AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He knew that look.
He steeled himself. “Hi, good to meet you.”
“You too.” Grant’s gaze shifted quickly from his face. The flatness of his expression was starkly at odds with his super-fit physique. Solo could almost recite the guy’s story for him. Grant Lewis had no doubt been strong and confident once, ready to face whatever life threw at him, except somewhere in war-torn Afghanistan, life had thrown him hell and the devil, and now the haunting just wouldn’t stop.
Yep, Solo knew the story off by heart.
As Grant meandered over to the table to grab a cup of tea, a few more people filtered in, all with the posture of having been defeated by life. It was something about their shoulders, like the weight of the world was bearing down on them. They stood talking in low voices, or simply sat down, cupping their mugs between their hands and staring into space.
Finally, Polly looked at her watch, gave her hands a quick clap and raised her voice a little over the murmurs. “Looks like this is it, guys. Shall we get started?”
There were six participants. Some weeks, Polly had told him, there were up to ten, but rarely did everyone attend at once. Six was manageable for starters. At least he wouldn’t have too many names to remember.
“Okay, before we share how your week’s been, I just wanted to introduce our new psychiatrist, Dr Solo Jakoby, who will be co-facilitating with me for the next four weeks while Ben is away.”
All eyes shifted to Solo. “Maybe you’d like to say a few words.” Polly flashed him her best professional smile.
“Sure.” Solo nodded. Why did he feel so nervous? Was it Polly and her unwavering scrutiny, or was it once again being around so many sufferers of PTSD?
All of them potent reminders of Drew.
He cleared his throat. “Hi, everyone. Good to meet you. I guess you’d like to know a little about me? I’ve been qualified as a psychiatrist for six years, previously working in Sydney and now here in Perth as a three-month locum.” A wave of near-panic dragged over him like a physical weight, threatening for a second to pull him under. He forced his spine back into the chair, cleared his throat. “PTSD has been a special interest area of mine for a while now.”
All eyes were on him, one pair in particular, green and curious, and he swallowed hard. “So, it will be good to be joining you for the next few weeks. And if you have any questions, particularly about medications, I’m your man.”
He cast a quick look at Polly to see a frown pleating her eyebrows. She smiled tightly. “Thank you, Dr Jakoby,” she clipped out.
Solo returned an equally tight smile. “Please, feel free to call me Solo.” He cast his gaze around the assembled group. “I don’t tend to stand on formalities.”
Polly’s smile was now like a shot of saccharine. Why did it feel they were in some kind of battle of wills here? It was subtle but the energy was definitely there, pulling against him, like a rip tide.
“Let’s start with sharing how everyone’s week has been,” Polly said, snapping her gaze away from his face, her voice bright, as she fingered a curl behind one ear. “Would anyone like to go first?”
Solo leaned back and put on his best listening face.
Deathly silence. Six heads bent, eyes cast downward, staring at their laps.
Oh God, this was set to be a long hour and a half. Group therapy situations like this were like pulling teeth. Every mental health professional dreaded them.
Finally, Grant cleared his throat and hunkered his elbows onto his knees. “I’ve had a bit of a rough time. Sleep’s been crap. I think my medications have stopped working.” He looked at Solo from under pinned-down brows. “So, doc, any advice would be greatly appreciated.”
Another woman, stockily built with a short buzz cut muttered, “Yeah, same here. Shit dreams. Really vivid, takes me back to the incident. I’m a police officer. Actually, retrenched, as I haven’t been able to get back even on a rehab plan. My GP’s not much good with this stuff and it’s another six weeks before I see my psychiatrist again, so it would be good to have an idea of what to ask the GP for when I see him.”
Relief surged through Solo at being able to do something tangible. “That’s entirely understandable, and getting better sleep is a big part of handling PTSD symptoms. Working with your doctors to get the medication right is paramount. I’m not your treating doctor, of course, so I can’t give individualised advice, but would you guys like an update of the medications currently used to treat PTSD?”
“You bet, doc. I have no idea about my meds, or what the side-effects might be,” an older guy called David said. “But my doctor keeps wanting to increase the dose. I’d like to try something different, to be honest.”
A universal yes came from the group. Except for one black cloud that seemed to be hovering over the curly head of his co-facilitator.
“Sure, I can give a quick run-down,” Solo said.
“Perhaps we should just remind ourselves that this is asupport group, and we are here to sharecopingstrategies,” Polly said crisply.
“Medications are part of my coping strategies,” Grant replied, his chin suddenly jutting a little. “I’d like to hear from Doc Solo here.”
“Yeah, so would I,” David chipped in.
“Perhaps we should ask the rest of the group,” Polly responded. “What does everyone else want?”
