YEAR: 2041
YEAR: 2041-2042
YEAR: 2042
YEAR: 2042
lie to me, but don't lie to yourself --> enzo
Jun 30, 2019 21:06:35 GMT -5
LORENZO DELAROSA likes this
Post by WILLOW AABERG on Jun 30, 2019 21:06:35 GMT -5
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Willow arrived at her office in St. Mungo’s like she always did. Wearing something comfortable, yet professional. She wanted her patients here to feel like they could talk to her. Willow generally was on their side. As a psychologist she wanted to make the best decision for a patient and hopefully clear them from the hospital as soon as they were able, but not because she wanted to open up a bed, or some stupid administrative overhead. She fought tooth and nail to keep people for as long as they actually needed. Healing didn’t just involve healing the wounds and the body, it involved healing the mind. Willow didn’t want to keep people if they could be released and go back to their lives, but she would if they needed to stay here.
Her job kept her interacting with many people who had various psychological needs. Sometimes it was kids, just coping with what had happened to them. Diseases and creatures and magic could be traumatizing, but she hoped to make it easier for them to handle. Sometimes it was adults dealing with their own terminal conditions, that no matter what avenue they attempted to take, magical or muggle, there wasn’t an end in sight. Sometimes it was meeting with their loved ones, so they had a shoulder to cry on, as they say.
Her day had been a mis of the above in the morning, meeting with new patients as the need arose. She took some time to eat lunch, a quick grab salad and sandwich premade in the tea room, and some hot tea to go. Willow needed this time to herself to regroup her own thoughts. Some cases were harder to process than others, especially the kids, especially the kid she saw this morning.
With her quick, nearly pathetic lunch in hand, she apparated a few blocks away to her private office. The morning was spent in the hospital, but the afternoon would be spent with her private clients.
In her office, she reflected on the earlier case. He had reminded her so much of her nephew that it had taken everything in her to not break down and cry herself. It was never Willow’s job to tell parents they were going to lose their child, but it was her job to help pick up the pieces as much as possible. They didn’t want to tell him, not yet, they wanted to make sure every possible medical avenue was taken before giving him the news. As they worked through the decision and talked with the doctor about other possible plans, the desperate attempt to not deal with the truth was evident. Willow let them speak, let the plead, that was part of the process, then she let them settle with the possibility that their desired outcome might not happen. If that was the case, and heaven and earth she hoped any radical treatment would work, but if it didn’t what would their son want to do with his last days? What would they want to do with him their last days?
The experience made her want to curl up in a ball herself and cry. Instead she took out her phone and text her brother, TAJ AABERG a demand: Send me a picture of Rufio, whatever he’s doing right now.” She wouldn’t even know if he was with his son, but she needed to see his face, she needed to see that happy and healthy boy and know that these feelings she was having for someone else’s son wasn’t her darling nephew. She needed to break the transference until she herself could talk with a colleague about the experience and get some help dealing with the sadness.
Death was a part of human life, but the kids were the worst.
After getting an almost instant ding back with Rufio stuffing his face with food, she felt a little of the tension in herself break. It was still there, and there was still work to be done with the family, but it was less than a few moments ago. Her shoulders relaxed, her jaw loosened, and she could feel the places she was holding pressure relieve themselves. Taj would never know what a good human he was, he just always would do what she asked, or in this case, told.
A knock on her door made her pause to put her phone away. “Yes?” she called to hear her assistant tell her it was her two o’clock. “Send them in,” she said while sliding the rest of her salad and sandwich into the empty top drawer of her desk. She grabbed her notebook and moved around the other side of her formal sitting situation to one of the chairs in the room. Her patient could choose another chair or a couch seat, the room only expanding when the family was larger and the need was there. “Enzo, hi,” she greeted holding out her hand to shake if he wanted. “Please take a seat.”
This was Enzo’s first session with her in private practice. She had seen him in the hospital briefly to discuss how he was feeling after his near death experience. To see his name pop-up on her client list was a little surprising, but she was here to help as best she could. “Why don’t we begin with what brings you in today,” she stated, more than questioned. Though she had his pre-counselling questionnaire that detailed the need to be cleared for therapy, she always liked to hear this from the patients themselves. “How have you been doing outside the hospital?”
Her job kept her interacting with many people who had various psychological needs. Sometimes it was kids, just coping with what had happened to them. Diseases and creatures and magic could be traumatizing, but she hoped to make it easier for them to handle. Sometimes it was adults dealing with their own terminal conditions, that no matter what avenue they attempted to take, magical or muggle, there wasn’t an end in sight. Sometimes it was meeting with their loved ones, so they had a shoulder to cry on, as they say.
Her day had been a mis of the above in the morning, meeting with new patients as the need arose. She took some time to eat lunch, a quick grab salad and sandwich premade in the tea room, and some hot tea to go. Willow needed this time to herself to regroup her own thoughts. Some cases were harder to process than others, especially the kids, especially the kid she saw this morning.
With her quick, nearly pathetic lunch in hand, she apparated a few blocks away to her private office. The morning was spent in the hospital, but the afternoon would be spent with her private clients.
In her office, she reflected on the earlier case. He had reminded her so much of her nephew that it had taken everything in her to not break down and cry herself. It was never Willow’s job to tell parents they were going to lose their child, but it was her job to help pick up the pieces as much as possible. They didn’t want to tell him, not yet, they wanted to make sure every possible medical avenue was taken before giving him the news. As they worked through the decision and talked with the doctor about other possible plans, the desperate attempt to not deal with the truth was evident. Willow let them speak, let the plead, that was part of the process, then she let them settle with the possibility that their desired outcome might not happen. If that was the case, and heaven and earth she hoped any radical treatment would work, but if it didn’t what would their son want to do with his last days? What would they want to do with him their last days?
The experience made her want to curl up in a ball herself and cry. Instead she took out her phone and text her brother, TAJ AABERG a demand: Send me a picture of Rufio, whatever he’s doing right now.” She wouldn’t even know if he was with his son, but she needed to see his face, she needed to see that happy and healthy boy and know that these feelings she was having for someone else’s son wasn’t her darling nephew. She needed to break the transference until she herself could talk with a colleague about the experience and get some help dealing with the sadness.
Death was a part of human life, but the kids were the worst.
After getting an almost instant ding back with Rufio stuffing his face with food, she felt a little of the tension in herself break. It was still there, and there was still work to be done with the family, but it was less than a few moments ago. Her shoulders relaxed, her jaw loosened, and she could feel the places she was holding pressure relieve themselves. Taj would never know what a good human he was, he just always would do what she asked, or in this case, told.
A knock on her door made her pause to put her phone away. “Yes?” she called to hear her assistant tell her it was her two o’clock. “Send them in,” she said while sliding the rest of her salad and sandwich into the empty top drawer of her desk. She grabbed her notebook and moved around the other side of her formal sitting situation to one of the chairs in the room. Her patient could choose another chair or a couch seat, the room only expanding when the family was larger and the need was there. “Enzo, hi,” she greeted holding out her hand to shake if he wanted. “Please take a seat.”
This was Enzo’s first session with her in private practice. She had seen him in the hospital briefly to discuss how he was feeling after his near death experience. To see his name pop-up on her client list was a little surprising, but she was here to help as best she could. “Why don’t we begin with what brings you in today,” she stated, more than questioned. Though she had his pre-counselling questionnaire that detailed the need to be cleared for therapy, she always liked to hear this from the patients themselves. “How have you been doing outside the hospital?”
nudge for changes, love!
redd of adoxography
