Secrets So Deep eBook

by Secrets So Deep [Bella] (mobi)

  “He continues to say that was an accident. Maybe it was. He didn’t seem to have a problem with Stephanie. In fact, he said he liked her.”

  Glynn shook her head in apparent confusion. The idea that her son was in a battle for his life was obviously too much for her—she was suddenly overwhelmed with tears. Charlotte offered a box of tissues and waited for her to regain composure. It was tough sometimes to keep a professional distance, when offering an arm for support seemed like the compassionate thing to do.

  “There’s good news, Glynn. Are you ready for some of that?”

  She nodded, still wiping her eyes and nose.

  “The prognosis for these types of disorders is very good. I feel certain if we get to the root of this, we can push through it and put it in its proper perspective. There’s a good chance if Sebby faces it, he’ll never be threatened by it again.”

  “What do we have to do?”

  “I want you to place him at the Rawlings Center in Hyattsville.” She took out the pages she had printed and passed them across the coffee table. “It’s a residential treatment center for adolescents, and they have a special program for PTSD—the post-traumatic stress disorder I talked about. The director there is Dr. Mark McKee. He has a great deal of experience with these types of cases, and he’s had a lot of success.”

  “Why does he have to live there? Can’t he stay at home and just go to therapy?”

  “Sebby needs twenty-four-hour supervision until we’re sure this suicidal urge has passed.” She regretted her choice of words when she saw Glynn flinch. A subtle, less emotional approach would be better. “Look, it’s a four-week program, Glynn. That’s all. Very intensive. Highly structured. They do one-on-one, group and family therapy, along with lots of individual exercises designed to help Sebby open up and be more confident about what his future holds.”

  Glynn shook her head dolefully. “He’ll never forgive me for doing this to him.”

  “I believe he will. Sebby wants to get well. You know what he told me this morning? He said he caused all of these problems, and it was up to him to fix them. He wants to do that for you. But you have to do it for him too.”

  Charlotte sat back and let Glynn absorb the arguments. It was a lot for her to process, and no easy decision to turn over her child to someone else for care. If she was like most parents, she was feeling right now as if she had failed her son. Nonetheless, Glynn picked up the papers, paying particular attention to the photos.

  “This looks more like a frat house than a hospital.”

  “That’s the whole idea. They want things to be as much like home as possible. It helps diminish the institutional feel. Patients don’t feel so stigmatized.”

  “And what about the family therapy? Do you go there for that, or would Sebby and I come back here?”

  Charlotte was momentarily confused, but then realized Glynn’s inference. “No, everything would be at Rawlings with Dr. McKee. I’ll be releasing Sebby from my care. He’ll no longer be my patient.”

  “Oh.” Glynn’s voice was heavy with disappointment. “But you’ve already begun treatment. We’d have to start everything all over again.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. All I’ve done is the baseline assessment.” Charlotte could have kicked herself for not making this clear the first night she talked to Glynn at the hospital. Sometimes it was too easy to take the basics for granted when other issues were more pressing. “I’m sorry if there’s been a misunderstanding. I took Sebby’s case that night because I was the psychiatrist on call at the hospital. My job, like any other emergency physician, was to stabilize him and determine the best follow-up treatment. That doesn’t mean I’m the best person to help him with his problems. In this case, I’m not. But I think Dr. McKee is.”

  Glynn leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she ran both hands through her hair. “Dr. Blue, I told you things I would never have said had I known you were going to hand us off.”

  “I won’t violate your confidence. You have my word.”

  “But do I have to tell McKee about Stephanie too?”

  “You don’t have to, Glynn, but I promise you Dr. McKee is a professional. He’ll keep your confidences as well. And like I said, I explored it with Sebby and didn’t get a sense that Stephanie was an issue for him.”

  Glynn shook her head and sighed. “What if it comes up in a group therapy thing? A juicy tidbit like that won’t stay a secret long.”

  It definitely posed a risk, Charlotte agreed. “You should address that point with Dr. McKee. I’m sure he can keep it out of play in the group sessions. And you can make it clear to Sebby that the other patients there shouldn’t know.”

  “My son won’t volunteer it. He knows what’s at stake.”

  “What is at stake?” Charlotte knew that question was none of her business, but seeing the self-imposed torture on Glynn’s face made her ask just the same. “You don’t have to answer. I just hate seeing you held hostage for politics’ sake.”

  “It isn’t just politics. It would turn my whole life upside down, my livelihood, my family. And everything I’ve worked for would get devalued just like that.” She snapped her fingers for emphasis.

  Charlotte gave her what she hoped was a compassionate look. Glynn didn’t need more stress or conflict than she already had, and that included having a psychiatrist tell her that her closeted life was unhealthy. “I’m sure they can take precautions to safeguard your confidences.”

  Glynn leaned back and put her fist to her mouth, clearly frustrated.

  “Look, Glynn, what about this? I’ll talk to Mark personally about it, and I’ll make sure he knows the risks.”

