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Patient: Mae Doan
Classification: Depressed
Goal: Sounds suicidal, recover lost ambition "there's a lot to life"
Assigned to: Dr.Morghan
Note/comments:

    I've read over this patient's file. Nobody seems to know when this was written. Many changes may have occurred since that time, could be worse or better. She's quiet, difficult to talk to. This is a serious case. We can't loose her nor can we be too obvious. Don't be too strict or too loose. We plan to supervise her, her parents decided, without being too obvious. Be strict enough so that these changes aren't as noticeable, "make his parents look good". I have faith in you Ms.Morghan, she has a caution on him, she may be suicidal, don't pry too much. She isn't open, likes to be quiet and keep to herself. Try to make her open up, gradual is best. Careful not to disturb her too much, don't dig up old memories or nasty thoughts.
 
 
 
 

        Mae Doan
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Wow! Does she ever exaggerate problems! I'm alone every night! Do I become a psycodic lunatic, ending up with a free ride through life? No! Well... I don't know the whole story, maybe her problems piled up and caused a "clog" in her brain, like a traffic jam. Nobody is ever to know what happens!

 
 
 
 

Patient: Quinn Kaye
Classification: Delusions
Goal: "He's normal, not different"
Assigned to: Dr.Benzoite
Note/comments:

     Good job on your last case! It was a long one, extremely challenging, but you handles the patient so well. You truly are an amazing therapist! Here's the next assignment. If you quickly review this case it would help a lot. I feel he is hiding something. I think he feels different from others and wants to stick out now. You must catch him before he goes too far and does something drastic! He might be dangerous, work as quickly and safely as you can. He refuses to go in for the day institutions, which are not compulsory (but should be). Don't force him, be cautious and gentle. You are good, one of the best! Keep it up, the world will thank you if you get this one back in control.
 
 
 

        Quinn Kaye
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

How can people deal with this stuff? How do they manage to keep this confidential? I feel that this patient should be locked up, and never to see day light again! How do people get so sick in the head? I will never be like that, it is impossible, I feel puzzeled by this, it'll keep me awake for weeks! Why'd I read it? Maybe this is why nobody else is supposed to read these files, they're so SCARY! I think that it doesn't matter if these files are kept confidential! These people are so far over the hill it won't matter to them, they're just like children, they don't understand anything!!!

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Patient: Nick Beck
Classification: Suggested and believed
Goal: easily persuaded, bring back to reality
Assigned to: Dr.Smyth
Note/comments:

    Glad to have you back. Here's an easy one to start you back. This patient has been confused. Convinced by another delusion case, imagining this region, which does not and can never exist. Perhaps suggest visiting this region to prove your point.
 
 
 

            Nick Beck
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

I've never heard of this classification, how can you put a name to this? I'd never be able to handle it, fixing all these people's problems... I can't believe how vulnerable the human mind really is. If this happened to him, can it happen to others too?? Can you imagine the raise I'd get if this did happen to others??? Maybe I could become a therapist because they'd need every sane person left to help out! I'd be rich! I think that I should'vge become a therapist! It would have been a better career choice! I could sit there listening to people's problems, I mean, these people are so pathetic they wouldn't understand anything you told them! They should be locked up, never let out of they're rooms, and no extras paid for, the government doesn't have the money to support these in-capable idiots!

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Patient:Yan/Dan Stein
Classification: disolutional/disturbed
Goal: Bring back to reality
Assigned to: Dr.Roberts
Note/comments:

Be seriously strict, assigned to you because you can keep a straight face. Be cautious, don't put him into denial or a worse state. Accept his story, don't be sarcastic or make him feel "disturbed". This shouldn't be difficult, but it is a challenge. Read over his story. He's had many problems, even if they are only dreams, they are dangerous to his mental health. Don't cause any other problems, remember, be strict!
 
 
 

Yan/Dan Stein
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Was this the patient's dream or is it what they really think? Either way they're freaky! Does he really see this stuff? If he does, he's really messed up! Could you imagine making a television show about these cases? Nobody would believe they were honest cases with the true stories! Maybe I should do that instead, it would be so much easier than being a therapist! I could be known in every house in the whole world! Can you imagine, rich and famous? I should consider this thought, their are drawers filled with these type of files!

