I wondered about that too, and you are right. It should be psychiatrist not psychologist. I’ll get it fixed. Thanks! :)
Novel Treatments / God Complex Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Rylee had a case file that was as thick as a dictionary under one arm, and a cup of coffee that was leaking, in spite of the lid. The strap of her purse dangled in the crook of her other arm, weighing her down in a way that she could not appreciate. She was grateful that she had chosen black slacks at the last moment, as the hot, wet sensation of spilled coffee was radiating from both legs. She wasn’t normally late. As a rule, she hated tardiness, in herself and especially in others. But she had become distracted when she started pouring over the case file she had brought home Friday night and neglected until that morning.
It wasn’t exactly that it was an unusual profile. Delusionals were a dime a dozen in the psychiatric field. Rylee had seen about a thousand of them since she left med school. There was as slight difference here, however. She was an actual doctor now. She had the degree, a nice if not slightly underpaid position at San Francisco General Hospital. She even had the nice white coat with her name stitched into it in bright red letters. This patient was hers. No one would be standing over her shoulder while she made notes. There would be no committee overseeing her sessions. If she wanted a second opinion she would have to ask for one. Nobody would offer help. Everyone agreed that the time for help was over. It was time for her to use what she had learned, and sink or swim.
As far as the California State Medical Board was concerned. She had learned everything they required of her to be a certified psychotherapist. She was on her own.
Rylee swallowed what had not sloshed out of her styrofoam cup, and tossed it into the trash before making a sidestep into the ladies room to towel off. Then she made a straight line for the elevators, avoiding any eye contact with anybody who might think to note on her slacking. Standing in the elevator she shifted the case file over her arm and opened it up, thumbing through a few pages to where she left off. She frowned with some frustration at the notes written in another doctor’s writing. Her patient’s previous therapist. The writing style was like sanskrit and the prose, when she could make out the words, was confusing at best. She squinted over the few words she thought looked familiar.
....highly-intelligent,no childhood abuse, non-violent/actually quite friendly, does not respond to medications,severe delusions, patient insists that he is the son of god…
Rylee paused on the last part. Patient insists that he is the son of god.
“Oh fabulous.” she muttered to herself, closing the file back and tucking it under her arm. With an irritated sigh she pushed the fifth floor button a second time, wondering just how slow an elevator had to be before she would consider taking the stairs.
When she entered med school she had intended go into emergency medicine. She liked the idea of saving lives in a fast-paced environment. It seemed noble and gratifying. At least that was the way she felt until she did her first ER rotation as a med student. She was burned out and crying after the first week, and dropped emergency medicine before graduation. She hated pediatrics deciding that she preferred dogs to children. OB/Gyn grossed her out, (not to mention the high malpractice insurance), surgery was too complicated, and she didn’t like the idea of a private practice. It was when she did a psyc rotation her last year of med school that she found her calling.
She enjoyed meeting people, even mentally unsound ones. She found that she had a knack for listening, and getting to the root of people’s problems. The attending who oversaw her rotation praised her as being the most empathetic med student he’d ever encountered. After that Rylee focused all her efforts on psychology. She liked it. It was a profession that suited her. A match made in Career Heaven. The elevator eased to a stop, and the doors slid open. Rylee stepped out and looked around with some surprise. It sounded like The Behavioral Services Unit was quiet this morning, which was somewhat unusual. SF General was a come one come all hospital, serving the needs of anybody. There was usually an influx of homeless and elderly, with delusions and/or schizophrenia. Not to mention the almost daily regimen of the suicidal.
Shuffling the bulk in her arms she raised her plastic ID badge to the infra-red scanner and was quickly admitted through the massive reinforced doors that bordered her world from everyone else’s. Rylee looked around with a moderately low feeling. It always felt like it’s was raining in this ward and the feeling was, like everything else, intentional. Warm, comfortable colors were fine for pediatric units, it made you happy and relaxed. The dank greens and stormy gray walls, broken occasionally by tinted Plexiglas windows of this floor, was a reminder to the patients that they hadn’t found their way home. They were not entirely safe yet.
