6.15.2008 • Sunday, June 15, 2008
Chapter 9
Sometimes, I thought, strange things happen. For the past few years after my mum’s demise, I had not celebrated my birthday. I would spend the day daydreaming or watching television. Landy does know when my birthday is, but strangely, she never once made an effort to celebrate it with me. However, this year, it was special. I had gone to school as usual, absorbed in the lecturer’s droning voice and immersed in the countless tutorials. When school ended though, Jacky came forward. He was half smiling and not looking into my eyes. This was the first time I saw embarrassment in his expression. “Hi, Joanna, well…” he zipped opened his bag and took out a wrapped box. It was rather small and the wrapping was done exquisitely. A red ribbon was tied on top. “Happy Birthday.” He said, and with two hands, passed me the box.I took a step back, inspected the box and then eyed him. A long period of silence went by. Jacky’s head was still hanging low. After a few seconds, he bit his teeth and whispered, “Take it, quick! I’m going to pee if you don’t take it!” Finally I took the present. “Thanks.” I said. It was very light and the box was hard. It had to be plastic. “I’ve got to go.” He said and went off, leaving me alone with the box. “I’m not embarrassed! I’m really not embarrassed! I just need to pee! Just, just wear it everyday!” he yelled as he was far away from me.I went home and with Landy, we opened the present. It was a branded watch. From then on, I wore the watch almost every time I went out. It had become part of my life. That silly guy. What’s there to be embarrassed about?
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Jacky accompanied me when I went for my next appointment with Dr. Ong. “How was the therapy with Mr. Kam?” Dr. Ong asked. “I cursed him.” Dr. Ong did not seem worried. He wrote something on his file. “Good for you. Okay, I remember you once said you’ve got a best friend called Landy who is immune to your curse?” I nodded. “Can you get her to meet me next time?” “I don’t think there’s a need-” “Doctor’s order. It will help, a lot. Alright?” Reluctantly, I nodded. When I told Jacky about it, he said he was eager about meeting Landy as well. And I felt something. Like a little anger directed at Landy.Was that feeling… jealousy?
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When more strange things happened, I knew somehow or other that my life had changed. On one of those days, I woke up very early in the morning. Having nothing to do, I took out almost every scrap of food in the refrigerator. Then I took wholemeal bread and began to make a sandwich with all the trimmings. I completed my ten-centimetre-high sandwich after fifteen minutes and packed it into a plastic bag. At lunch break that day, after Jacky and I had finished our meals, I passed him the sandwich. “You made it?” I nodded, not looking at him. But I was curious to see what his expression was, so I stole a quick look at him, and my eyes never left his then. His eyes were red. He was munching on the sandwich as if it was some expensive food from a classy restaurant. He then folded the plastic bag into a nice shape and kept looking at me. “Is it nice?” I asked. “Too nice.” He said, and suddenly I could hear his breathing. He was blinking a lot faster, as if to combat any tears. “Too nice.”
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“You made a sandwich for him? But you’re such a lousy cook! I mean, two months ago, you tried cooking instant noodles with egg and you didn’t even bother to crack open the egg. Wait a moment.” Landy said, leaning forward to me. I could not tell whether she was serious or not. “Did you actually use bread to make the sandwich? Or did you use sand instead?” I pushed her away and I laughed. It felt so good to laugh. “Bread. And yeah, by the way, Dr. Ong wanted to see you.” “Me?” Landy crossed and uncrossed her legs a few times. “Why me?” “I don’t know. You’re my best friend. My only friend. Maybe that’s why.” “Can I… not go?” “Come on, go. You’ll be able to see Jacky.” “Arh. Jacky here, Jacky there.” Landy said, stuffing her mouth with a few Mentos sweets. “Alright then, I’ll go for you. Tell me, is that… Dr. Ong handsome? Is he married?” “He’s single and available. He has a body of steel and a nuclear-powered mind. But be careful: He’s spent his campus life learning how to read people’s minds. You won’t wanna play with his heart.” “I love challenges.”