 
 
 

Patient: Darcey Theado
Classification: Depression
Goal: accept death, especially her father's
Assigned to: Dr.Petrie
Note/comments:

    I've over looked this patient's case. She turned quickly, from denial to depression. I feel you will be the perfect match for her. I'm expecting that you'll take all the precautions. Typical adolescents need attention, she is special, she turned quickly and you must note ANY and ALL signs/symptoms/changes. It is up to you to get it out, be kind, like a friend. From what her mother has told us, she needs help. She's got the symptoms, changes in her regular life/activities, appetite and also she cries uncontrollably. She doesn't want to come, so make her first experience a good one, try to make her feel welcome. Be kind and patient. You're a good therapist, here's the perfect opportunity.
 
 
 

        Darcey Theado
 
 
 
 

It's the most calming place in the world, through my eyes anyway. In a private little bush, a section where there are only tall, thick and strong pine trees. They protect me from everything, so it had seemed. The best time to go to the special place is during a rain shower. The odd drop falls through the tightly woven branches and brings you back to earth before you have time to wonder off too far, while the other droplets provide a wonderful, soothing sound, a sound which takes no time to get accustomed to. The trees are tall, dark and they protect you from many things, be it the sound of voices from the outside or the cold tingling rain drops. The dead pine needles, which have accumulated over the years, offer a soft, rusty carpet which provides some ease to my weary feet. The trees also provide a subtle yet sweet scent which I find relaxing. It too helps relieve problems and it adds to the scene. Helping you leave your problems behind, freeing you from the nagging thoughts inside your head.

I can still remember the first time my father had introduced me to this magical place. It was many, many years ago now. Actually there's only a few days until the 10th anniversary. It was such a memorable moment, I'll never forget it. I can remember the day with ease, I think I might've know it before I knew my own birthday!

I was 5 at the time, I had just experienced the worst moment of my simple little life. My bird, Pergie, had passed away. He was a beautiful bird, mainly blue, a yellow belly and speckled with black spots. He had been a gift from my father and even though he was only a bird, I always considered him as my best friend (right after my dad). My mother despised the thing, she only saw it as a nucance, if she weren't feeding or cleaning after him, Pergie was making so much noise she'd end up with a headache. I guess they never seemed to hit it off, if you can hit it off with a bird. Anyway as I was saying, he had just passed away. I can remember this day as if it had been yesterday, clear as a bell. It was a perfect day, I was missing out on my regular summer activities which had been postponed due to rain. I was sitting on the old, half-rotten steps which deserved a new coat of paint. They lead up onto our sturdy porch which matched our well kept, 2 story country house. I was so upset I couldn't bring myself to cry, I'm guessing I was still in denial. If it had been up to my mother I might still be sitting there today, but my father came and broke the uncomfortable silence of my little world.

I didn't want to talk, but he ignored the signs, knowing it was partly his fault I was so upset. After all he had given Pergie to me. Also, I think Pergie meant something to Dad too. Pergie served as a link between us. Our shared passion was animals, and since my mother is allergic to everything form dust to flowers, I couldn't get any animals for pets so I got Pergie as a pet. He didn't cause her to act up.

"I'm really sorry about your loss" My father began by apologizing "I never thought it would end this way". He offered me another bird to " replace " Pergie. That set me off, I couldn't hold it in any longer, I began to cry, I felt as if I resembled a waterfall. "he's gone! I saw his lying on the bottom of his cage" I sobbed. He comforted me, well he tried any ways. Even at that age I wanted to be independent and soon I realized what I was doing so I pulled away. He stood up, as if he were leaving me, I didn't want to be alone, did I scare him or hurt his feeling? Out of curiosity and possibly guilt I looked to see if his eyes said I had, but instead I saw he was offering me an adventure.

He held out his callused, grease stained hand and offered it to me. Usually his hands weren't so black, but he had been working on the old, antique tractor since sun up. I placed my small, soft, white hand in his, which was over double the size of mine.