With only twelve beds on the unit: Crisis care had to be intense, brief, effective, and comprehensive. SF General did not normally have any long-term residents. Budget issues usually resulted in the same sort of “treat ‘em and street ‘em” attitude that was rampant downstairs in the ER. There were weekly therapy sessions for regulars, who could rotate between the hospital and the Community Outreach Center. But there were a few. Just two or three who had no insurance, no family and no chance of getting the care they needed anywhere else who were always here. They were bounced around from hospital to hospital, getting treatment for as long as the public funds would allow before they were shipped again. The staff referred to them as “boomerangs”. No matter where you sent them, they always came back for a little while.
Rylee’s first patient was just such a boomerang. Julian Christen was a delusional/and possible schizophrenic and probably would be forever. Although this was his first trip to SF General, his case file noted that he had been treated as close as San Diego and as far away as Massachusetts. He had been in the public system as a permanent patient since he was twelve. He had no living relatives, so there was no one else to care for him. Or at least that had been the case until just recently. Aside from being seemingly impossible to cure, or even treat, he was recently the subject of a public uproar.
Rylee was so lost in thought it was too late before she saw someone rounding the corner. She collided head-on with Dr. Andrew Reynolds, her superior and mentor. Grunting and stumbling backwards, the tall and gangly doctor who was probably around fifty gripped the corner of the wall to keep from tumbling over.
“Oh God, Dr. Reynolds, I’m so sorry!” Rylee said moving forward to help him steady himself. He righted himself with as much dignity as he could muster. Not easy for a man of his height, even with all his proper grammar and the sturdy way he practiced medicine, it was clear that Dr. Reynolds was not always graceful on his feet. Pushing his incredibly sophisticated looking glasses up onto his forehead he smiled.
“In a hurry Rylee?” he said, his low baritone soothing her rattled nerves. Rylee imagined he was a master in the field of therapy, with that gentle tone. It was the sort of voice that would make you want to tell him every deep dark secret you had.
“Yes, I was supposed to meet with my patient twenty minutes ago.” she said looking down at her watch for emphasis.
Dr. Reynold’s eyebrows arched slightly and he nodded, “Ah, yes. The celebrity…” He said turning and motioning for her to follow him down the hallway.
“Celebrity?”
“You did read the case file I gave you?”
“Oh, well…” Guilt and shame mingled into one as Rylee suddenly realized what it must feel like to be reprimanded by a parent. She had no real reference. Thankfully Dr. Reynolds just smiled.
“That’s probably just as well. It’s possible that knowing too much about a patient, and relying too heavily on the opinions of others before meeting them can sometimes lead to some bias.” He continued onward at a pace, that with his long legs might have seemed leisurely, but had Rylee struggling to keep up.
“Julian Christen came to our facility for two reasons.” Dr. Reynolds began, “Number one, we have one of the better publicly funded psychiatric units in California, and number two we have one of the least known psychiatric units in America. As I mentioned, your patient is something of a celebrity.” He turned a corner and stopped in front of the vending machines, reaching into his pocket he pulled out a handful of quarters.
“Can I get you anything?” he said glancing over his shoulder.
“Ah, no.” Rylee said shaking her head, “Thanks.”
He shrugged and got a Coke and a bag of Nacho Chessier Doritos for himself before moving onward toward his office..
“Between a care center in Ohio and a hospital in San Diego, he fell through the cracks and was released from treatment to the outside world.” He popped open the can, took a swig, and turned toward his office door, directing Rylee in front of him. She walked in and sat herself in front of his desk, waiting patiently for him to round the gigantic oak edifice and sit across from her.
“It was during this lapse, when no one who was familiar with him knew where he was, that Julian began wandering across middle America. Preaching about God and religion, and proclaiming himself to be the Son of God.”
Rylee indicated the folder that was now across her lap.
“Yeah that’s what the file said. His previous doctor said he was a delusional.” Dr. Reynolds nodded, and setting the can of Coke on the desk he open the bag of Doritos.
“Well that’s the general understanding, at least among the medical profession. There is a different opinion among his followers.” He said popping a chip in his mouth.
“Followers?”
