Car Trouble

Written by Steve Shrott

Who did this? I asked myself, not believing what was in front of me.

I had arrived at my psychology office at ten this morning, as usual. Then, I walked across the road to the local coffee shop, had a latte and half an hour later headed back to the office.

That’s when I saw my slashed tires.

I was shocked! The fact that four tires had been cut instead of just one indicated that it wasn’t just a prank by some kids in the neighborhood. It was obviously done by someone who had issues with me.

Immediately, I narrowed it down to four possibilities. They were my “red-zone” patients -- ones that I had not yet been able to help.

I dashed into my office, dug up their files and asked my secretary, Renata, to try and schedule all of them for today. Then I had her phone the Auto Club about my car.

I decided I would speak to each of the patients and attempt to figure out the culprit. However, I knew that I couldn’t merely ask them about the incident -- some might react badly. I would have to watch for subtle clues.

I only had to wait a few moments before Renata buzzed to let me know that Mrs. Roberts had arrived.

The door to my office opened and in she trotted. She was blonde and weighed far too much for her small frame. We had been trying to discover the psychological reasons for her compulsive over-eating but so far no luck.

“Hello, Mrs. Roberts, how’s everything going?”

“Not very well,” she said, pointing a chubby finger at me. “Your suggestions don’t seem to work at all.”

“I see. You blame me?”

“You know what I’ve lost so far? Three pounds. I still can’t bend down to kiss my kids. How am I going to go to that wedding next week looking like this?”

“Mrs. Roberts, rather than being so upset, you should congratulate yourself on your success.”

She grimaced. “What success? It’s only three pounds.”

“Yes that’s true. But many of my patients would be thrilled they lost anything. Most of them are gaining by the week.”

She paused for a moment, seemed to be thinking that over. Suddenly, she sat up a little straighter in her chair, her pale face gaining a bit of color.

She seemed a bit more optimistic now and we continued talking about her weight until her hour was up. Then I asked Renata to send in the next patient.

Randy Peters stumbled in and cautiously walked towards the chair in front of my desk.

“What’s wrong Mr. Peters?”

“Lost my contacts, doc. Don’t know where I put them.” He felt for the chair and sat down.

“Be careful, Mr. Peters. That’s dangerous.”

“Yes, I know. I’m taking a taxi home.”

“Good.” I nodded. “I was curious how everything is going?”

“Not very well.”

“You told me last week that you were having more frequent dreams.”

He nodded. “Yesterday was the worst. The man in the mask chased me down the street. But I finally stood up to him and ripped his mask off.”

“Was the face familiar to you?”

“Now that you mention it he may have looked a bit like you, doc.”

“Like me? What do you think that means?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. But it upset me a great deal to see you staring at me.” He gestured with his hand and knocked over my penholder.

“Sorry doc.” He quickly picked up all the pens and dropped them back into the holder. Suddenly, he smiled. “I got it, Doc. You remind me of my dad and I never got along with him. That’s why I must have gotten upset when I saw you in the dream.”

I was happy we had made some progress in his therapy. We continued talking more about his father until it was time for my next patient.

Mr. Carlson entered my office and grimaced as he looked down at the chair in front of him. “Is it okay if I stand doctor?”

“Yes, that’s fine.” Mr. Carlson had a phobia about germs and it seemed to be getting worse. “How are things going?”

“Not well. Today, I couldn’t even touch my computer at work.”

“Did you try the affirmations like we did with some of your other obsessions?”

“It didn’t do any good. In fact, I got so upset, I wanted to take it out on somebody.” He stared at me.

“Did anything unusual happen to you the week before this started?”

He started to lean against the wall, but then looked at it and moved away. “Well last week, I accidentally locked myself in the garage. It was very messy and I was stuck there for hours.”

I smiled. “We may have hit on something, Mr. Carlson.

We continued to talk about his issues and I finally got him to sit in the chair. At the end of the session, Renata sent in my last “red-zone” patient.

Mr. Leamington ambled in smoking a cigarette, even though the reason he had come to see me originally was that he wanted to quit smoking.

“I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t smoke in here, Mr. Leamington.”

“I’m sorry,” He said. “It’s just I couldn’t control myself. It seems as if my hands have a mind of their own.

I understand,” I said. “What thought comes into your mind, just before you pull out the cigarette?”

“Nothing, doctor.”

“I know you think there’s nothing. But every action has a thought that precedes it. Okay, what time did you start smoking this morning?”

“I started as soon as I got up -- about twelve. I do shift-work.”

“Okay, now go back in your mind. You have just awoken. What are you thinking?”

He closed his eyes for a moment then opened them quickly. “I’m thinking about my girlfriend dumping me. It made me mad.”

“So perhaps you felt that the cigarette would help you feel better. Is that correct?”

He thought again. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

“Good work, I think we’re onto something.”

He smiled broadly.

I gave Mr. Leamington some other tactics he could try then ended the session.

After he left, I tried to figure out which of my patients had slashed my tires.