Cold Hard Fear

Contributor: LA Sykes

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‘’You will most certainly NOT be leaving the hospital!’’ Doctor Bubba stated hysterically. Talking to his patients was very stressful, triggering his self-diagnosed situation-specific social anxiety disorder that he’d diagnosed himself with after long periods of self-assessment. He was very convincing in his diagnoses, especially regarding himself, and was suddenly pleased with his expertise on the matter which reduced his anxieties in this social interaction. Relaxing, he leaned back cooly and caressed the sleeve of his suit jacket with the leather elbow patches that he wore continually in the belief they exuded intellectualism, which triggered severe bouts of self-consciousness, triggering an acute bout of self-consciousness.

‘’Why not! I’ve been compliant with this ridiculous charade to assuage my Community Psychiatric Nurses’ fears! If she hadn’t gone off sick with panic attacks she would have vouched for me to the N’th degree!’’, pleaded Stuart-the dog-shit-obsessionist convincingly. Then he realised his C.P.N. may have had a panic attack witnessing this and was caught between a rock and a hard place. Doctor Bubba may have attributed her panic attack to his plea for discharge which would have triggered a stress response in the doctor, ergo ruling out this as an option. He silently thanked his lucky stars for his C.P.N’s nervous disposition, simultaneously cursing her for her nervous disposition in not being able to vouch for him.

Doctor Bubba felt a nervous trickle of cold sweat break out on his lower back as he tried to remember what assuage meant. For a brief instant he worried profusely that he was in the early stages of Alzheimers disease and his short term memory was beginning to fail him, but this fear was quickly forgotten much to his immediate relief. He stated emphatically ‘’But you’re showing all the symptoms of someone suffering from severe paranoia, even persecution and removal of freedom of choice, more-so that somehow you are being controlled by an external influence. Because of this I will not sanction your discharge. In fact I will recommend you will go back on ten minute observations! It is necessary for someone to watch you every ten minutes to assess whether or not you are paranoid about people watching you. That’s my decision!’’, stated Doctor Bubba with an air of relief and subsequent self-conscious paranoia about the leather elbow patches being visible while gesticulating. ‘’And stop staring at my elbow patches will you! That is a covert attempt at ridicule!’’ Dr Bubba added firmly with no conviction.

Stuart-the-dog-shit-obsessionist was momentarily captivated by the leather elbow patches which he had never noticed before and as hard as he tried could not stop his face from revealing overt ridicule.

‘’Now that is overt ridicule!’’ Dr Bubba expelled with instantaneous detection. ‘’You are much worse than I thought! You’re asking for discharge? Why that’s insane!’’

Stuart-the-dog-shit-obsessionist was swiftly ushered from the consulting room with extreme despondency, not only because of his denial of leave or discharge but the fact was he still hadn’t been able to explain or express his concerns regarding the consequences of his dog shitting in public when he’d failed to carry a shit scooper bag. According to the council’s solicitors he’d been photographed and CCTV’d committing this heinous act of public indecency, yet he retraced his steps and couldn’t find the camera. As such, he’d began to reason people around him had been the instigators and therefore likely been videoing him and his dog on their walks, supplying the only source of evidence for the council charge. He’d then started to make attempts to find out which one of these vindictive bastard neighbours it was, to no avail. An innocent chat with his C.P.N about this and he was here, due to her anxiolitic proclivities. The terrifying problem was that Stuart-the-dog-shit-obsessionist had never been paranoid before, nor was he obsessed by dog shit and became increasingly depressed by being regarded as an obsessionist about his dog shitting. He had a C.P.N only because he’d had a depressive period in the past and was as such humouring a follow up. This worried him immensely and the dilemma was neither being addressed, nor seen in true light. It was beginning to evolve into his ball and chain of insanity according to the labile doctor with the bizarre overtly ridiculous elbow patches. Stuart retired to his room, his agitation increasing cold hard fear by the ten minute intervals he saw staff checking whether he was paranoid about being watched by people by watching him every ten minutes.

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LA Sykes is a psychotherapist and published sports writer from Manchester England. Bringing a new voice of satire and musings from the inside.

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Author: LA Sykes