I stood up, everything was blurry through my watery eyes, but I trusted my father's secure direction. He lead me across the yard and we continued walking. It seemed as though hours had passed, mile after mile while the spring sun heated the soft land. Finally there was an addition to the scenery, some trees. We were standing at the opening of the big forest. At the time it was the equivalent of the jungles down south. I had never been permitted to come this close, and I never tried for I knew if I survived the journey through the jungle, without getting eaten, there would be consequences to be pay. I did not dare to challenge that rule.

I looked at my father, wondering why there was a pause in our travels, I could tell there was a new privilege on its way. I had grown close enough to my father that I could tell what type of mood he was in and how to de-code it. He turned to me as we approached the first line of trees (and weeds). It smelt so sweet and the trees were huge. They had a healthy green color to them. My father's blue eyes glistened and sparkled in the early summer's sun.

I turned and took note of the new and interesting plants around me, and I realized that I had forgotten my sadness. My father didn't pick me up, as he usually did, he just continued to lead me through the opening.

I looked up at the tall, green trees. I couldn't help but giggle as I wondered if this was where the giant, from the classic story of Jack and the Beanstalk, lived. My father looked pleased with himself, he knew he had been successful. He gave me a tour naming off all the plants and trees. I didn't know if they were the right names and even if I had known, I wouldn't have corrected him because I had been devoured, mesmerized by the breathtaking view which nature provided.

Time had passed by so quickly. The walk home wasn't as long as the trip there, but as we approached the house, my father stopped by the steep hill which lay beside our red wooden barn. He motioned me to join him, which I gladly did.

He began explaining how he went there with his own troubles, whenever he was sad or frustrated and they seemed to magically disappear. Then he told me that it was my place, and he could find a new place. Whenever I was sad or needed my own space that bush was where I could go to get away and my troubles would be taken care of..

Being an imaginative little child, I questioned how the forest could take away my problems, as it had done earlier today. Soon finding out which parent had largely added to my imagination, my father made up a believable story of how the trees and plants survived on people's problems. They'd use the problems to make themselves stay beautiful, strong and green, so if I didn't go and share my problems with them I'd turn green from keeping all those problems to myself.

I believed every word he told me, and for many years too. I still question if there wasn't half a truth in that story because it always worked as he said it would, that is until now. The bush, which seems to have shrunk down to an acre as I grew up, had always taken care of me, until this past week. Now it only made it worse. Its as if the trees are out for their revenge, throwing all my problems back at me, chasing me out with lethal weapons and angry faces. I had no choice, I had to leave. I never thought I could be forced to leave.

My father has grown older since that first visit to the bush. He is no longer as young as he used to be. It had began to show over the passed year. He continued getting weaker, spending more time sleeping and when he was awake he was dizzy, left without any energy. At this very moment, he is lying alone in a little, white air-conditioned room, listening to the beep of his heart monitor. I know I should be there to comfort him. If the shoe were on the other foot, he'd be there 24 hours a day. It is hard for me to accept the picture of him lying there so weak and helpless. I always looked up to him, he was always so strong, like a tree. No matter how much older they got, the trees always seemed to grow stronger, but this past week it was as if somebody had taken an ax to him, and slowly they were chopping my father down.

I'm sitting on the large rock which sits in a small, shadowed clearing in the pine bush. I can probably name every plant in view and how many leaves the plant has without looking. I always came to this warm and smooth rock, but today this rock did not help any. It was angry with me, maybe my pain was too much for both of us to handle together, an overload. It was as if the whole bush is mad at me and they were getting their revenge, throwing all my previous problems back at me. Chasing me with their weapons and unsatisfied, angry faces. They were forcing me to leave, showing no mercy, they didn't want me there today. I then did something I never thought I would do, the pain was too much, I had to leave the enchanted forest!

As I walked down the grassy, but well-used lane which served as a link between the forest and our farm, I couldn't help but think of all the great times my father, and best friend have shared. I remembered him teaching me to play pitch and catch, perfecting my aim, fishing in the crystal clear lake, usually finding ourselves swimming back to the shore after capsizing our boat, camping out without any provisions, living in the wild, and of course, the first time he introduced me to the pine bush. I walked by the hill upon which we sat while he informed me of the magic which the forest held.

