The Good Doctor

The good doctor

Henry Lagoon went for his usual Monday appointment to see his psychiatrist Dr Joespeh Hasher. The office was polished to obsession and always smelt fresh but waxy. He pushed open the tainted glass door and felt completely conscious of the noise his shoes made as he walked across the marbled floor towards the reception desk. Maybe this was part of the plan he thought? Complete silence on entry, a feeling of being watched and a test of one's reactions as the paranoia descended. He managed to calm himself down just as the receptionist said 'you can go in now Mr Lagoon'.

The Doctor's room always looked expensive with large solid oak furniture and a whole wall full of scholarly looking books leaning sideways across the shelves as if trying to listen in on the conversations that took place between master and patient

‘Good morning Henry how are you today?’ enquired the Doctor

Henry frowned and raised an arm to scratch his head which pulled his white shirt out from his trousers exposing his stomach (he was oblivious to this but the doctor noticed) ‘I’m troubled by the overcrowding in my head’ he said whilst not really knowing why he chose to utter such a thing.

‘ok well why don’t you lie down on the couch and we can begin’ the doctor said pointing to the leather teller of tales.

Henry laid down and without waiting for a cue he began speaking in a way that implied the words were forming a disorderly queue and couldn’t wait to get out into the open air;

‘I hear the soloist missing a beat forgetting the words and convinced that he really is happy. Before the sunset of the unsolved swivels into morning let this be the moment on stage, for tomorrow the graffiti will leave intrigue requiring too much effort to make sense.

Someone is looking up into a sky that is suspicious of everyone. Someone is missing someone and the walk is longer when you wear your heart on the sleeve of a coat long since departed’….

Henry paused before continuing

‘Is it possible to forget to reminisce? Then tears won't flow and the place to go isn’t telling you and there’s no white stick with a hand to hold and you’ve never ploughed a different furrow. I can hear the screams of lives with seams that are torn and shorn of things that keep you warm. The sirens wail and we’ll tell the tale like an Indian brave when the smoke has evaporated. This is a boxed in musical a caged in circus a lived in home from home and the shoes walk through a history just made as the thunder settles on the souls of forget-me-nots who’s damaged minds will never be towed away. I thought I heard more singing from a choir of scrambled orphans all wanting to be loved;’

Henry looked at the doctor who was frantically making notes and then said ‘this next bit is a sort of poem doctor, is that ok?
The doctor without looking up said ‘of course, please continue’

‘I just want to be wanted for me
I just wish you could see what it is I can’t see
Then you could take the lead
But here we are following the wrong star
And watching each other bleed
I just want to wake up and not hate inside
I don’t want to spend the day searching for pride
I wish I was walking to a welcoming place
I’m seeking to leave my war in peace
The night has gone but I’m not released
I don’t want to receive what darkness does send
I just want to wake up knowing I’m a friend…to me’

Henry stopped suddenly and then whispered ‘just a little bit more to say’
The doctor nodded approval.

As the night’s work wears thin and all the things you thought you could hide through hope come creeping out of your thoughts. The smiling vengeful gremlins that won’t go away seem larger and more purposeful at your weakest moment. The devil has idle hands and he's home from the sea’

Henry was almost out of breath but calm when he finished.

Dr Joseph Hasher looked out from above his glasses that were treading water on his pointed nose.

'have you finished?' He asked his patient

'I think that’s it for today doctor but I’d like your opinion on what I’ve just described’ said Henry

'I think you're mental, but you’re a good payer so we’ll see you same time next week’ Said the doctor, without blinking or uncrossing his legs.

©SJ2009