in strength. His colleague, Scott, had once likened a therapy group to a bridge built in
battle. Many casualties (that is, dropouts) had to be taken during the early formative
stage, but once the bridge was built it conveyed many people—the remaining original
members and all those who subsequently joined the group—to a better place.
Julius had written professional articles about the various ways that therapy groups
helped patients, but he always had difficulty in finding the language to describe the truly
crucial ingredient: the group`s healing ambience. In one article he likened it to
dermatological treatments of severe skin lesions in which the patient was immersed into
soothing oatmeal baths.
One of the major side benefits of leading a group—a fact never stated in the
professional literature—is that a potent therapy group often heals the therapist as well as
the patients. Though Julius had often experienced personal relief after a meeting, he
never was certain of the precise mechanism. Was it simply a result of forgetting himself
for ninety minutes, or of the altruistic act of therapy, or of enjoying his own expertise,
feeling proud of his abilities, and enjoying the high regard of others? All of the above?
Julius gave up trying to be precise and for the past few years accepted the folksy
explanation of simply dipping into the healing waters of the group.
Going public with his melanoma to his therapy group seemed a momentous act. It
was one thing, he thought, to be open with family, friends, and all the other folks residing
backstage, but quite another to unmask himself to his primary audience, to that select
group for whom he had been healer, doctor, priest, and shaman. It was an irreversible
step, an admission that he was superannuated, a public confession that his life no longer
spiraled upward toward a bigger, brighter future.
Julius had been thinking a good bit of the missing member, Pam, now traveling
and not due to return for a month. He regretted she would not be there today for his
disclosure. For him, she was the key member of the group, always a comforting, healing
presence for others—and for him as well. And he felt chagrined by the fact that the group
had not been able to help with her extreme rage and obsessional thinking about her
husband and an ex–lover and that Pam, in desperation, had sought help at a Buddhist
meditation retreat in India.
And so, heaving and churning with all these feelings, Julius entered the group
room at four–thirty that afternoon. The members were already seated and poring over
sheets of paper which were whisked out of sight when Julius entered.
Odd, he thought. Was he late? He took a quick look at his watch. Nope, four–thirty
on the dot. He put it out of mind and began the recitation of his prepared statement.
«Well, let`s get started. As you know, I never make a practice of starting the
meeting, but today`s an exception because there`s something I need to get off my chest,
something that`s hard for me to say. So here goes.
«About a month ago I learned that I have a serious, I`ll be frank, more than
serious—a life–threatening form of skin cancer, malignant melanoma. I thought I was in
good health; this turned up at a recent routine physical exam....»
Julius stopped. Something was off kilter: The members` facial expression and
nonverbal language weren`t right. Their posture was wrong. They should have been
turned toward him; focusing on him; instead no one fully faced him, no one met his gaze,
all eyes were averted, unfocused, except for Rebecca, who covertly studied the sheet of
paper in her lap.
«What`s happening?» asked Julius. «I feel like I`m not making contact. You all
seem preoccupied with something else today. And, Rebecca, what is it that you`re
reading?»
Rebecca immediately folded the paper, buried it in her purse, and avoided Julius`s
gaze. Everyone sat quietly until Tony broke the silence.
«Well, I gotta talk. I can`t talk for Rebecca but I`ll talk for myself. My problem
when you were speaking was that I already know what you`re going to tell us about
your...health. So it was hard to look at you and pretend I was hearing something new.
And yet I just couldn`t interrupt you to tell you that I knew it already.»
«How? What do you mean you knew what I was going to say? What in hell is
going on today?»
«Julius, I`m sorry, let me explain,” said Gill. «I mean, in a way I`m to blame. After
the last meeting I was still frazzled and not clear about when or whether to go home or
where to sleep that night. I really put pressure on everyone to come to the coffee shop,
where we continued the meeting.»
«Yeah? And?» Julius coaxed, moving his hand in a small circle as though
conducting an orchestra.
«Well, Philip told us what the score was. You know—about your health and about
the malignant myeloma—”
«Melanoma,” Philip softly interjected.
Gill glanced at the paper in his hand. «Right, melanoma. Thanks, Philip. Keep
doing that. I get mixed up.»
«Multiple myeloma is a cancer of the bone,” said Philip. «Melanoma is a cancer of
the skin, think of melanin, pigment, skin coloring—”
«So those sheets are...,” interrupted Julius, gesturing with his hands to invite Gill
or Philip to explain.
«Philip downloaded information about your medical condition and prepared a
summary, which he handed out just as we entered the room a few minutes ago.» Gill
extended his copy toward Julius, who saw the heading: Malignant Melanoma.
Staggered, Julius sat back in his chair. «I...uh...don`t know how to put it...I feel
preempted, I feel like I had a big news story to tell you and I`ve been scooped, scooped
on my own life story—or death story.» Turning and speaking directly to Philip, Julius
said, «Had you any guesses about how I`d feel about that?»
Philip remained impassive, neither replying nor looking at Julius.
«That`s not entirely fair, Julius,” said Rebecca, who removed her barrette, loosened
her long black hair, and twisted it into a coil on the top of her head. «He`s not at fault
here. First of all, Philip did not, in the worst way, want to go to the coffee shop after the
meeting. Said he didn`t socialize, said he had a class to prepare. We had to practically
drag him there.»
«Right.» Gill took over. «We talked mostly about me and my wife and where I
should sleep that night. Then, of course, we all asked Philip about why he was in therapy,
which is only natural—every new member gets asked that—and he told us about your
phone call to him which was prompted by your illness. That news jolted us, and we
couldn`t let it pass without pressing him to tell us what he knew. Looking back, I don`t
see how he could have withheld that from us.»
«Philip even asked,” Rebecca added, «whether it was kosher for the group to meet
without you.»
«Kosher? Philip saidthat ?» asked Julius.
«Well, no,” said Rebecca, «come to think of it,kosher was my term, not his. But
that was his meaning, and I told him that we often had a postgroup session at the coffee
shop and that you`ve never raised objections about it except to insist that we debrief
everyone who wasn`t there in the next meeting so that there be no secrets.»
It was good that Rebecca and Gill gave Julius time to calm himself. His mind