I came to the house, my eyes filled with tears, but I was still in control, I was determined not to give in. I saw I had just arrived in time, my mother was struggling to lock the front door. With bright spring flowers, which were freshly picked, in one hand and a few treats in the other. I could tell they were going to cheer up my father's room in the hospital. The room is dull and plain, from what my mother has told me. I almost backed out, one thing pulling me away from going and staying here to guard the place and the other, the stronger one, accepted the invite my mother had proposed to me. We didn't speak a word, I knew where she was going and she knew where I wanted to go. I helped her by taking the flowers so she could lock the front door. The old porch, which also had grown weak over the years, creaked as we made our way to the freshly painted, strong, steps which were new. I had helped my father replace them last year. We climbed into the my mother's old, rusty car. It almost refused to start, but mom had always been good with stubborn things. She managed to start the car, and in silence we pulled out onto the dirt road, decorated with pot holes. We bounced silently, as we drove down the road listening to the insecure noises of the rackety old car. We weren't a bunch of hill billies or anything though. My father's vehicle is more up-to-date and modern, but we couldn't find the courage to start it up.

As we pulled up into the hospital's parking lot, filled with people's vehicles much like our own, I wasn't so sure I should be her. If I started to cry in front of my father it wouldn't help him, but if I don't even visit him, that may be worse. At least this way he'll know I care.

The car door creaked as it opened, attracting some attention, which soon left as an exited new couple made an exit with a new addition to their family. I couldn't help but wonder if my own father had looked that goofy when I was born. The man was practically sterilizing the ground before his wife was permitted to walk on it! My dad was likely to have been worse. It hit me hard, as if I had jumped from a building and landed on the cement sidewalk, causing my organs to splatter. The reality of the situation made me speed up. Surely a life can be taken away as easily as it is given. I couldn't believe myself, what kind of thoughts are these? Am I giving up, accepting the fact my father will soon be gone? There's still hope, miracles, they've happened before, he can recuperate. If you cut a limb off a tree it can come back more beautiful than it had been before, no miracles needed. I didn't feel guilty or selfish while wishing for a miracle though, my dad is one of the best, if not the best. I need him, I can't afford to loose my best friend, he will recuperate, he's too strong to go.

I had gotten so caught up in my hopeful thoughts that I hadn't remembered entering the hospital or getting on the elevator, I was no longer in control of my legs. I had made it all the way to the 4th floor and the elevator signaled us with a beep and jerked us just incase we missed it. I was reminded of the story my father had made up about the giants who operated the elevators. The doors opened and revealed the sad truth. My dad must be sick. If he's here, he needs help, he's worse off than any tree I could try to compare him to. The patients were all sick, pale and weak.

I let my mother go first, I knew I'd take more time than her, she came twice everyday, and this was her shorter visiting time. I sat on the cheep plastic chair in the cold hallway. I watched as the nurses walked back and forth with trays of pills and needles. I wondered which ones went to my father. The 10 minutes had passed quickly, my mom came out of the room, a little dazed, but still in good shape. It was now my turn. I looked into the room, hoping to catch a glance so I didn't act so surprised when I saw him. I was unable to see my father so I walked in slowly, preparing myself for the shock. I saw a small man lying in a bed, too weak to be my father, it was impossible. I almost left to see if there was some mistake, but when he said hello there was no denying it. It was hard to see him like this, tubes coming out of him and he was too weak! I was uncomfortable and was trying not to be obvious about it, I sat down in the chair beside his bed.

"So, how have you been? I trust you're taking care of the place" He started to talk as he always had. He didn't seem to be uncomfortable or ashamed to be seen like this, which I think helped me get used to it. In no time at all he got me talking and we talked about everything from past, present and future. He also told me about his new place and made me promise to keep it looking good for him, because soon he wouldn't have any problems to share with it. It was like it always had been between us, until the nurse came in "I'm sorry, you two are getting along so well, but I'll get in trouble" she thought out loud. "Visiting hours have been over for an hour" she explained quietly. There really isn't a polite way to ask somebody to leave, but if there were she was polite. I noticed my father was looking tired so I went to his bed side, and got a comforting hug. I needed him to comfort me now , as he was the only one who could. Of course his magic worked as it always had and I didn't loose my independence because of him. It was difficult to leave him there alone, but I knew his sleep was needed if he were ever to get well again.

