“You aren’t the first person to mention something like that to me,” Lance said.
“Good,” Shane said. “Give it some thought. So, I want to see you tomorrow at nine a.m. here, in shorts and a muscle shirt, ready to work.”
“Is that a warning?”
“Not necessarily,” he said. “Just letting you know that the testing is over for now, and it’s time to go to work.” He looked at his schedule and said, “Speaking of that, you’re heading for the shrink today, aren’t you?”
“Apparently,” Lance said. “Dr. Monroe.”
“He’s new here,” Shane said. “Let me know what you think of him.”
“Will do,” he said, and he slowly pushed his wheelchair out of the large gym area and through the door. He stopped in the hallway and tried to get his bearings.
Shane called out behind him, ‘Turn left and then take the first right.”
“Thanks,” he replied with a wave, then headed out, thankful for the assist. He got to a small office and knocked on the door. Almost immediately he heard a voice call out a reply.
“Come on in.”
Pushing his wheelchair back, Lance reached forward, grabbing the door, then awkwardly managed to get around it.
“Looks like you made it after all,” Dr. Monroe said, looking at him. “I wondered if I’d need to open the door for you.”
“Apparently not,” he said. “It was close though.”
“Close is good because you still made it,” he said, “and that’s what counts. So, come on in and take a seat up at the desk. Just move that chair over, if it’s in the way.”
“Okay, I’m working on that,” he said, and he wondered why the doctor wasn’t helping him. Then he realized it was probably more testing. If there was ever anything this place appeared to really enjoy, it was testing their patience. He was a little tired of it, but, at the same time, he didn’t want to show impatience because he figured everything he did would be suspect and questioned.
“There. Are you comfy now?”
“Good enough,” Lance said.
“Okay, so now let’s talk about you.”
“Or we could not,” he joked. “It’d be fine with me to just let that slide today.”
“Any particular reason you feel that way?”
Lance smiled, shook his head, and said, “I was joking, and I know perfectly well what this is all about.”
“All about you. It certainly is,” he said, “and lots of it.”
At that, Lance winced and said, “You guys have such a bad name. It makes it all seem intimidating.”
“I don’t think it’s deserved,” the doctor protested. “Honestly, I’m a nice guy.”
“Sure, but, if your job is to figure out what makes us tick and how to make us tick better, nobody really wants to get their head examined.”
The doctor stared at him in fascination. “I like that analogy,” he said, and then he picked up a pen and wrote a note down on the notepad in front of him.
Almost instinctively, Lance could feel his back tensing up. “What did you write down?”
The doctor looked up, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Your clock analogy.”
Lance relaxed a little bit. “Oh, I guess that’s not so bad.”
“What is it that’s so threatening about somebody writing notes for your file?”
“In a scenario like this,” he said, “it’s all about what you’re writing about me.”
At that, the doctor put down his pen, clasped his hands together, set them on his desk, and said, “Okay, so I won’t write anything today. The last thing I want is to make you feel insecure.”
“Too late,” Lance said. “I’m on the opposite side of the desk. You’re a doctor, and I’m not, so I already feel insecure.”
At that, the doctor got up, walked over, shifted things around somewhat so he could face Lance without the desk between them, and sat down. “Well, we removed the desk. What next?”
Lance stared at him in surprise. “Why would you do that?”
“Because it’s not about doctor and patient or notes and files,” he said. “This is just about the two of us. I need to know what I can do to help your sessions here be the most effective they can be.”
Lance didn’t have the slightest idea of what to say to that. Things had already changed from being a formal doctor visit to just two men sitting in chairs. He knew it was different, yet somehow it didn’t feel that different.
“I’m not sure how to do that myself,” he said slowly. “I’ve heard a lot of good things, but I guess I’m already afraid that I’ll be the exception to the rule.”
“Ah,” the doctor said. “And that’s always the worst, isn’t it? I remember trying out for the basketball team in high school. Everybody else was good, and I’d always been told that I was good,” he said. “Yet, when I saw everybody, throwing these shots up there and dribbling like crazy,” he said, “it was just like everything went flying out of my hands, and I couldn’t do anything. I tripped on the floor, if you can believe that. I couldn’t shoot or even pass. I was a complete failure and figured I would be the only one who didn’t make the team.”
“Did you make the team?”
“I did,” he said, “but not in the first tryout. As it was, later I was playing with a bunch of guys, just tossing hoops and having fun. Apparently the coach saw me, called me over, and asked me what had happened at the tryout.”
“So what did you tell him?” Lance asked.
“I told him that I figured I would be the one who didn’t make it. Sixteen of us were there that day, and he was only looking for fifteen. My own insecurity told me that I would be the one who didn’t make it. So it was almost like a foregone conclusion, and I sabotaged my own tryout.”
“That’s an interesting way to look at it too,” Lance said, listening to the words and feeling the shock in his heart. “Do you think I’ve already sabotaged myself being here?”
“I don’t
