. I do think I understand you much better now that I’ve read it and may be able to better assist you here. I found it interesting how you worked through the sadness of your father’s passing in your story. We can discuss all this further in our next session, but I have a few questions. They may be uncomfortable and painful for you to answer, but I have to ask them. And I need you to be completely honest in your response. Can you do that?”

  “I can.”

  “I realize ‘The Harem’ is a work of fiction, but did some of the events occur in real life as they did in your novel?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “A month ago, when you had your nervous breakdown, your family and friends were gathered at your house to comfort each other after your father’s funeral. Was your wife with you that day, Jeremy?”

  “No.”

  “Forgive me for being so blunt, but at the beginning of your novel you walk in on your wife engaging in sexual intercourse with another man. Did this actually happen? In reality?”

  Jeremy looked away, staring at a point on the opposite wall.

  “Sheremy?”

  He nodded.

  “I see. That must have been quite painful. I’m so sorry she betrayed you. Tell me Sheremy. Is there a connection between your father’s death and your wife’s infidelity? If I may ask, exactly when did the infidelity take place? Do you remember, Sheremy? When did you discover your wife having sex with that actor?”

  “When?”

  “Yes. When was it? Was it… close in proximity to the time when your father passed away? Sheremy?”

  He nodded again.

  “Did you discover your wife’s infidelity… on the same
evening your father died? Is that when it happened? Sheremy?”

  Jeremy took a breath and closed his eyes to compose himself.

  “Yes…”

  “I see. That explains a lot, Sheremy. It must have been devastating for you.”

  “It wasn’t one of my better days.”

  “I’m sorry that happened to you… Now I must ask one more question now. Sheremy… have you had any sexual contact in the ward with Carolyn, Eloise, Sara or any of the other patients or staff at Potomac Fields?”

  “No… Absolutely not. I have had no physical contact with anyone at this hospital in the four weeks I’ve been here. You’re the first person I’ve spoken to Dr. Bichon. I hear McAdams coming. I recognize his footsteps.”

  I looked over my shoulder and Nurse McAdams was indeed on his way down the corridor at a quickening pace. Seeing the door ajar, McAdams entered briskly. Jeremy pretended to be asleep.

  “Dr. Bichon, is everything alright in here?”

  “Yes, yes, it’s fine.”

  “What are you doing in here?” Nurse McAdams had the effrontery to ask.