Dr. Duckworth

by -=[Stand Up Jack]=-

I spent most of my life with deep rooted emotional problems, but about a week after I turned 16 I embarked upon the path to normalcy. With a wardrobe composed almost entirely of dark shades, I had thought in my ignorance that this was simply because I liked the color. In reality, it was due to my chronic depression and was simply a cry for help. Luckily, my parents heard this cry, and sent me to a psychiatrist. I walked into his office the first day with a shining smile on my face - ready for whatever he had to say.

“How do you feel?” asked Dr. Duckworth.

“Fine,” I said.

“No feelings of sadness?” he inquired.

“I don’t think so,” I replied.

Leaning back in his armchair, Dr. Duckworth stroked his chin and thought deeply. Wearing thick glasses and darting his eyes around the room at everything but me, I noticed he had his name written on a number of plaques and awards throughout his office. He had a Ph.D and an MD. Obviously he was a very knowledgeable man.

“It is my opinion,” Dr. Duckworth began, “that you are suffering from chronic depression. Your unwillingness to admit that you are feeling sad is typical of the denial stage someone as troubled as you might have to endure, and the first step to recovery is admitting you’re depressed. You do want to be happy, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes I do.”

“Then why not just admit you’re depressed so we can began the recovery process?”

Upon admitting my depression, Dr. Duckworth told me that I had all ready taken the hardest step. I was very pleased that in just my first session I had made so much progress towards being happy. The doctor then had me compile a list of everything I didn’t like and/or that made me sad, and he told me to think deeply about all of these things at once. As I shared my feelings with him while thinking about these things, he stared at me from his thick glasses and wrote down occasional notes. When he went over the emotions I’d shared with him, I knew I really did have problems.

The next time I came to his office, the first thing he asked me was how I felt. This time I was prepared. I told him I was depressed, but feeling all right. He seemed almost as pleased with the headway I was making as I was, and he told me that if I ever wanted to be normal I would have to take this medication he was prescribing me.

“Don’t you want to be yourself again?” the wise doctor asked.

“Of course I do,” said I.

“Then you’ll have to take this medication. It should make you feel very different from your usual self. Also,” said the doctor while he glanced at my navy blue shirt, “I think you should wear less black and more white. In addition, I suggest you seek a new group of friends. That is, if you really want to be your normal self, instead of this depressed child that has replaced you.”

The doctor also suggested I take up new hobbies like bowling. I hated bowling, but I knew that if that’s what it would take to be myself, then I was willing to do it.

Every Wednesday for the next three months I went to Dr. Duckworth’s office. I took my medication regularly, wore all white, and found myself a new group of friends. With these new friends also came a new set of interests. The doctor said it was for the best, as it was the only way I could ever be my normal self.

One day, after my three months of visits with the doctor, I arrived at his office in my white T-shirt and khaki pants.

“How do you feel?” asked Dr. Duckworth.

“Fine,” I said.

“No feelings of sadness?” he inquired.

I thought about it for a moment, then replied, “I don’t think so....”

Almost as if he didn’t believe what I’d said, the doctor took his glasses off and cleaned them with a small, dirty rag. After mumbling about how blind he was without them, the doctor put his glassed back on, looked briefly at me, and proceeded to tell me how wonderful it was that I had been cured. Looking down at his feet, Dr. Duckworth led me to the door and congratulated me yet again.

I left his office that day with a shining smile on my face, content that I was finally healthy again. Happy as I’d ever been and truly myself, I went home to get my next dose of medication before I was off to the bowling alley to meet up with my friends.

::end

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:: [Stand Up Jack ] ::

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