As I left the room, I thought about his new place, and frankly I couldn't believe where it was. It happened to be in my most feared place. It was in the barn, a little dark, gloomy and cold stone-walled room. When I was younger I used to see things, people in there and I could never give up that fear!

I left the hospital, out the big automatic doors, I paused as I walked towards the hospital parking lot and turned to look at my father's window. He was there waving to me like a child. I watched as the nurse dragged him back to his bed. She shot me an evil look, as if it were my fault. Is it my fault he loves me enough to say good bye?

I walked to the car, pried open the door, hoping it wouldn't fall off, and climbed in. My mother and I rode home in silence again, over the old dirt road. When we got home I climbed the stairs, washed my face, and climbed into my cool bed. For the first time, in a long time, I didn't cry myself to sleep, I knew my father wasn't in any misery.

I awoke to the sound of birds chirping. I went over to the window and opened the curtains to look outside. It was an extremely bright day out, but everything looked better than I had remembered it. The trees were full and a healthy green, the grass was the same. I saw the bright pink, yellow and purple spring flowers in the small garden. Indeed it was quite the sight.

I threw on an old, well worn pair of jeans and an old faded T-shirt. I didn't bother with socks, mainly so I wouldn't have to wear shoes. I made my way down the stairs and was heading toward the door which would lead me onto the old porch. I heard voices coming from the other room so I decided to go greet whom ever it was. I was in a cheery mood so I figured everyone else should join me.

I followed the sound, which came from the kitchen. As I entered, everything seemed typical, a vase with flowers on the table mom at the side of the table with her coffee mug in hand and dad sat at the end. Wait! Dad, he's back! An instinctive wave of joy forced me to run up and welcome him with a warm hug. He stood up to help me stop, but that action itself made me stop dead in my tracks.

I stared impolitely and froze with fear. His legs, they were gone! He was floating, the top half anyway. Then I realized he was gradually disappearing, the bottom of his shirt was becoming transparent. I ran to him, holding on to what was left. He can't leave me, he just got back. This can't be happening. It's one of his tricks! All kinds of stories ran through my head trying to convince me, but the truth never left, he was leaving and there was no denying it!

I wrapped my arms around his rib cage, holding on for dear life, trying to slow down the process. It was weird though, he showed no signs of fear or distress. I looked into his eyes begging for an explanation. He replied with a smile, his eyes grew moist as he hugged me and said good bye telling me I'd be missed. With that he was gone, completely disappearing without leaving a trace.

I turned to my mother, remembering I wasn't alone as she let out a gasp. She was having difficulty breathing until she broke it down to short gasps. I watched as she crumbled to the floor crying beyond control. Then as the room became brighter and a little blurry I realized it had been a dream and was waking up, but still, I heard my mother weeping.

I walked to her room, along the cold tile floor which tingled my sleepy toes. I found my mother sitting on her bed, the phone receiver in hand, red faced and her tears flowing down her cheeks, muttering something about him being all alone. I didn't find reason to wait for an explanation, I knew what had happened, he was gone, my father had died. He had come in my dream and said his final good bye. I left her alone, knowing I wanted to be alone at that moment. I went back to my room, reflecting upon the situation, sat down on my bed and let the tears soak my face. I looked up, maybe hoping my father would be standing there, as he often had whenever I sat here like this, but today he wasn't. I was alone as he was when he died.

I then noticed a mark on the calendar. It had been 10 years ago today that Pergie had died and it had also been 10 years since I had been introduced to the forest. This reminded me of my last promise to him. I had to go out and share my problems with the room in the barn. I now realize what he was saying last night, when he said he'd have no more problems to share with it, he knew he was dying. I was hoping he was saying he was getting better and he wouldn't have any problems worth while compared to this one. I guess I was still hoping then.

I walked across the yard to the barn, no dog to greet me because my mother was allergic. I opened the creaky door and almost lost the courage to enter, my old fears still haunted me, not planing on letting me fulfill the promise to my father. I was strong though, not a coward, I had to live up to my promise.

