Blind Rage by Terri Persons Page A

Patient has requested a list of recommended therapists/psychologists practicing in the university area.
    Lithium has proven an effective maintenance treatment, although patient has complained about the “flat feeling” it causes.
     
    That flat feeling seemed to be intensifying with every second she spent in that cell-like waiting room. Dropping “Breezy Bathrooms for Less” on the table, she looked at the clock again and double-checked its accuracy against her watch. Yup. Already noon. If she didn’t get in soon, she was going to be late for her next class. She rested her elbows on her knees and dropped her chin in her palms.
    She wasn’t a new patient, nor was she very different from the hundreds of other cases this doctor had handled over the years, she suspected. She was just another nut job. He hated when she called herself that. Nut job. She told him it helped to laugh.
    He didn’t have a sense of humor, this doctor. He’d drum an eraser head on his desk while he reviewed the highlights of her masterpiece. He had high cheekbones and a prominent jawline, and when he read something that piqued his interest or disturbed his sensibilities, both facial features tensed almost indiscernibly. She could always tell when he got to the dirty parts of her little book: his face reddened. She loved it when that happened. At least she could tell he was human.
    The blond head levitated from behind the counter and the receptionist cracked open the door leading to the bowels of the office. “The doctor will see you now.”
    “Great,” said Klein, Kyra A. She got up with her purse and her books and followed the receptionist down the hall to the doctor’s exam room. She scrutinized his bottom half as they went. Jack Something had a nice butt for a guy who sat at a computer all day. Why was she not surprised that he was wearing boring khaki slacks and geeky brown walking shoes?
    “Miss Klein,” he announced, pushing the door open for her.
    “Thank you,” she said, offering the receptionist a smile.
    “You’re quite welcome,” he said, smiling back. He looked over at the man behind the desk. “Do you need anything, Doctor?”
    “I’m good, Charles,” the man said without looking up from his paperwork.
    “Would you like some coffee, Miss Klein?” Charles asked her.
    “No, thanks. I’m not a coffee drinker,” she said.
    Charles nodded and left. Klein stared at the closed door, feeling guilty about not accepting the damn drink.
    The doctor looked up and nodded toward a chair parked across from his desk. “Please have a seat.”
    She headed to the leather couch planted against the wall. She tossed her purse and her books onto it and dropped down next to them. “I’m breaking in a new pair of boots, and my feet are killing me.”
    “Please make yourself comfortable,” he said, pushing his chair back and standing up.
    “I will.” She started unzipping the knee-high boots, which were pulled over skintight jeans.
    He pulled down on the sleeves of his blazer—his idea of making himself comfortable—and took the patient chair over to the couch. Sitting down across from her with his right ankle propped across his left knee, he opened the file up on his legs. He scrutinized her clothing—a fur vest over a cashmere sweater—and shot a look at her boots and Coach purse. “Did you go on another spending spree?” he asked in that judgmental tone of his. That assistant principal’s voice.
    “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m not off my meds. My brother sent me a pile of money for my birthday.”
    “Happy birthday.”
    “It was last month, but thanks.”
    “How are you doing, Miss Klein?”
    Now she was bent over her boots, pulling them off. “I’m as fat as a cow.”
    “Weight gain is a common side effect with lithium. So are tremors, diarrhea, nausea…”
    “We discussed switching meds.” She dropped her boots on the floor with a thud. “What about that?”
    “Valproic acid has side effects as