Sergeant Greene came to the military with no history of mental illness. At the time of this summary he shows symptoms consistent with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. It is quite possible he also has developed schizophrenia with paranoia and some of his behavior suggests substance abuse. It is recommended that Sergeant Greene receive ongoing care for mental illness and substance abuse and that he remain on a regimen of medication to control his reaction to stress.
Theodore Martin, MD
Staff Psychiatrist
Simply put, at least as best as I could understand it, Karl lost it after he accidentally killed a couple of Iraqi kids. If you were going to lose it over something, that would certainly do it. That made some sense, but it didn't really explain the Redskins gear, the rubber gloves, and his theory on the massive plot to fatten all of us with partially hydrogenated oil. On second thought, maybe living with killing a couple of innocent kids did explain that.
I flipped through the rest of the chart, which consisted of his medical history, a section on military mumbo jumbo and the day-to-day case notes. I skipped to the case notes to see if Karl was confronting everyone at the VA who used non-dairy creamer.
Karl was in the funny farm unit for over four weeks so there should be at least a page a day of notes. Hopefully the VA counselors were a little more diligent of their paper work than yours truly and I'd be able to tell what Karl's stay was like. I flipped through the daily progress notes and noticed something wasn't right. The section was too small. The first few days were documented thoroughly then one note went on to a second page and stopped abruptly. Then a brand new page started with two weeks of abbreviated notes. It looked like someone ripped out the original documentation and replaced them with new notes. They did a shitty job because it would've been pretty obvious to anyone who had ever written in a chart. It was even obvious to a counselor who hated paperwork. I was about to get a second opinion from Monique when a shadow blocked the ceiling fluorescent light hanging over me.
'Duffy I left you a note to come see me as soon as you got in,' Claudia said.
'I was just coming in.'
I followed Claudia to her office.
I'd been down this road before and it wasn't a good road to go down. Getting in trouble at work was something I had gotten used to. Watching The Michelin Woman gloat as she read me her riot act wasn't.
'This is a warning of pending termination,' Claudia said glaring at me.
'C'mon Claudia the charts have been worse,' I said.
'Oh, I know. That's why this isn't a termination…yet.' She half smiled. 'It has come to my attention that you have violated a client's confidentiality.'
I couldn't imagine how she heard about Karl. The Michelin Woman was a nosy bastard and she would've had her ways, but I decided to keep my mouth shut.
'I received a call from Paula Bentley, the ex partner of your client, Mr. Spain. She says you came to her place of work to advocate that she allow her ex to have visitation with their daughter.'
'And I didn't go to her place of employment. I went to pick up that computer and I bumped into her.'
'It doesn't matter. It is grossly inappropriate.'
'Even so, that's the first time I've ever been caught-I mean-ever done something like that. I've never been warned. You can't fire me for that.'
'No, but if you're charts aren't up to date I can combine these two offenses and have just cause to fire you.'
'That's a bullshit technicality and you know it.' She smiled and closed her eyes.
'Please watch your language in my office.' Under my breath I muttered 'Fat fuckin' bitch.'
'Did you say something?'
'No.'
From there, she outlined her plans to can me. She would further investigate my breach of confidentiality and then review my charts. If she was able to confirm that in both cases I was negligent and inappropriate I'd be out on my ass. I've been close to getting canned before, but on those occasions there were always way outs. I wasn't so sure this time.
Tom Schreck
Out Cold: Round Three of the Duffy Dombrowski Mysteries
21
I finished the day taking a look through my files. I was in deep shit. Claudia had said she'd review the files and investigate my breach in a matter of days. I didn't see any way possible of somehow tying up both ends and saving my ass. I knew this day would come. I just didn't know it would come this week. My friend, the throb, joined me and Elvis for the ride home. Elvis did Are You Lonesome Tonight and he stuttered through the soliloquy in the middle of the song. The way my head felt I could understand the trouble the king had. My stomach did that car-sick feeling, which I knew wasn't related to being in the car. It had more to do with getting hit on the noggin. I pulled up to the Moody Blue and headed toward the door and immediately got the sense something was wrong. I couldn't put my finger on it and wondered if my new emotional state played tricks on me. The one Rudy told me would involve weird unpredictable mood swings. I realized it was much simpler. There was no barking. Every night Al would start going nuts as soon as he heard the El Dorado pull up. Tonight silence. I ran up the steps and bolted through the door, fearing the worst.
My fears quadrupled when I rattled the knob and still got no reaction from Al. I opened the door and saw what had happened. Karl sat naked in the center of the floor across from Al. Al's had no collar on so I guess, technically, he was also naked. In between them a candle burned. Karl sat cross-legged staring at it. Al wasn't staring at it, he had his eyes closed, and he snored.
'What the fuck?'
'Please, we are centering,' Karl said without moving. Having a naked man, in front of you in the middle of your living room, next to your dog, is a bit disconcerting.
'Join us in centering if you like.'
I shook my head and decided to center myself in my tried and true way and got a Schlitz. I sat on my couch in front of the circle of the bizarre, pondering if it would be okay to turn on my television.
'KUBALA! KUBALA! KUBALA!'
Al opened his eyes and furrowed his brow.
'GONDOFI! OH! GONDOFI! OH!'
I chugged the Schlitz and got another.
'OH! OH! OH!'
Karl slapped the floor three times. Al sat up. Karl looked at me with a big smile.
'Hello Duffy. Al and I were centering.' He had a peaceful grin on his face, which for some strange reason intensified his nakedness.
'Karl, could you throw on a pair of cargo pants and Tshirt?'
'I am comfortable in my nakedness.'
'That makes one of us.'
Al went to the window to check the sparrows. Apparently, even with his centering, Al remained suspicious of his enemies. I wasn't nearly as centered as my roommates. Drinking Schlitz twice as fast as usual wasn't speeding my own centeredness. To be honest I was still a bit uneasy about the last panic attack/nightmare. I thought if I stacked my consciousness deck with a few extra Schlitz I might just skip the nocturnal special features I'd been getting.
I flipped on the TV to MSNBC to watch the evening news. There lead story talked about the price of oil going up. Karl came back in the room and I was grateful to see he'd thrown on some sweat pants and was pulling a T- shirt on over his head. His shirt said, 'If you're not furious you're not paying attention.' I guess I wasn't paying close