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I was having my breakfast that day in school with Jacky beside me when my phone rang. Glancing around to make sure no lecturers were around, I took out my phone. It was an unknown number. It was a nurse from Child’s Guidance Clinic. After confirming my identity, she said, “You’ve got an appointment with Mr. Kam this afternoon, right?”“Yes.” I said, and looked at Jacky. He had stopped chewing and was darting his eyes at me. Mr. Kam was the therapist I had cursed not too long ago.“Mr. Kam is on long term M.C. He’ll be back next month. I’ve checked with Dr.Ong, your doctor. He said he’d get another therapist for you. You have an appointment with Dr. Ong tomorrow, right? He’ll brief you on that.”I nodded at the phone. I had been expecting this. Jacky’s mouth was wide open, trying to read something from my expression. I must be frowning. “And yes, Dr. Ong reminded you to bring your friends along.” “Friends?” I asked. I thought it was just Landy? “Yes, that’ll be… Miss Landy and Mr. Jacky.” Oh. Jacky is just a friend. “I will. Will do. Thanks.” After I had told Jacky everything, he shrugged and then smiled. “Dr. Kam must have a very high fever.” “He broke his arm.” “The nurse said that?” “No, I didn’t ask-” “Then let’s just presume he had a very very high fever, alright?” Jacky agrued. “Please, Joanna. Mr. Kam had a very high fever. Come on, repeat after me. Mr. Kam had a very high-” “-fever.” I said, feeling like a primary school child. “No, you must read after me. Mr. Kam had a very high fever. Come on.” “Mr. Kam had a very high fever.” I said. Then I realized something.When I was with Jacky, I felt like a child in a nursery. And he, he was not the teacher, nor the fellow children. He was the big brother who always stood outside the window, smiling, encouraging and giving me tips. And throughout the whole day, I would be staring at the window, wondering when I would be able to be with him again. Oh shit. What am I thinking?
Posted by *ShAwnY at 13:25 0 comments
I Believe You
Chapter 8
I inspected the waiting area. The lighting was bright. There were many sofas along with some tables, all neatly placed, and a few stacks of magazines were resting on the tables. I stole a quick look at them. Most of them were parenting magazines.Jacky came forward with two cups of plain water. A few parents were with their young children (most of them below five years old). “It’s so empty here.” I whispered, taking a sip of the water. If I had spoken freely, my voice would have carried throughout the entire waiting area. “No worries.” Jacky patted my shoulder. The nurses at the counter were chatting with each other. A few doctors in their white coats walked in and out of their rooms, holding folders in their hand. I wondered which of them I would be allocated to. The nurse had said “Dr. Ong”. “Joanna Fung?” I glanced up. Out of nowhere, a tall young man was standing in front of me. He was wearing his doctor’s coat and looked like a decent chap, with his thick glasses and neat hairstyle. I stood up instantly and offered my hand for a handshake. “Come with me, will you?” he smiled. I turned and looked at Jacky. He was winking at me, and then relaxed on the sofa.I was led into Room 15, with the tag “Dr. Ong Kim Leng” on the door. The room had a sofa, a table strewn with toys, a big whiteboard and a desk with a computer. Dr. Ong sat on a chair and motioned for me to sit down. I looked around and realized that I should sit on the sofa. Never before had I sat on a sofa when I went to see a doctor. “Alright, Joanna, seventeen years old. Junior College student. National Junior College. Not bad.” He rolled his chair in front of me and pulled out a file with a pen. “Now, it’s only you and me. Just you, Joanna Fung, and me, Dr. Ong.” I nodded. “So whatever we say here, no one else is going to know. Alright? So we have a pact.” I nodded again, this time nervous. “I just want to let you know that coming here is the right choice. You know something is wrong, and you’re admitting it. Finally.” I did not wish to nod, but still, I did. He was very nagging. “Alright then, let’s not waste each other’s time. So, come on, tell me what’s bothering you.” Finally I got to talk. I told him everything that I had told Jacky about: The “curse”. Dr. Ong was amazingly attentive: he kept on listening, and while listening, he would write something on the file. Sometimes he would draw something and asked me irrelevant questions. “Tell me frankly, do you have a boyfriend?” “No.” “Are you happy when chatting with your best friend, Landy?” “Yes.” “How do you feel if I tell you that you’re a very creative thinker?” “I don’t know.” Finally, after an hour of confessing my problems to him, he closed his file. “Do you have any questions for me?” he asked me. I shook my head. “Alright then. What you’re suffering from is a mental illness called ‘Obsessive Compulsive Disorder’, or OCD for short.” I shrugged. I had never heard of this before. “Before I go on to tell you what OCD is, I’ll give you a simple example. Have you seen people in the coffee shop washing their hands almost every few minutes, rubbing their hands with soap till they tear their skin?” I nodded. I had known someone like that in my secondary school days. She just kept on going to the toilet to wash her hands. I always thought that she was just paying more attention to hygiene than us. “You see, they’re also suffering from OCD. They feel that their hands are always dirty, so they have the urge to wash them again and again. They’re obsessed with the thought of dirty hands. And they wash their hands to make them feel better. That’s their compulsion.” “And?” “You’re also suffering from OCD. Your case is a bit different. You’re obsessed with the thought that you’re ‘cursed’, hence you have the compulsion of not talking to others. It will make you feel better.”Crap, I thought. “In mental terms, we’re in a cycle of thought, behavior and feeling. You have the thought of fear when talking to others, fearing that you might curse them. So your behavior will be to avoid talking to them.” I toyed with my fingers. I was not paying attention. He stood up and began to draw the cycle for me to see. “So, we can’t change your thoughts. And your feeling, your fear, is created by your thoughts. So we can only help to change your behavior. Through a change in your behavior, your thoughts and feelings will change as well. We’ll go through a therapy called Cognitive Behavioral Psychotherapy to change your behavior. In other words, to be happy, you have to change the world or change your thinking. We’re here to change your thinking.” “Okay, so, when can we start?” Dr. Ong stared at me, his eyes and mouth wide open. I must have been the first patient to accept his diagnosis and treatment so straightforwardly.