Dr. Reynolds nodded while he chewed and sat the bag atop a short stack of papers on his desk. Rifling through them he located a stack of newspaper clippings, and passed it over to Rylee. She took the stack from him and rifled through them. Going over headline after headline.
Chicago Sun Times: Hundreds of faithful in Illinois flock to kneel at the feet of a man claiming to be the reincarnated soul of Jesus Christ.
Cleveland Reporter: Woman claims to have had her sight restored after touching the robe of “Reincarnated Savior”
The Houston Examiner: Atheist believes again after meeting man who many are now calling the Son of God reincarnated.
The Salt Lake Tribune: So-called “Reborn Savior” heals outside The Church of the Madeline. Preaches in the shadow of the LDS Temple. Calls for a collaboration of all religions.
The last clipping held her attention more than the others and she found herself scanning the entire article in a matter of seconds:
San Diego Chronicle: Thousands protest, several injured outside psychiatric hospital.
A demonstration outside San Diego Psychiatric Hospital Tuesday soon became violent when opposing sides clashed over the detainment of a man who claims to be the reincarnated soul of Jesus Chirst. Sources say that a man named Julian Christen was taken into custody by SDPD a over a month ago after he caused a riot outside Our Lady of Angels Catholic Church denouncing the parish for listening to the bishop of the diocese who Christen accused of being a false prophet. Doctors say that Christen is a delusional/schizophrenic who believes in his identity very strongly, a belief that has only been perpetuated by his numerous followers. Police have confirmed that at least two-thirds of the demonstrators involved in the hospital riot were his loyal followers and “disciples” who were demonstrating for his release, while the rest of the group were deterrents who came to rebuff the followers for what one described as “lunacy”.
The demonstration which was reserved to picketing and public prostelysing soon turned violent when a yet unidentified assailant threw what police have yet to confirm as a Molotov-type cocktail, into the crowd. The explosion could be heard for twelve blocks. Further police, ambulance and fire crews were called in. At least fifty people were injured and four are reported dead.
“Oh my God…” Rylee said, staring with disbelief at the clipping which now dangling loosely in her hand.
“Precisely.” Dr. Reynolds said, his voice hinting at the irony of her statement. He sat back, his chair leaning. And he regarded her silently.
“Is this even possible?” She whispered holding up the papers.
Dr. Reynolds shrugged. “Delusions and mania are surprisingly contagious. Particularly in this day and age. Do you remember Waco, Texas?” Rylee nodded absently, shuffling the clippings backwards and forwards.
“Do you think he’s doing it on purpose?” she asked suddenly, “The last doctor wrote that Julian isn’t violent or cruel. So perhaps he manipulates because he thinks it is for a greater good?”
“I honestly can’t say. From what I’ve read he doesn’t seem to want people to follow him, but they do anyway.”
“Julian Christen? Is that even his real name?”
“It does seem a little coincidental doesn’t it?” Dr. Reynolds said smirking slightly. Rylee nodded, and flipped open the file again as he moved to retrieve his bag of chips,
“Either way, call him Julian.” he said, looking down into the bag, as if he were searching for just the right chip, “He believes he is Jesus Christ reincarnated, he doesn’t expect to be referred to as Jesus by name. I think that is his conscious mind trying to cling to reality.”
“Oh well that’s a relief.” Rylee said, barely able to contain her sarcasm, then she paused after finding virtually nothing in his file about his childhood. “Where did he come from?”
“There’s no public record of him.” Dr. Reynolds explained, “No social security number, nothing. There is a birth certificate that he was carrying with him, that has been deemed as authentic. But there’s no name. It only lists that a baby boy was born to an Anne Marie Sadler April 15, 1968., in Bethlehem, New York There is no father listed. The birth certificate is on record in San Diego, they’re supposed to send it any day now.”
“Bethlehem?” Rylee said arching and eyebrow.
“I know, I know..” Dr. Reynolds said chuckling, and holding up his hands in resignation.
There was silence for a moment while Rylee’s eyes moved over the clippings, her eyes catching a few words but not really processing them. Finally she moved to return the clippings, but Dr. Reynolds stopped her.
