James Wilson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
oncologist) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
damned_institute2012-06-08 11:37 am
oncologist) wrote in damned_institute2012-06-08 11:37 am
Day 64: Doctor's Office 6 [Third Shift]
Having to work on a Sunday might have been something that Wilson complained about, if it wasn't for the fact that his schedule here was always so light. Even when he'd had a heavier schedule back at Princeton-Plainsboro, he couldn't say that working on Sundays was a thing that never happened. He couldn't count the number of times that he'd sacrificed his free time to go into the office and do paperwork or dictations or whatever else needed to be done.
It was part of being a doctor, honestly. Anyone who didn't think that their life was going to get consumed by it was probably delusional.
That being said, Wilson felt he'd done a decent job of keeping his interactions with the patients strictly professional. He could have tried to track down some of them in Doyleton yesterday, for instance, but he'd refrained. The idea of getting too tangled up with a mental patient was something even he wasn't about to get involved with.
Despite having to come in on a Sunday, though, Wilson was only needed after lunch, and so he was working on a full stomach as he entered his office and sat down at his desk. Today he would be seeing two patients: Jude, or Allelujah, the man with the split personality -- and someone new, a Watanabe Yori. Wilson got his files in order and then waited, curious to see who would walk through the doors first.
It was part of being a doctor, honestly. Anyone who didn't think that their life was going to get consumed by it was probably delusional.
That being said, Wilson felt he'd done a decent job of keeping his interactions with the patients strictly professional. He could have tried to track down some of them in Doyleton yesterday, for instance, but he'd refrained. The idea of getting too tangled up with a mental patient was something even he wasn't about to get involved with.
Despite having to come in on a Sunday, though, Wilson was only needed after lunch, and so he was working on a full stomach as he entered his office and sat down at his desk. Today he would be seeing two patients: Jude, or Allelujah, the man with the split personality -- and someone new, a Watanabe Yori. Wilson got his files in order and then waited, curious to see who would walk through the doors first.
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"I understand this is your first time here," he said as he cleared his throat, "so I just wanted to give you an idea of what this is all about. While I can't claim I'll be able to help you recover from your condition, I'm here to discuss with you anything that's bothering you or anything that's making you anxious -- anything you want to, really."
He didn't think it was going to be easy to get this patient started, but maybe they could find some topic that wasn't off-limits.
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Seishin realized he was not exactly making it easy for the man sitting across from him, but whatever that bothered the former priest was not anything Dr. Wilson could help with. Even if he could, Seishin would not have told him, which was perhaps more indicative of things than he realized. There...were things no one around him had ever known or realized. He had done the unforgivable, but he was never truly part of Sotoba, was he? He had been playing a role others had enforced on him, after all.
And he had gone from one cage into another...but if Dr. Wilson was anything like the nurses, there was hardly any use in sharing his experiences.
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Of course, he'd had enough difficult patients over the weeks that he had an idea of how to handle these situations by now, and so the silence only stretched out for a little longer before he spoke up again. "All right, well, let's start here. Why do you think you've been placed in Landel's?"
It seemed like a lot of patients didn't quite understand why they were here in the first place, because they were still delusional. If he could try to draw that out of Mr. Watanabe, they'd at least have a point to kick off from.
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The man sitting across him, whether he was as ignorant as the nurses or not, proved to be more difficult. What was he supposed to answer? Seishin had an idea why one would send him to a mental hospital, or at least according to the facade they maintained; the nurses who had checked his bandages indicated that he apparently could not be trusted to leave his injuries alone. They had been healed after the night of te coliseum, but the former priest had not forgotten: clearly, they believed he was prone to self-destructive behaviour.
And considering his past actions, he guessed it was not much of a stress.
However, attempted suicides was not a topic Seishin was willing to discuss. Nonetheless, the daytime version of this place clearly insisted he needed help with recovering from his 'mental illness'. It was highly unlikely he would discover the real reason behind his stay here during this conversation, so after a significant pause he settled for a safer answer, one that was in line with their facade and likely what they wanted to hear. Interesting, how he would continue this habit.
"I assume it is because I am ill." The details were but guesswork based on his interaction with the nurses, but the former priest didn't feel the need to share them.
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This wasn't something he could back off from, though, or they'd just end up sitting here in awkward silence for the rest of the time. So he decided to push forward.
"Well, yes, all of you have to have some sort of mental illness," he said, managing to keep a polite tone despite the fact that he was getting a little impatient. "But how do you feel? Do you think it makes sense for you to be here, or do you feel like it's just some big mistake?" With mental patients there was a whole spectrum with how self-aware they could be, after all.
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Seishin was already beginning to loathe this, which was probably unfair to the man sitting across from him if he was anything like the nurses, who didn't know any better. But he had never liked the idea of opening up to some random stranger, much less one who was possibly in league with the one keeping him here. He wanted to leave this office, yet his passive demeanor prevented him from asking if he could.
Even if he wanted to argue against his supposed lack of sanity, it would have been futile. All there was left was either playing along, or remaining silent. Unlike Wilson, Seishin would have been fine with the latter option.
Sunako had been the only person he had truly spoken with, but even that had been limited. She had asked, he had answered because he felt she could understand. They were kindred souls, drawn to one another because both of them were beyond salvation.
"I guess it doesn't really matter what I think or feel," he answered. It never did. This place, in whatever form it chose to appear in, was no different.
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Maybe he actually was getting the hang of dealing with mental patients, since he got the feeling he was better at this than he'd been when he'd first started a month or so ago. He didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he couldn't dwell on it too much at the moment.
"It doesn't matter what you think or feel?" he echoed as a frown wrinkled his face. "Why would you say that? Why do you think you don't matter?" That already hinted at some problems with self-worth, and depending on how severe those were, Wilson could understand why Mr. Watanabe might have ended up here.