  “You know what? Don’t even bother. I just heard myself and realized how ridiculous I sound.” She waved her hand flippantly. “What matters is for Sebby to get well. The rest of this bullshit isn’t even worth thinking about. And I shouldn’t be dragging you into the middle of it. If it comes out, it comes out.” She scooped up the materials on the coffee table and stood. “When do I have to take him?”

  “I can prepare the discharge papers in the morning and you can take him home to pack his things.”

  She sighed. “I hope he doesn’t break out the window in his bedroom and run away.”

  “If you honestly think that’s a possibility, you should just go straight to Rawlings.”

  “No, I’m sure it isn’t. I’m just miserable about doing this to him.”

  “You’re doing it for him, not to him. Please remember that.”

  Glynn nodded and walked to the door. “Thank you for everything. As difficult as this has been, I can’t imagine having to go through it without your help.”

  “You’re welcome.” Charlotte was surprised at the sudden disappointment she felt at realizing she probably wouldn’t see Glynn again. She plucked a business card from the holder on her desk and scribbled her cell phone number on the back—something she had never done for a patient, but justified it to herself because Glynn wasn’t under her care. “If there’s anything else I can answer for you, please give me a call. I’m in sessions a lot during the day, but you can reach me in the evening if you like.”

  “Thank you.” Glynn dropped the card into her purse and smiled. “Will I see you in the morning?”

  “Probably not. I usually do rounds between seven and eight. You go for your treatment then, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but I can change it if you need me to.”

  “It isn’t necessary. I’ll just leave my papers with the nurse in charge.”

  “Okay.” She put out her hand and Charlotte took it. “Thanks again.”

  “I’m glad I could help.” As Glynn turned and walked out the door, Charlotte felt more than a twinge of regret. She had done her best for Sebby, but wished she could do more for his mom.

  Chapter 6

  “. . . I think I have enough on the defense bill, Tina. Tell Roy I appreciate the fax. And he’s right that I probably need to throw Baxter a few crumbs. Get a message t
o him that I’ll vote with him on the highway bill.”

  Glynn spoke quietly into her cell phone, not wanting to call attention to herself in the waiting room on the off-chance she might be recognized. She was determined to keep her breast cancer secret until she completed her treatments and received a positive prognosis. Her public life was already defined by tragedy. She didn’t want another outpouring of sympathy for something millions of other women had faced. If only she had kept it from Sebby . . .

  “. . . Right, I told Sebby I’d come at noon. We’ll have to pick up his things at home . . . He’s okay about it, I think. Not thrilled, but okay.”

  “Glynn?” The technician greeted her with a smile. “Gotta go. I’ll be there in about forty minutes.” She closed her phone and dropped it into her purse. It was well worth the hassle to get here by seven, because she rarely had to wait more than a few minutes.

  Glynn removed her suit jacket, blouse and bra. The routine was old hat by now. Then she stood with her arms covering her bare chest until ordered onto the table on her back.

  With her fingertips, Sandra gently brushed the skin of her left breast. “This is getting pretty red. Does it bother you?”

  “Not really. It’s a little tender, but it’s nothing I can’t deal with.” Glynn knew it would get progressively worse, but she didn’t want to complain and prolong the treatment by having to take a week off.

  “I need to touch this up a little.” Sandra took a felt-tipped pen and darkened the lines that marked the treatment area.

  At first, she had chafed under the indignity of the black lines and X’s drawn so casually on her skin. She was used to them now, largely because she avoided looking at herself.

  She allowed Sandra to adjust her position on the table until the targeted area of her breast was aligned. Then she closed her eyes as the technician stepped into the shielded control alcove to direct the treatment.

  To calm herself, Glynn sucked in a breath and took her mind to another place, unwilling to dwell on the microscopic battle raging unseen beneath her skin. Her usual source of comfort was Sebby, but thoughts of her son brought almost more sadness than she could bear. Charlotte’s optimism notwithstanding, Sebby had a tougher battle ahead than this one she waged. Whatever awful memories had rendered him so desperate would have to be met head-on if they were to be defeated. She would never forgive herself for not realizing sooner the extent of his suffering over his father’s death and his panic that he might someday lose her too.

  Sebby had probably talked to Charlotte by now, she thought. With any luck, he was still as calm about the transfer as he had been when she left his room last night. Charlotte had been right about his commitment to get better, but Glynn suspected his willingness to go without a fight was merely a sign of the guilt he felt for the anguish he had caused.

  Whatever his motivation, she hoped this time he would come out of this happy and looking forward to the future. He had known enough heartache in his life, and so had she.

  Charlotte leaned against the wall in the hallway as she waited for the twelve residents to gather. Rounds included only four stops today in the psychiatric wing, all but one of which were patients admitted by Brandon before she picked up the rotation on Monday. “So what’s the next step for Mr. Sullivan?”

  A young woman answered swiftly. “Discharge to a substance abuse program.”

  “Residential or outpatient?”

  “Residential.”

  “Because?”

  “Because his diabetes needs to be monitored and he doesn’t have a support system at home.”

  “Correct.” More than half of the hospital’s psychiatric admissions were linked to alcohol or drug use, so this drill with the third-years was routine. “Anyone recommending medication?”

