daughter, her tiny body saturated with blood with the knife still in her chest.
I continued my story, “I didn’t know what to do . I didn’t want to leave her, but I had to get help. She was gasping for breath. Gasping . I called her name and slid my hands under her body and she opened her eyes …” I sobbed out the words. “She opened her eyes and said, ‘Mommy, please’. That was it. She didn’t move again. That was when Richie came in.”
“What … what did he say? What did you do?”
“He said, ‘what have you done ? What have you done?’ and that was it. I remember screaming out and then it all went black. I don’t remember anything until the police showed up. They were grabbing me, Richie was screaming, I tried to call Sharon. My call wasn’t for help. It wasn’t. But they took the phone from me and said I was being ridiculous.”
“Why , then, did you try to call Sharon?”
I paused before answering that question. I didn’t know how he’d take it, or what he’d think of me for saying it.
“Pam, why did you call Sharon?” he repeated his question.
Another brief moment and then I finally answered his question, “Because I think she did it.”
Chapter Fourteen – Desmond Andrews
It would be hard put to find a therapist or psychiatrist who didn’t have a therapist or p s y ch iatrist of his own. It just goes with the territory . The stress of the job requires an understanding ear.
James Hathaway was my understanding ear and had been so since my days at State.
I called James for an emergency ‘session’ as soon as Pam left my office.
I was shaken. Shaken because all that I thought, all that I believed was out the window … sort of, in regards to Pam , that was.
But I wasn’t there to see him or have a consult about Pam; it was about me and my handling of things.
He agreed to the emergency session , and since we had a sort of friend ly bond, we sat outside a nice little coffee shop. The side patio table afforded us privacy.
“Dez, what is going on?” He asked in that ‘ friend meets father ’ way.
I wouldn’t tell him details or too much ; there were times I just needed to talk about my feelings , and after my session with Pam, I had to talk about those feelings.
James had known me for very long time. Most of us in the field have OCD or are compulsive about some thing. I was. My disorder and the eventual remission of it led me to the field of psychiatry ; if someone helped me, then I needed to help someone else.
He asked if I was feeling a ‘wave’ or ‘craving’ ; it was how we liked to refer to my weak times. I told him no ; he was glad to hear that, until I said, not yet.
“Dez, we can keep this in check, can’t we?”
And I had, once again, after seeing James, years earlier.
See, the truth is, I wasn’t formally relieved of duties at State . James , who was the senior Stat e doctor , asked me to le ave and get treatment. If I did and took a leave of absence , he would not tell the board.
He warned me several times at State to put down Pam’s folder, but that wasn’t really what made him have the talk with me.
One night, while doing a sleep study on a pati ent, James made a surprise appearance and caught me … servicing myself while watching the patient sleep.
A P ee -w ee Herman incident.
I was embarrassed but I confessed that I had a problem. I was contro l l ed by urges I didn’t want to have.
I called them waves.
I didn’t wake up wanting to have sex ; of ten times, I didn’t think of it until something or someone caused a ‘wave’. Once I was hit with the wave, I felt insatiable.
The problem sta r ted when I was sixteen years old, but back then I was more out of control. I had sex with anyone when those waves hit. I mean anyone.
A person who isn’t a sexual addict hasn’t a clue how the waves take over your every though ; you are consumed with the desire to have sex. Fantasies run rampant , and the urges can drive you crazy.
Being
I continued my story, “I didn’t know what to do . I didn’t want to leave her, but I had to get help. She was gasping for breath. Gasping . I called her name and slid my hands under her body and she opened her eyes …” I sobbed out the words. “She opened her eyes and said, ‘Mommy, please’. That was it. She didn’t move again. That was when Richie came in.”
“What … what did he say? What did you do?”
“He said, ‘what have you done ? What have you done?’ and that was it. I remember screaming out and then it all went black. I don’t remember anything until the police showed up. They were grabbing me, Richie was screaming, I tried to call Sharon. My call wasn’t for help. It wasn’t. But they took the phone from me and said I was being ridiculous.”
“Why , then, did you try to call Sharon?”
I paused before answering that question. I didn’t know how he’d take it, or what he’d think of me for saying it.
“Pam, why did you call Sharon?” he repeated his question.
Another brief moment and then I finally answered his question, “Because I think she did it.”
Chapter Fourteen – Desmond Andrews
It would be hard put to find a therapist or psychiatrist who didn’t have a therapist or p s y ch iatrist of his own. It just goes with the territory . The stress of the job requires an understanding ear.
James Hathaway was my understanding ear and had been so since my days at State.
I called James for an emergency ‘session’ as soon as Pam left my office.
I was shaken. Shaken because all that I thought, all that I believed was out the window … sort of, in regards to Pam , that was.
But I wasn’t there to see him or have a consult about Pam; it was about me and my handling of things.
He agreed to the emergency session , and since we had a sort of friend ly bond, we sat outside a nice little coffee shop. The side patio table afforded us privacy.
“Dez, what is going on?” He asked in that ‘ friend meets father ’ way.
I wouldn’t tell him details or too much ; there were times I just needed to talk about my feelings , and after my session with Pam, I had to talk about those feelings.
James had known me for very long time. Most of us in the field have OCD or are compulsive about some thing. I was. My disorder and the eventual remission of it led me to the field of psychiatry ; if someone helped me, then I needed to help someone else.
He asked if I was feeling a ‘wave’ or ‘craving’ ; it was how we liked to refer to my weak times. I told him no ; he was glad to hear that, until I said, not yet.
“Dez, we can keep this in check, can’t we?”
And I had, once again, after seeing James, years earlier.
See, the truth is, I wasn’t formally relieved of duties at State . James , who was the senior Stat e doctor , asked me to le ave and get treatment. If I did and took a leave of absence , he would not tell the board.
He warned me several times at State to put down Pam’s folder, but that wasn’t really what made him have the talk with me.
One night, while doing a sleep study on a pati ent, James made a surprise appearance and caught me … servicing myself while watching the patient sleep.
A P ee -w ee Herman incident.
I was embarrassed but I confessed that I had a problem. I was contro l l ed by urges I didn’t want to have.
I called them waves.
I didn’t wake up wanting to have sex ; of ten times, I didn’t think of it until something or someone caused a ‘wave’. Once I was hit with the wave, I felt insatiable.
The problem sta r ted when I was sixteen years old, but back then I was more out of control. I had sex with anyone when those waves hit. I mean anyone.
A person who isn’t a sexual addict hasn’t a clue how the waves take over your every though ; you are consumed with the desire to have sex. Fantasies run rampant , and the urges can drive you crazy.
Being
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