I made my way to the small room at the end of the barn. The barn was musty because it had been closed up for years, without any animals occupying it. I reached the little room, and took a deep breath of the stale air, as if it were going to be my last. I gained up the courage to step down onto the soft soil floor. Opening my eyes I was surprised, it wasn't dull, nor was it musty or dark. There was a small window which allowed the sun to enter and the wind to clear out the stale and rotten air. It was beautiful, the stone walls were finished like those of a house and it was undescribable. I didn't expect it to be so wonderful.

I guess my dad came here often. the place looked well kept . I felt my eyes beginning to sting, as if I had splashed lemon juice in them. I had denied my father's judgment, I hadn't believed him when he said it was better than the forests. I had to sit down, I was getting dizzy with pain. I had just lost my father and best friend! What was I going to do now? I sat down on the large stone, identical to the one in the pine bush. The thought that my father had touched it soothed me some, and I had found something to help comfort me, but it would never replace my father's ability and talent to solace me. I would never be comforted by him again, last night was the last time. For some reason I wasn't overly upset by this, maybe it was because I knew he wasn't suffering or because of the room, but I wasn't upset. Already the place seemed to be looking better. It accepted my problems and my father had been right again.
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

I couldn't resist, the girl's Admissions Form looked so interesting. All I can comment on is that I'm happy that it didn't happen to me! Their relationship was so close, why does it always happen to the good people? It's not fair! She didn't deserve to loose him. But if life were fair would it be worth while?? If it  were there would be so many possabilities for me! I could be a therapist or famous television host! Wow! It would be so awsome if life were fair, everybody with equal chances and stuff! That would be worth livng, better than it is now, that's for sure! If only life were fair!

 
 
 

 Where would we all be without therapists? Would we eventually become violent, killing beasts? Could  we bring an end to our kind? Here are a few thoughts on therapy, like why we need therapists, when to seek help and the origins of the practice of therapy. Some of the topics are researched where as others are just my personal thoughts and opinions.

 Why do we need therapists? It seems as though we've gone for centuries without therapy and yet in the past few decades therapy has become common. I bet anyone can name a person they know who has been affected by therapy! Why has therapy become so popular? Are our jobs and lives more stressful? Is it because our family members don't discuss their problems anymore? Have we heard  somebody's success story whom has attended therapy? Or is it the thought that therapy is the professional way to go and admit to our problems? I think the real question is it popular because its new or is it just a fad?

 Therapy dates beck from the late 1800's. It has been around for over a century! Sigmund Freud is the one responsible for developing psychoanalysis theories. He started by connecting human behavior and the unconscious mind. He advanced through out his life, eventually his work become more accepted.

 Another question which often comes up is do you really need therapy?  Before anybody seeks therapy they should consider the following;

   Are there any severe or chronic problems interfering with your daily activities, relationships or job?

   Has your life lost meaning, do you enjoy yourself as much as you used to?

   Symptoms of depression, feelings of anxiety and/or sadness, loss of interest in daily activities or activities which you enjoyed in the past, a disturbance in your sleeping pattern or appetite.

 How does therapy help? Is it because your mind is so overwhelmed it enjoys getting the extra load off? All you're doing is talking, your problems don't just float away! Do you see it more clearly after talking or does the therapist suggest alternatives or solutions? It could also be the power of suggestion, you were told that it would help, so your convinced you're getting better.

 I guess it's up to the therapists to keep people sane, even if it is only the thought that you're getting help which heals you. Therapy has worked for many people. I hope it continues healing people, after all, it might be a person who puts an end to the world.
 
 

I guess that it is a stressful job after all, I would be too worried that I'd mess somebody up more than they already were! I find it complex, it's mind boggling. That might be the reason why I work at the front desk and not behind closed doors. Now that I've supplied this information I actually can say I don't have a job any more. I wonder what will come next, something fun, simple, maybe  I'll become a nut, I can't handle all of this thinking! They've got it easy, everything is paid for, nothing for them to do! It's final, I no longer work at the front desk, I am a NUT!!! See you all in therapy!!!!!!!