“Keep them as part of your reference materials.”
“I don’t know where to begin.” she said, hopelessly. The air of confidence that had been building, at the thought of her own patient, was deflating fast; leaving her feeling helpless. She dropped the clippings inside the file folder which was now filled beyond capacity, and would need to be held shut.
Dr. Reynolds rose, “Well, you can start by meeting him. I was here for his transfer. He really seems to be a nice enough man. Soft-spoken, gentle. He really is quite consumed by his delusion. You may find your sessions to be something of a calming religious experience.”
“I’m not religious.” Rylee protested, as Dr. Reynolds began shuffling her out the door, in the direction of the detention ward.
Dr. Reynolds raised his hands in a philosophical gesture.
“That is exactly why it must be you who treats him. Do you think I’d put a believer in the same room with this guy? It would be like giving speed to an addict.”
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poetking reviewed Version 2 -
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having read this much of the story , i just loved it! i would like to ask if you have actually finished writing this book? i would love to read it. full marks for this great piece of material
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ethanchrist reviewed Version 2 -
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I really liked your story and I’m very interested to see what happens next and how Rylee confronts Julian. It’s all very well-written and very descriptive. There are a few technical errors that I’m not sure about, though. First, I don’t think that psychotherapists practice in hospitals, maybe some sort of asylum or other containment, but I don’t think it would be an actual hospital. Second, a psychiatrist is the kind of professional that has license to prescribe patients drugs, most pyschologists don’t have this license. If Rylee went to med school, I’d assume she’d be a psychiatrist rather than a psychotherapist. I’m a little unclear on both of these details though, so if you haven’t looked into already I’d double-check, but if you have then disregard those points I’ve made.
streamwalker2001 reviewed Version 2 -
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Good character history
“Rylee looked around with a moderately low feeling” – what’s a “low feeling”? sad? depressed? i’d be a little more specific…
realistic portrayal of a hospital unit… very good…
a “crazy” with followers… wonderful!
great patient character development also… very believable…
no history of Julian – perfect
i’ll tell you what – i want to know what happens… i mean i REALLY want to know… your story is wonderful… it’s realistic, you’ve already built a few “hooks” into it (and i’m totally hooked)
i have no criticisms… only accolades… this is a wonderful piece so far…
thisisnotanexit reviewed Version 1 -
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the idea is good: a sound one, with great potential and great potential saleability. but it is not not uncommon, and soon it will be a creative writing class cliche. you must do this unignorably well, or some other earnest scribbler will tread on your toes, steal your thunder and eat all your porridge. as it stands, your prose is readable, with the occasional flash of polish – passably executed, but no more. i am interested to know what larger-scale effects you may have in mind for the novel as a whole, in that the disciples, demonstrations and denunciation of false prophets alluded to in the newspaper report have echoes of the events of the gospels. if you intend to amplify these parallels and, in effect, to satirise by transposition, then you may be onto something with rich, darkly comic possibilities.
on that note, you are playing it very straight: there is the occasional wry phrase or sardonic coincidence, but no more. what humour there is is very gentle. this is neither innately good nor innately bad, but i think perhaps that the essential absurdity of the situation should be picked out a little more, either in the narrative or the dialogue.
you seem to be aware of your writing to a certain extent, in that you either sidestep certain pitfalls outright or address them explicitly in such a fashion that the reader is reassured that they are in capable hands. ‘julien christen’ seemed to me obvious, and lazy, and unfunny – until the coincidence is raised by rylee and smirked at by reynolds. that suggests you are in control. there are elements, however, which suggest that you are not. you cannot set dialogue, for instance. your grammar is frequently wayward, and many of your sentences have had something rudely amputated from them, such as a main verb, or sense. you have a slight weakness for cliche. but, with attention and a little more investment in your writing, i think this will improve greatly.
your first sentence is fraught with problems. “Rylee had a case file that was as thick as a dictionary under one arm, a cup of coffee that was leaking, in spite of the lid and her purse in the other.” she has her dictionary under one arm and her purse in the other. her coffee leaks in spite of the lid and her purse. what does the purse have to do with it? as a first line, it would repay closer attention. there should not be a comma after degree, but you are missing the word ‘and’. the inadvertent repetition of ‘nice’ is stylistically nasty. in the sentence “Nobody would offer help because she needed to learn”, i would suggest a comma after ‘help’ in order to emphasise the point in the second clause. ‘sloshed’ is, i think, too colloquial.
