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Dr. Balis:
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Hello, Decker. Please come in. I'm very sorry I'm so late--I got blocked in and couldn't get my car out all morning. Go ahead, have a seat. Decker? What's wrong? Are you all right?
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Mr. Jenkins:
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It's 11:20, Doctor. Twenty minutes late! Just because I'm a schizophrenic, you can just shit all over me?
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Dr. Balis:
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Decker, I assure you that I had no intention of causing any disrespect towards you. And I apologize if this has caused you to miss any other appointments...
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Mr. Jenkins:
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It's just time, Doctor. It's just time.
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Dr. Balis:
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I'm sorry, Decker, I don't understand.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Oh forget it, Doctor. No matter how I'll try to explain it to you, even you wouldn't be able to follow. Let's just get on with the rest of my story.
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Dr. Balis:
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Decker, just relax for a moment. Catch your breath. Slow down a bit. Okay, good. Now, what's bothering you today?
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Mr. Jenkins:
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What's bothering me?
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Dr. Balis:
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Yes. What's bothering you? I realize that starting a session late could cause some frustration, but it shouldn't cause rage. Therefore, I believe that there is something else that is contributing to the rage I just witnessed. What is it?
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Mr. Jenkins:
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You are pretty good at this therapist thing, Doctor. Although I don't think I would have called it rage.
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Dr. Balis:
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Well, what would you call it, Decker?
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Fury, maybe. But rage? That's so...it's an evil word.
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Dr. Balis:
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What is the difference between the words?
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Rage gives the impression of a mad man. I just equate rage with death, I guess.
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Dr. Balis:
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And with what do you equate fury?
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Pure anger! Doctor, I have to tell you something, and I don't want you to think that I'm being disrespectful of you or your profession. This is honestly the first time that I've ever seen you act like a doctor. I see you psychoanalyzing my brain as we speak, and I answer your questions, and it's not becoming of you.
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Dr. Balis:
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Hmm. That's interesting. I would, however, like to hear the answer to my initial question. What's bothering you, Decker?
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Fair enough. I guess I'm just nervous. I have an appointment with someone later this afternoon about an apartment. I'm worried that the guy will think I'm just a little left of center and not lease the place to me.
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Dr. Balis:
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Well, I think landlords are usually more interested in your financial situation. The guy might not even notice what color hair you have.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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I don't have any hair.
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Dr. Balis:
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See? And besides, you can make a very good first impression if you try. I know you can. So is there anything else? Is there something else bothering you?
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Mr. Jenkins:
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I sure hope you're right. And yes, there is another thing that has been occupying my mind--my dad's coming tonight. He's staying at some fancy place downtown; I'm meeting him in the restaurant for dinner at eight. He's a nice man and all, but it's just that I don't know him and he wants to be my father. I haven't figured it out yet.
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Dr. Balis:
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Well, it may take some time getting used to having a father. Why don't you tell me how you found him?
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Well, after I found out his name, I began to think that I almost never was Decker Jenkins--I could have been Decker Parish or something else Parish, you know? And that felt very strange, almost like I didn't know myself. It turned the desire to find him and find out about that other part of myself--a self I didn't know--into a need to know more. But the more I thought about it, the more nervous I got. I even started losing my breath. It became very hard to focus on anything, and breathing was so hard. I thought I was going to die. Next thing I remember, I was sitting up against a tall building with all these people staring at me.
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Dr. Balis:
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Hmm.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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This lady with long red, almost orange, hair and bright red lipstick told me to breathe deep. She said I was hyperventilating. Anyway, that woman is another story that I'll save for later, but she got me to calm down. Her name was Pam, and I stayed with her while I was in Chicago. But like I said, that's another story. Anyway, she helped me track down dad. We found out that he lived in the Hancock Building on the 44th floor. We didn't have a phone number, so we just decided that I would go and knock on his door. I tried that. It wasn't that easy. First, they wouldn't let me into the elevator that went up to the apartments in the building. I couldn't convince the security guard guy who I was. He just kept telling me that he knew Mr. Parish didn't have a son or any visitors, for that matter. So that was problem number one.
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Dr. Balis:
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Hmm. I would like to get back to the hyperventilating after you've finished your story.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Problem number two--he wasn't home. I finally convinced the security guard to call my dad, but he wasn't home. So I thought I'd wait. Well, the first fifteen minutes I waited, about a hundred people got on that elevator. Eighty percent of them were men--but none of them appeared to be my dad. I did this for about a week and decided that he was either out of town or the doormen had told him about me and now he was avoiding me. So I gave the doorman the number to Pam's apartment and asked him to give it to Mr. Parish the next time he saw him. It took about a month. I was ready to give up and come back here when a man called. He had a very deep voice and sounded rather important. He asked for me, and I told him that he had me. He then said he was my father. We met for dinner at some fancy restaurant. Pam helped me shop for the clothes that I needed for the place--shirt, tie, and those sort of things. I went to the restaurant and asked for Mr. Parish. The guy in the tux took me to a table where I was sitting--Mr. Parish was me! The guy looked just like me. I knew instantly he was my dad. And he acted like my father. It was very strange and very uncomfortable.
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Dr. Balis:
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Hmm.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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I spent about a week with him and learned some things about my life before I remember--all stuff that I'm sure will come out later. But enough about this, I don't really want to get too deep today. Next week, I'll tell you about Pam. That will really shock you, Doc. What did you think of my writing?
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Dr. Balis:
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Your poetry? I thought it was very dark.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Yeah, it is that.
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Dr. Balis:
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I think writing is a good way for you to express some of your feelings and emotions. I would like you to keep writing if you could.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Sure. Here is another one I wrote.
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Dr. Balis:
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Thank you. Before we quit for today, I want to give a prescription for your medication.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Come on, Doc. I didn't even mention Simian today. He hasn't bothered me for a long time, not since Pam anyway.
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Dr. Balis:
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That's good. But I still think it would be best if you returned to taking this medication on regular basis. Your outburst today is a clear example of that, don't you think?
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Mr. Jenkins:
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I feel fine, Doctor Balis. I...
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Dr. Balis:
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We had a deal.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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All right. However, I don't need them. But if you think I need them...
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Dr. Balis:
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Thank you, Decker. I'll see you next week.
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Mr. Jenkins:
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Goodbye.
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###
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Doctor Balis' Notes on this Session
Transcripts of Decker Jenkins' Communications
