A day in a doc's life

The sounds of chirping crickets and the night birds filled the air.
My lips were slightly moist by the light mist. I pulled my coat tighter
as a cool breeze floated by. Standing on the open terrace of the
Greenfield Psychiatric Hospital, my eyes swept over the green expanse
of the Cleveland National Forest on the outskirts of which the building
stood. The waters of Lake Henshaw glistened in the moonlight and the
rolling slopes of the Palomar Mountains looked grand and majestic. The
institution was situated in a low valley, 35 miles off San Diego in
South California. A bird's eye view of the place gave one the feeling
of a house in a fairy tale in an enchanted forest, near the hills with
a sparkling blue spring nearby. The location was crucial for the proper
running of the hospital since mentally disabled patients need a
peaceful atmosphere for their treatment. Many a time has this
environment helped a doctor to bring back a patient from madness,
despair and tragedy to a world of hope, victory, contentment and love.
I consider a psychiatrist to be a most noble profession who helps to
restore one's mental heath, a condition of mental well-being, balance,
and resilience in which the individual can successfully work and
function and in which he can both withstand and learn to cope with the
conflicts and stresses encountered in life. And that is why I took up
this profession.

I'm Dr. Frederick Powell, M.D., PhD in Clinical Psychology, working
here for the past 10 years. In this career I have developed a friendly
work environment, met lots of interesting people and have cured
thousands of patients with illnesses ranging from schizophrenia,
affective psychoses, and neurotic illness upto amnesia. But I had to go
through failures too that resulted in patients spending the rest of
their lives here waiting to be cured by a miracle, or have to be moved
to other hospitals for better treatment. At those times I used to
wonder why God had withdrawn my chance of restoring a person to his
sane self. I then used to console myself that I should not let my
successes overshadow my failures.
Anyways, on the whole, it has been a delightful experience. My wife was
quite proud of me. She was always ready to listen to the painful
stories of my patients and pray with me for their cure. She visited
whenever she got time and took it her moral duty to get acquainted with
their relatives and raise their hopes and spirits. She was such a
lovely woman, with a tender heart and lots of love. And I loved her
too, deeply. That was why her death took me by a vicious grip and
knocked the wind out of me.
Following the flight crash that put a horrible end to her life, I was
in complete distress. In spite of my relatives, friends and colleagues'
support and solace, I could not act normally. Her sweet memories were
etched strongly in my mind that I couldn't accept she was no more. I
couldn't concentrate in my work and in the end, my chief, Dr Martin
Howard advised me to take a couple of months' rest. As a good family
friend too, he knew the extent of my affection towards my wife and how
it had increased doublefold after the death of our 17 day old baby. I
accepted his advice and plunged myself in prayers and devotion. I was
thus able to return to work 45 days after Diane's death. As I involved
myself with my cases and devised methods of treatment, I pictured her
holding my shoulder and inquiring about how my patients were doing.
Soon I got over her physical loss as her spiritual presence took hold
of me. I told her all my problems, difficulties and decisions just as I
used to when she was alive. Whenever I consulted her, my problems
miraculously faded away. In 3 months' time, I got over my grief
completely and worked with the same vigour and energy as I had always,
which brought smiles of satisfaction to everyone??.including Dr
Howard.

As I stood at the terrace surveying the opposite block, I noticed a
light on in one of the 4th floor offices. Looking carefully, I guessed
it must be one of the management offices, possibly Dr Howard's. It was
pretty late, but I thought I could submit Mrs. Donaldson's report if he
was in. I turned back and walked briskly in the direction of his
office.
"Come in," I heard the surprised tone in his voice as I pushed open the
door and saw him staring wide-eyed at me.
"Fred, is there a problem?" he asked with a slight tint of
concern.
"No Doc," I said with an embarrassed smile as I seated myself in front
of him. "I was thinking of retiring for the night after my final rounds
when I noticed your light on. I thought that if you were very busy, I
could give you the latest report on Mrs. Donaldson." I handed him the
file across the desk. He took it and scanned the pages gravely.
"Well," he said, "you continue with phase one of your therapy. Don't
increase her level of chlorpromazine. Her frequency of delusions and
hallucinations has come down quite well. I'll tell psychoanalyst Dr
Brent Mitchell to check up on her also. There are a good number of
chances for her recovery quite soon."
My lips curved up to a pleased smile. Dr Howard had lot of faith in my
work talent. "That'll be very good, Doctor. I'm glad that you gave me
this case. I can relate to her pain on a personal level , you know. I
have a feeling I'm the right person to tackle her husband's
loss."
Dr. Howard nodded and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "It's quite
late, you better turn in for the night, Fred."
"Yes, Doc, I'm on my way" I said getting up. "I have a session with the
Egyptian patient early in the morning. He is still hysteric and we have
put him to sleep on barbiturates. Shall I put him on haloperidol
also?"
"No, Frederick. I have assigned Dr Gracy Austin to attend to him now.
You concentrate on Mrs. Donaldson. I'll let you know if I find some
patient suitable for you." He smiled faintly. I said goodnight and
walked to Room 32. I crossed few beds over to the stout lady on the
right. Mrs. Donaldson was asleep. I sat on the empty bed beside her,
studying her calm and serene face. She had definitely improved during
her stay, judging from the decrease in her howls and screams during
many tense nights. "You'll be alright very soon, Mrs. Donaldson," I
whispered, "I'll make sure you do." Suddenly I realized I was very
tired. I lied down and soon fell asleep.

Dr Howard was restlessly pacing as the clock struck one. He heaved a
sigh. He had been working late the past few weeks and dark circles
showed under his eyes. His thoughts were occupied by Frederick, the way
he had come to submit the report, the interest he showed in his work.
His heart felt heavy when he remembered the 'confident' look on
Frederick's face. He made a silent prayer and walked over to the
records shelf. He leafed through alphabet 'P' and selected one. He
opened the file and read,

' Powell, Frederick, age 38. Worked as psychiatrist in G.P.H.
Diagnosed with psychoneurosis after wife's death. Acute delirium and
hysteria from time to time. Treated with lithium carbonate. Might have
to undergo ECT ( electroconvulsive treatment) if medication
fails.
Attempted suicide twice. Made murderous attack on uniformed pilot
officer in the premises.'
He turned to the last page and filled his daily report. "Showing
emotional and professional behaviour. Still thinks he is doctor. Under
very close supervision."