A Case of Delusion
I remember walking into the hospital as any other day for treatment of a
patient that suffered from delusions. My daughter had come with me, since she
was working on her doctorate for psychiatry. I thought it would be appropriate
for her to visit along with me.
I had been telling her about the unfortunate case of Mr. Fels, who
thought himself to be a psychiatrist. He was in an incredible state of delusion
and thought he had patients come see him when he was the patient.
The receptionist shook her head at me as I walked in with my daughter by
my side. She must’ve been new and not known who I was. Or it may have been my
accent that took her by surprise.
I didn’t have any time to waste; my patients needed my attention
urgently. I excused myself from my daughter and met with my first patient who
was waiting for me outside my office.
“Good morning, doctor.”
A sigh was let out. “Good morning, shall we get started?”
II
I’m not sure if my father was getting better. All my studies in
psychiatry could not have prepared me for handling the delusions that he was
suffering from. In fact, that is what I was doing my dissertation on:
delusions.
My father was a curious one. He thought himself a psychiatrist. He walked
around as if he were a doctor at the hospital where he received treatment. He
always spoke with an English accent when he treated his “patients” but not in
ordinary conversations with “non-patients”.
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