If the patient has a positive response both to treatment and medication, her symptomsmay go into remission. The early onset of schizophrenia has allowed the patient to seektreatment before the delusions become fixated permanently in the patient’s thoughtprocesses. The patient has a 25% chance of living with the disease in remission and onlya 25% chance of recovering from it completely.
~ ~ ~
Chapter Three
I looked around, for a moment; I had forgotten where I was. Dr. Ontarian’s officewas tiny. Tall shelves, with brown legal journals lined the walls and pictures of a lovingfamily of four were lined along the desk. I examined the pictures, an average lookingwoman, posed with a plump and jolly man. He was wearing thick bifocals and had greyhair feathered around his temples. She held a small child of about three in her arms.Another child about six held on to a man’s leg; he was grinning from ear to ear, his smileexposing several missing teeth. I felt a pang of envy; I wanted to be those children.
“Nelly, do you have any questions about your diagnosis?” Quickly, I leafed throughthe manila folder. It was hot in her office, and I was tired of answering questions. I justwanted her to leave me alone. I tried to read all of the lettering but ended up justskimming it. Fuck it! What’s the use, my life is doomed anyway.
“What was that?”
Oh shit, did I just say that out loud? Oh well, it doesn’t matter. Crazy people don’thave any fucking rules.
Dr. Ontarian whirled around in her chair and looked at me. Could she hear me?Could she actually hear my thoughts? I studied her face, wondering what she knew. Howmuch had I told her? Shit Nelly, you got to be more careful about what you think, focusmore on what you say. If you focus more on what you say then she won’t worry aboutyour thoughts. That’s good, because my thoughts are evil, wicked, and dirty. Someoneput them there. Stop this now, Nelly; she’s looking at you.
I blushed from embarrassment, placed my hands in my lap and began to twirl myfingers around nervously. For some reason, I couldn’t look at her. Instead I focused onthe window. I looked over at the clock and silently prayed, dear God, please let thissession end.
“Does this diagnosis make you uncomfortable, Nelly?” Uncomfortable? Tell mebitch, how would you feel if someone told you that you were crazy and probably will befor the rest of your life? Helpless? Defeated? My disease can’t be described asuncomfortable.
“Nelly, I really can’t help you if you don’t talk to me. Remember, we’re all here tohelp you.”
I shifted my head to the right and focused on a fake plastic plant that was nestled inthe corner. Why couldn’t I be a plant? Life would be so much easier, no judgments, noheartaches. Life, any life is easier than being crazy. My leg started to jump. I started toget the shakes. What’s going on with me?
“Nelly, what are you thinking about right now?’
“No!” I said, a little too quickly. I was beginning to feel like a crack-head in rehabwith a vile of dope stuffed in my sock. I didn’t appreciate the accusations; just becauseI’m refusing to look at her doesn’t mean that I’m seeing someone who isn’t there. Ilooked the other way, careful to avoid her gaze and focused on old rusty radiator. My legshook more violently; I tried to massage it with my hands to try and control it.
“Wow! It looks like you’re a little paranoid,” she said backing off. “Did I saysomething that upset you?”
Yes bitch, everything that you say upsets me. I rolled my eyes and looked the otherway. I was shaking tremulously, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.
“Your body is reacting to the medications.” Dr. Ontarian said.
Fuck the medications. Yeah, I said it and I don’t really care if you hear my thoughts.I don’t really want to take them anyway. “Nelly, it’s okay, we’re here to help you, butyou have to trust in the process.”
“I don’t trust anyone.” I looked at her just for a brief second and saw that she was alittle surprised by my outburst. Her lips tightened and she leaned back in her chair.
There was a long silence.
“We’ve been through this before, if you truly want to get better, you’re going to haveto make more of an effort.”
I slouched way down in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. This wasstupid, real dumb, and I’m not going to say anything else until the session is over.
“Nelly?”
“I’m not crazy!” I snapped. This whole diagnosis thing was bullshit. I am not goingto let someone with a fancy degree tell me that I am sick, that I am crazy. That what’sgoing on in my life is not real. How does she know? She does not know me, my momma,my family, nobody. She’s crazy and a liar, and I can’t listen to anything that comes out ofher mouth.
“Alright, how about we end our session for today?” she said with a smile that lookedfaker than a knock-off bag. I got up and rushed toward the door.
“Nelly, twelve o clock.” She held out a pink reminder slip. I snatched it out of herhand and slammed dunked it into the trashcan. I walked outside and waited for the shortyellow bus that transported me back and forth to Looney Ville. I ripped a leftovercigarette butt out of my pocket and began to smoke it. I was an orphan, a throwawaychild with a limited shelf life that was due to expire in one year. By that time, I will be oflegal age to enter the world with a limited education, non-existent support system, andcrazier than a bag
