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?”
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”.