A New Perspective on an Old Theme
folder
M through R › Psych
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
27
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4,911
Reviews:
9
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Psych
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
27
Views:
4,911
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Psych, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 16 -- Fifty One Fifty
Henry spun on the doctor, his face red with rage. “You want to put my son in the loony bin!? No way! I won’t have it!”
“Henry, calm down,” Karen tried, but Henry almost shook with the force of his rage.
“No! I won’t calm down! My son died! He died!” He glared at the others. “Don’t you understand!? He physically died, and now you want to lock him up like he’s some sort of . . . some sort of mentally deficient psychopath!”
“Mr. Spencer,” Doctor Connors said with a resigned sigh. “I know what happened to your son. I was the one who removed the bullets and sewed your son together as my nurse kept his heart pumping with her hand. I only have Shawn’s best interests in mind here. And, as you’ll recall, I did tell you there was going to be some sort of mental repercussion after the shooting. It’s unavoidable that after that kind of trauma, the mind is going to suffer some kind of damage. It is my firm belief that the hallucinations he’s having are a direct result of that trauma, and the Behavioral Science floor is the best thing for him. There are people who are trained to handle the things that Shawn’s going through, and I’m sure that you don’t want him to continue to suffer as he is. I mean, if this was a physical thing, I‘m quite sure you‘d put a cop on the door to keep him in the hospital. Mental issues are no different. If he needs to be in a hospital then no amount of denial is going to help.”
“De’ Nile isn’t just a river in Egypt,” Lassiter said, and Henry, as well as everyone else, was silent.
Finally, Henry slumped, exhausted, into a chair. “I just want my son back,” he dropped his head into his hands. “I want him to bound into the house like he owns everything and life is a banquet prepared just for him. I want him to promise to help me with the house, and then ‘forget’ to show, and try to snow me with dumb excuses. I want his stupid behemoth to pull up in front of my house, and I want him to argue with me over the stupidest things as he and Gus fight over who gets the last ear of corn. I want my son back.”
“That’s not going to happen right away, Mr. Spencer, if ever,” Doctor Connor’s voice was gentle, and he gripped Henry’s shoulder briefly. “I’m sorry. I wish I had better news, but I’m not going to make promises I can’t keep. I will tell you, though, that even if he doesn’t go voluntarily, I may be forced to Baker Act him, as we called it in Florida . . .”
“Fifty One Fifty him?” Henry swallowed, and the doctor nodded.
“The way he is, he is a definite threat to himself, even if it is involuntarily, and I won’t have all my good work go down the drain for a hallucination. I read the papers, Mr. Spencer, and while, to certain members of the medical community at least, Shawn’s methods may be suspect, he has done some great works. I also like, and respect, your son, and I’d like to see that he stays around a while longer. Maybe, eventually, he‘ll be able to continue doing his good work.”
“But not with these hallucinations,” Henry said from between his hands, and the doctor nodded.
“Exactly.”
“It just doesn’t seem right,” Juliette said quietly, and the doctor smiled just as sadly.
“Trauma very seldom is,“ he said, and sighed. “I’m going to check on my patient now. The sedative I ordered should be working. I‘ll let the nurse know when it‘s okay for you to go back into his room.” He left and the room was silent as each and every person in it finally realized exactly how much damage had been done to the irrepressible person they all knew and liked . . . even if it wasn’t easily admitted or readily acknowledged.
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“Henry, calm down,” Karen tried, but Henry almost shook with the force of his rage.
“No! I won’t calm down! My son died! He died!” He glared at the others. “Don’t you understand!? He physically died, and now you want to lock him up like he’s some sort of . . . some sort of mentally deficient psychopath!”
“Mr. Spencer,” Doctor Connors said with a resigned sigh. “I know what happened to your son. I was the one who removed the bullets and sewed your son together as my nurse kept his heart pumping with her hand. I only have Shawn’s best interests in mind here. And, as you’ll recall, I did tell you there was going to be some sort of mental repercussion after the shooting. It’s unavoidable that after that kind of trauma, the mind is going to suffer some kind of damage. It is my firm belief that the hallucinations he’s having are a direct result of that trauma, and the Behavioral Science floor is the best thing for him. There are people who are trained to handle the things that Shawn’s going through, and I’m sure that you don’t want him to continue to suffer as he is. I mean, if this was a physical thing, I‘m quite sure you‘d put a cop on the door to keep him in the hospital. Mental issues are no different. If he needs to be in a hospital then no amount of denial is going to help.”
“De’ Nile isn’t just a river in Egypt,” Lassiter said, and Henry, as well as everyone else, was silent.
Finally, Henry slumped, exhausted, into a chair. “I just want my son back,” he dropped his head into his hands. “I want him to bound into the house like he owns everything and life is a banquet prepared just for him. I want him to promise to help me with the house, and then ‘forget’ to show, and try to snow me with dumb excuses. I want his stupid behemoth to pull up in front of my house, and I want him to argue with me over the stupidest things as he and Gus fight over who gets the last ear of corn. I want my son back.”
“That’s not going to happen right away, Mr. Spencer, if ever,” Doctor Connor’s voice was gentle, and he gripped Henry’s shoulder briefly. “I’m sorry. I wish I had better news, but I’m not going to make promises I can’t keep. I will tell you, though, that even if he doesn’t go voluntarily, I may be forced to Baker Act him, as we called it in Florida . . .”
“Fifty One Fifty him?” Henry swallowed, and the doctor nodded.
“The way he is, he is a definite threat to himself, even if it is involuntarily, and I won’t have all my good work go down the drain for a hallucination. I read the papers, Mr. Spencer, and while, to certain members of the medical community at least, Shawn’s methods may be suspect, he has done some great works. I also like, and respect, your son, and I’d like to see that he stays around a while longer. Maybe, eventually, he‘ll be able to continue doing his good work.”
“But not with these hallucinations,” Henry said from between his hands, and the doctor nodded.
“Exactly.”
“It just doesn’t seem right,” Juliette said quietly, and the doctor smiled just as sadly.
“Trauma very seldom is,“ he said, and sighed. “I’m going to check on my patient now. The sedative I ordered should be working. I‘ll let the nurse know when it‘s okay for you to go back into his room.” He left and the room was silent as each and every person in it finally realized exactly how much damage had been done to the irrepressible person they all knew and liked . . . even if it wasn’t easily admitted or readily acknowledged.
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