Patient file #216 - Olivia
It was thursday afternoon, and that meant that Olivia had therapy. Which she hated and loved at the same time. She wasn't big on talking - at all, to much of anyone, and so that made therapy difficult, but the doctor and her had come to an arrangement. They would write questions and responses on pieces of papers and pass them back and forth like two kids in the middle of a boring class. The doctor was a tall, skinny white man with salt and pepper hair. He would lean back in his chair, and cross his legs like a woman - long boney fingers would intertwine against his knee and from there he would rock back and forth slightly. He always wore a sweater vest, and a pair of silver framed glasses that would sit on the edge of his hooked nose. Sometimes he would take them off and sit back silently to contemplate a question, or before asking one.
His head would cock to the side and Olivia would watch him, wondering what he was thinking - sitting in complete silence with the hospital swirling around them, muffled by thick walls and a closed door. She would fidget, pick at the tissue in her hand - because undoubtedly she would end up crying no matter what they talked about. Pale face puffy and red with tears, nose running he would smile and offer her a box of tissues - all movement slow and cautious. He had tried to sit next to her their first session and she started to scream, a noise which stopped as soon as he moved away.
He had asked her, if it was okay for him to talk during that first session and she shook her head. She wanted it to be silent, that she didn't want to talk - didn't want him to talk, and he was puzzled - but complied to what she had asked of him. And so this session started out like the last few, both of them sitting at a table - Olivia in baggy scrubs and him in his slacks and sweater vest. There was a note book between them, and she had chosen the black pen - him the blue.
Hello, Olivia - how are you feeling today?
Okay, tired, gray, lonely, my head-hurts it's a little chilly in here
Would you like my sweater? Why are you lonely, I'm here.
I am not lonely now. I was lonely before you got here, No thank you.
Are you lonely because no one is here with you?
Yes. No one comes to visit me, except the nurses and doctors.
Don't you like them?
I like the nurses, they are nice and funny. They bring me magazines sometimes, and let me watch TV.
Don't you like the doctors?
No. I don't like any doctors.
Why not? I'm a doctor, do you like me?
Your a different your the kind of doctor that doesn't touch people. I don't like doctors because they touch me, and make me feel bad. They scare me.
You don't like the doctors touching you, well you know they do it because it's their job, they are trying to find out what's wrong. Why do they scare you?
Not all doctors are good, sometimes they do bad things to people - and hurt them instead of help them. They scare me because I am afraid they are going to hurt me.
Have any doctors here hurt you?
No.
Have doctors hurt you?
Yes.
How did the doctors hurt you, Olivia?
He - I don't know, it was a long time ago. I don't want to think about it.
It must have been scary, and I don't want to scare you, but will you tell me how he hurt you. Did he hit you, or did he touch you?
He didn't hit me.
So he touched you.
Yes, a long time ago. He came into my bedroom and hurt me.
Like the way that the man that hurt you, did?
Yes.
Did you tell your parents about the doctor?
I never told my mom.
What about your dad?
I don't have one.
Why didn't you tell your mom?
Because she wouldn't believe me. She hates me.
How do you know? I don't think any mom's hate their children.
She told me that she hates me.
I bet, that if I told her that you were hurt, she would come and take you home.
No she wouldn't. I don't have have a home.
How do you know she wouldn't come?
Because she didn't come before, why would she come now?
Before what?
Before when I left home.
Why did you leave home?
Because she was going to kill me, and I was scared of her.
Why did she want to kill you? Why were you scared of her?
Because I wanted to leave and get married, because she was drunk and threatening me with a bottle.
You were going to get married? Maybe she was just concered about you.
Yes. I don't care, she use to beat me and smack me around. I don't think she cared.
Tell me more about your mom . . .
[ The next two pages have been lost ]
Will you tell me about your nightmares?
Sometimes I am in the same apartment, the one where he hurt me. Most of the time he does what he did before, touch me and tell me things.
What does he tell you?
I don't want to tell you.
Why not?
It's embrassing. You'll think I am a freak.
Olivia, you know that's not true - I want to help you, to try and get you better and to find the person who did this to you.
He told me he was my daddy.
Do you think he really was?
Yes.
How d [ Ink smeared by moisture]
He told me [illegiable] and that I was sixteen . . .
Olivia that doesn't make you a [ Smeared] Look at me . . . let me sit next to you
I want this to stop! I HATE YOU! I HATE HIM! I HATE HER! HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE! FUCK YOU! GET OUT! GET OUT!
[ The rest of this transcript is illegable due to excess moisture]
He left me alone and I am back in my room. The one that I share with three other people. That session didn't end well, they normally don't, but at least this time they didn't try and sedate me. He's a good man, I think I might love him. I know that's not true but I feel something towards him. He's warm. This place is cold. Even under the blankets, it's not enough. Sometimes I think I should set myself on fire to finally be warm. But the cold is not on the outside, it's on the inside. My heart is cold, and so is my brain. I don't feel human. I feel like a broken toy, empty with lots of holes in my skin. Sometimes, I think, when I am drinking water, that it's all going to leak out of me and get the bed wet. I have become something empty and wrong.
I want my mommy. I want her to come and tell me that it's all gonna be okay because she loves me. I want her to tell me that I'm not a bad girl, that I'm not broken because of what he did to me. I want to tell her that she can't hate me any more, because he did the same thing to me - as he did to her. That I'm not evil.
I don't know what happened to Jason. He hasn't come looking for me. He's not my home any more. He's not going to love me because of what happened, and he won't take me back because I can't work no more. I think about what he made me do. About all those men, and I wonder if any of them loved me. With all the bad things, I don't think that they did, or they could. I don't think that I was anything to them. I hate myself because I did those things. I don't want to have sex again, I don't want them to touch me. It's evil. They are evil. I am evil. Bad . . . Bad wash it all way.
[ The patient has reached the required eight therapy session and has been released to the state, and into foster care. Doctor Bowser has suggested further, follow up treatement - but the state ward assigned to the patient has refused to bring her back. This file will be added to the main, perminate file of one: Olivia. ]