Goodman No More

I was going through the usually swing of work today when I got a call in my office. It was from my department head, asking if I would analyze a new patient that had just been admitted into the institution. Sighing deeply, I gathered my things and headed to the room where I would meet my patient. When I entered the room, there was a middle aged man in the corner. As I pulled out my clip board to scan over his records, I peeked over my notes and noticed that this man was extremely pale, as if he had been spooked by a ghost.

“They all have fallen to the devil! CAST DOWN YOUR WAYS NOW FAITH!” the pale man screeched randomly in my direction.

“Mr. Goodman?” I said shakily, trying to compose myself. “I’m not Faith, I’m Ms. Vega and I’m here to talk to you today.”

“By the Gods, I can’t go back; the sins of my people are overwhelming. The have condemned themselves to the pits of Hell where they will lift their eyes to the gods and beg for mercy! I relive that horrid night as the days pass on! I rebuke the madness, the pure evil of—“

I stood there in awe as he ranted on and on about his people and the sins they had committed. I was trying to calm him, but when I tried, he threw his chair and flipped the table that he was seated at. I instinctively ran from the room, slamming the door behind me so he could not follow and called security.

“Are you alright Ms. Vega?” the tall guard yelled from down the hall.

“Yes fine, I just need the patient restrained so he does not hurt himself or anyone else.”

“Yes ma’am.” He assured me as he entered the room followed by a second security guard.

I figured that my patient would need time to cool off and settle down after the commotion, so I decided to go to my boss’s office and ask him a few questions. When I entered his office I could already tell he knew what had happened by the expression on his face. We discussed the whole situation and that’s when I found out why he acted the way he did. Mr. Goodman had supposedly witnessed an evil ceremony where his wife was being converted into witch and had fallen into the devil’s hands. He supposedly had been in the ceremony too but resisted this devil; he has been startled by this event ever since.

I returned to the room where Goodman had been placed, and when I entered I saw that they had been fitted in a straitjacket, for his own safety.  

“Mr. Goodman, are you feeling better?”

“Yes, to a degree, but why must I be kept in these conditions? I am not the one who should be detained and locked away! Those devil worshipers back in my village should—“

“This is about you Goodman, not your town.” I interrupted.  “Tell me, do you always get worked up at the thought of your past experiences?”

“That’s absurd! I have been exposed to evil enchantments and you feel as though I am the problem? I cannot even sleep at night because of the ceremony that was performed that night.
Oh my poor Faith, how could she, HOW COULD SHE—“

Goodman was getting more worked up with each word he spoke and it was becoming clear to me what he could have been suffering from.  People who go back and forth between periods of a very good or irritable mood and depression usually suffer from bipolar disorder. Mr. Goodman had no previous records of this disorder so I pondered how he could have developed this issue now.

As I was thinking, I recalled our first encounter, where he mistook me for his wife Faith, and also how he said that he relived the night of his so called trauma day to day. My theory was that whatever had happened to him that night left him with PTSD, or post-traumatic stress disorder. This disorder usually occurs when one is subjected to a very traumatizing experience. Based on Mr. Goodman’s stress levels, anxiety, and temper I had concluded to myself that he suffers from PSTD, and from this he has developed bipolar symptoms.

The entire time of my brain storming Mr. Goodman was still ranting.

“—the devil from that night shall pay for what he has done to me and my people! He will see justice—”

“Mr. Goodman that is enough.” I interrupted, “I believe you, and we will take care of this situation for you. All I ask is that you trust me and everything will be taken care of sir.”

This seemed to calm him because he stopped yelling aimlessly. I jotted my theory down quickly so I wouldn’t forget and called the moving staff to assist Goodman in getting to his room safely. As I left the room I had a good feeling that my boss would enjoy what I had to tell him later on in my board meeting that evening…

A Peculiar Rose

Work was very interesting this past week with all the casework I went through. One particular case was very bizarre. Since I can’t share the real names of the patients we analyze, I’m going to refer to this patient as Emily Rose. Emily was to be discharged from the Southern California Mental Institute but before a patient can be cleared they must be evaluated by “The Board”. The Board is a team of psychologists, including myself, that carefully analyze patients coming in and out of the institution.

Usually I tend to go through the motions of work and remain unattached to cases, but there was something about this one, about Emily, that stuck to me, like glue. She was an elderly woman, a frail soul at that, living in solitude for many decades in a home where only her housekeepers visited. I felt great sorrow for Emily, and now it was my job to either make her stay alone in this institution or send her back home where she had no family. I couldn’t allow myself to get caught up in personal feelings that would get in the way of the heated discussion that awaited me in the board meeting that afternoon.

I looked at the notes that I had jotted down from my personal time with Emily and I remembered how the subject of “death” was heavily on her mind. Emily had been put in this institution because of how she hid dead bodies in her home. If that doesn’t sound crazy enough, there was even evidence that showed she may have poisoned one of the deceased, but it had not been proven at the time. When I was talking to her I watched her responses. She was very soft-spoken, giving me very vague answers, almost as if she couldn’t answer my simple questions. Not only that but I could have sworn I heard whispers, as if she had to self-check herself before and after each response.

After Emily had been analyze and her behaviors were recorded, now all that was left was to debate on the case. I had already came to a conclusion that she still had issues and definitely needed more time in Southern California Institution. We pulled her medical records and the fact that she had been previously diagnosed with schizophrenia didn’t aid her chances. Dr. Winchester suggested that the disease could have led to the fact she lived alone and hid the bodies from her town.

After about a half-hour of discussion my panel finally came to a conclusion, Emily was not ready to go home. Her medical history could have led to her strange behavior and it could be a danger to not only herself, but to the public if we allowed her to leave the facility. Not only that but the fact that she was already very elderly led to the outcome also. Even though I felt that the right decision was made for Ms. Rose I couldn’t help but still feel horrible about the entire case. Did I feel a connection with this woman because I too was once alone, having been adopted into a home? Either way, I plan to visit Emily from now on in her final years. She could really use a friend, and I think that’s one thing she missed out on in her life.