  They chuckled in unison at her joke. Psychotropic meds weren’t an option for substance abusers.

  She looked up to notice the Chief of Medicine, Dr. Trevor Perdue, had quietly joined her small circle.

  “If not, then I thank you for your kind attention. Dr. Comstock is expecting you in surgery.”

  As the students walked away, Dr. Perdue held out his hand for her to shake. “Nice to see you back on rotation, Charlotte.”

  “Six weeks go by in a hurry.”

  They chatted about the state of her clinic program until he abruptly said, “And I hear you’ve run out of psych beds.”

  She was confused for a moment, before realizing his reference. Since he showed no signs of irritation, she hoped that meant he understood her impulsive action on Saturday night to move Sebby to the fifth floor. “We had a small emergency. It seemed like the best solution.”

  “So the kid’s mom is that congresswoman whose husband died. Electrocuted in the bathtub, right?”

  “That’s right. Some TV station ambushed her in the lobby on Saturday night.”

  “Yes, that’s what I heard.”

  To Charlotte’s relief, Dr. Perdue seemed satisfied with her explanation. “I’m discharging him today to an adolescent facility.” “Is he going to be all right?”

  “I think so.”

  “That’s good. Is it anything you can share at grand rounds on Friday?”

  After what Glynn and Sebby had already been through, Charlotte felt protective of their privacy, even from other doctors, who were ethically bound to treat the information confidentially. “I don’t think so. Seems like a pretty straightforward case.”

  “Then I’ll have to come up with another idea for getting you up in front of everyone.”

  “I’d be happy to share some outcome data from our tracking study. How’s that?”

  His face lit up in a smile. “Excellent. I’ll save you a place on next week’s agenda.” With that promise, he turned toward the elevator to follow the residents on their rounds.

  Glynn swung the Camry into a parking space reserved for visitors. Though she turned off the engine and unbuckled her seatbelt, she made no move to exit the car. Her son had spoken barely a word since leaving their home with his freshly packed bag. “Have I told you today how proud of you I am?”

  Sebby looked away, staring out the window to the side. “That makes one of us,” he mumbled.

  “Honey, look at me.”

  He did, wiping away tears on the sleeve of his worn denim

  jacket. “I’m sorry I did this.” She took his hand, her heart breaking for his anguish and shame. “I’m sorry too. I’m sorry you hurt so much, and that you didn’t come to me. I would have tried to help.”

  “I know.” “I love you so much. You’re the most important thing in my life—ever. And that will always be true.”

  “I love you too.”

  “And I need you as much as you need me. We’re going to beat these things together. Deal?”

  He nodded and tried his best to smile. “Deal.”

  She grasped the door handle. “Ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Sebby slung a duffle bag over his shoulder and they walked to the entrance. Dr. McKee was expecting them and met them in the lobby. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, trim and muscular, maybe a few inches shorter than Sebby, who was five-nine. His crew cut blond hair receded slightly from his forehead, and he sported a stubbly brown beard. Glynn introduced herself and her son.

  “We don’t stand on ceremony here. Call me Mark, please.” He picked up Sebby’s bag and tossed it behind the receptionist’s counter. “Why don’t we leave that here and take a quick tour?”

  Glynn’s apprehension faded slightly as she got a feel for the place. The main building had a high glass wall that let in lots of natural light. The landscaping around the cluster of buildings consisted of a bountiful mix of oaks, evergreens and shrubs, downplaying its institutional function. She and Sebby followed Mark down a wide, carpeted hallway toward the back of the building.

  “This is our activity building. We have a kitchen and dining hall, a couple of media rooms, and last year, we added on a small gymnasium.”
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br />   “Do you have a basketball court?” Sebby asked.

  “You play?”

  “A little.”

  “Don’t let him kid you, Mark. He started for his varsity team as a freshman,” Glynn said. “Fortunately, he takes after his father there.”

  “What position?”

  “Small forward.”

  “Excellent! You can be our secret weapon. We need somebody who can take Powerhouse off the dribble.”

  Sebby’s eyes grew wide. “Powerhouse?”

  “He’s one of the cottage parents. He’s big and slow, but he’s got game,” Mark whispered.

  Glynn was thrilled to hear her son would be able to participate in his favorite pastime. At least he wouldn’t be bored out of his mind.

  Mark led them out a side door to another building, not as large as the first, but two stories high. Small classrooms lined the hallway on both sides.

  “The bad news, Sebby, is you still have to go to school. The good news is it’s only four hours a day, either in the morning or the afternoon, depending on your treatment schedule.” He turned to Glynn. “Our teachers are state-certified, and all coursework is transferable to any public school in the state.”

  “Sebby goes to Capital Academy.”

  “Just have their guidance counselor call us. I’m sure we can work it out. We do it all the time.” They started up a flight of stairs. “Our treatment rooms and staff offices are on the second floor. We have facilities for a group session, and six individual or family sessions.”

  “You must have a large staff.”

  “Enough that we can provide comprehensive treatment. We have psychiatrists, behavioral therapists, group therapists and social workers. Everyone’s credentialed, and all treatment is under my direction.”