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“Obsession Disordering Of …computing.” I explained to Jacky. “Eh, wait. OCD. Obsession Computer Disordering? I forgot the name of it. The short form is OCD.” “Sounds like the Police Force in Robocop, OCP. And what is it all about?” “I am obsessed with the ‘curse’. And I’m controlled by it. So they’re trying to change my thinking-eh, no. Not thinking. They’re trying to change my behavior. So that my thinking will change. And my feelings will change.” “The Thought-Feeling-Behavior cycle. I’ve heard of it before.” “Whatever.” I blurted. “And I’m supposed to meet this Mr. Kam later on. He’ll do a therapy on me. Change my behavior. Change my thoughts. Change my feelings.”
I was prescribed with medications that cost me well over ten bucks. It was “Fluoxetine”, some sort of SSRI (as mentioned by Dr Ong), or simply, an anti-depressant. We waited for another half an hour before Mr. Kam came forward to meet me. He was in his forties, with a lean build. We greeted each other and he led me to another room, leaving Jacky alone again. This time, the room was smaller. There were two small chairs, a small table and a desk. The walls were lined with drawings by children less than ten years old. I sat on one of the chairs. “I’ve read your files. I know everything about your condition, but I would like to hear the whole story again, from yourself.” And once again, I revealed my ‘curse’. Miraculously, I had now told three people about my ‘curse’ within two weeks. “Alright. OCD.” Mr. Kam did not seem to be as friendly as Dr. Ong. “This therapy involves doing something that is against your will. You think you can curse someone. So, come on. Curse me.” I was taken aback. He was insane. He must be. I had never expected that the fourth person I had confided my secret in would ask me to curse him. “Go on, curse me.” “I really have the curse” I said. “Don’t play these games.” He pointed at his forehead. “It’s all in the mind, Joanna. Your thoughts. Your thoughts are telling you it’s wrong. But I want to prove your mind wrong instead. Curse me. When your behavior changes, so do your thoughts, and eventually, your feelings. And then you’ll be cured. Come on.” I was thinking of Jacky. I wondered how he would react. This Mr. Kam was asking for trouble. He looked harmless though. “No.” I said. “Do you want to be cured?” “I’m not sick. I’m cursed.” “Trust me. Just this once. Just say that sentence. Prove me wrong.” “I don’t want to ruin you!” “You won’t. Curse me leniently then. We’ll do it slowly.” “No, please…” “Oh come on! Don’t make me bribe you with candies.” “Please don’t force me…” “Come on!” “Stop it…” “Curse me!” I could no longer take it. I stared at him, thought for a while then said softly, “You’ll break your arm within this week.” Mr. Kam smiled. He must be sick in the mind. He was the sick one, not me. That sicko! Trouble seeker. “Good, Joanna. How are you feeling now?” I kept quiet for a while. “Regretful. I just want to say sorry in advance to you. I hope you’ve bought insurance.” “Don’t worry, I’m insured. From a scale of one to hundred, one being least depressed, hundred being most depressed, how depressed are you feeling now?” “Hundred.” I said. He showed me a piece of paper with a table drawn on it and wrote something.We chatted about irrelevant things for the next ten minutes. He told me about the various kinds of obsessions people had, like the fear of using a fork and the fear of crossing the road. I was kind of amused yet at the same time amazed by these real-life stories. After fifteen minutes, he asked me how depressed I was again. I said hundred once more. An hour later, he asked again and I said hundred. Mr. Kam did not look pleased. He got me another date to come back for the next therapy session. “I believe by then your depression level won’t be hundred.” “Maybe more.” I said and went out to meet Jacky.When I told him what I had done, he just smiled. He did not believe in my curse as well. I would show him. I would show them just how powerful my curse is. Gosh, can’t they understand me?