“Then she made a straight line for the elevators. Avoiding any eye contact with anybody who might think to note on her slacking.” this should be one sentence, with the participle clause separated by a comma after ‘elevators’. a sentence requires a main verb in the indicate voice. your second does not have one, and is grammatically incorrect. i’d lose ‘on’, too. when you say ‘sand script’, do you mean ‘sanskrit’? shouldn’t ‘psyc’ be ‘psych’?
there’s an inadvertent “it’s was” as rylee gets through the door. “Warm, comfortable colors were fine for pediatric units, it made you happy and relaxed.” you cannot join two independent clauses with a comma, as you have here. this is a persistent illiteracy, which you must avoid. “The dank greens, and stormy gray walls broken occasionally by tinted Plexiglas windows of this floor, was a reminder to the patients that they hadn’t found their way home, that they’re not entirely safe yet.” the comma after ‘greens’ is erroneous, ‘was’ should be ‘were’, since it takes as its subject “the dank greens and stormy gray walls”. “they’re not” should be in the past tense.
‘god’, i’m afraid, takes a capital letter. when reynolds appears, he has “incredibly sophisticated looking glasses”. if you must tell the reader this, then you must either expand on this, or make that fact expressive of some facet of his personality, or otherwise temper what sticks out as a gauche, slapdash piece of description. perpetual use of ellipses (...) in prose narrative or dialogue comes across as rather illiterate, too. avoid unless absolutely necessary to achieve a specific effect. your newspaper headlines, however, are good, and convincing. you have captured this shift in register rather well. the newspaper excerpt, though, must be absolutely correct. no sub-editor would let the sentence “And he is not alone” through the net. ‘prostelyzing’ is conventionally spelt ‘proselytising’, although i imagine you’ll still want the ‘z’. “a sort of Moltov-type cocktail” won’t do either. choose one of ‘sort of’ or ‘type’. the man was called molotov, too.
there is, as i say, potential for much good to come of this. your characters are briefly but efficiently introduced and delineated – rylee’s back-story does not slow the pace overly – but reynolds is a little vague, aside from his physical characteristics. but this is engaging stuff. keep writing.
yesandno reviewed Version 1 -
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I think this is an interesting idea. It’s difficult to review for plot or structure because this is the third chapter and I haven’t read the first two, so I’ll leave those alone.
The main thing that stood out to me were your dialog tags. There were so many adverbs and descriptive sentences attached to them. It really interrupts the flow of the dialog, and honestly most of them I skipped over after a while. I’d suggest bunching some dialog together with just “he said” or “she said” or no tag at all, and then having a descriptive paragraph to contain some of the actions and impressions that you currently bundle in with the dialog tags. The dialog itself was good and felt natural.
WishingGirl333 reviewed Version 1 -
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Very well done. There has been quite a bit of depth added to Rylee during this chapter. I like the hints back into her past with the parent comment. Dr. Reynolds was described magnificantly, although I would have liked a longer physical description to really pose him in my mind, because I had an idea but as a reader I would like to know for certain. They many ways you have started to describe Julian is really making me anxious to read about him. He has been built up and up and yet you don’t let us meet him yet, and I really want to. On a whole great job.
Mikkosgirl reviewed Version 1 -
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This is really interesting to read. It comes off as though you have some medical schooling, yourself. Is this true? I know that most of us write from what we know. There are a few grammatical errors, nothing serious, but beyond that, this is really good.
godmanix reviewed Version 1 -
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Wow! This story is really playing out well. The story itself is really fast paced and interesting. The characters are very much three dimensional and believable, as is the dialogue.
I’m not sure as yet just where you are taking this one, but I am definitely along for the ride. I wouldn’t be surprised to see this published as good as it is. Great work!
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