DEAR YOGESHREE
A patient in a hospital for psychiatric disorders simply refused to eat.
"They are trying to poison me. They are trying to kill me through poisoning my food. They want me dead" she would say.
It went on for far too long this no eating. Slowly she was wasting away and yet she refused to eat. No amount of persuasion changed her story. Persistently she stuck to it. She just would not eat.
"They are trying to poison me They want me dead"
The more experienced psychiatrists tried all they knew . But eat.... she would not.
In desperation they sent an intern to her as a sort of last resort. " You see what you can do" they said... "we have tried all we know"
The intern got the same story.
"You are right" he said . They are trying to kill you.... and they DO want you dead. What you have wrong though,.. and I'll tell you the secret.. is this... they are trying to starve you to death !!"
That day she started to eat again.
That story (and I am told that it is true), was so helpful. It made me to understand the reality and the power of faulty belief, fantacy, world view and personal perceptions. It was also helpful because the intern psychiatrist entered into that reality of the client. He became part of her reality, walked with her and helped her from within her reality.
It got me thinking of a number of young persons who have somewhat dramatically lived out their fantacy realities in one way or another. It is often the dramatic incidents that help us to get transferred insight into the quieter, more subtle behaviours that might otherwise go un-noticed.
There was Carlton. Tall, willowy, showy, hair -flicking Carlton Smith.
Can you remember the Helderberg disaster Yogeshree?. The Helderberg was a Boeing aircraft carrying 159 passengers It had an on-board fire that was said to have started in the cargo hold. It crashed into the Indian Ocean.on the 28th November 1987. No one survived. Aboard were 52 South African passengers and 19 South African crew.
On the steps of the quad, right opposite my office, sat Carlton.... where he was unlikely to be missed. The willowy frame bent over, so his hair hung over his eyes. His long fingers spread wide over his face. His back jerked in short sharp sobs.
Carlton was crying again. Tears would come easily to Carton so it wasn't really suprising . Everything seemed to be a drama for him. It was if he play-acted his his way through life, creating the plot, the scene and the persona to fit the hightened dramatic potential of almost any situation.
" What's up Carlton?"
"My sister, my sister, my sister " repeated between sobs. "She went down with the Helderberg."
I wasn't too sure how to respond. My experience of Carlton made me cautious.
" How do you know?"
She was on the Helderberg. She told me she was to catch a plane. I saw her name in the paper.
Now Carlton was close to fainting - sobbing and talking does that.
I called the chaplain. Father snapped into his role immediately. Priestly and compassionate., action followed. Sure enough there were the names of the Helederberg passengers in the Sunday paper of two weeks ago. Among them, Ms H.E. Smith .Calton described his older sister. What she did and what she was like.
Sobs now welled up more than before and he was accompanied to the Christian Care Centre to start the work of dealing with his grief. Beginning with coffee and doughnuts.
About half an hour later I got a call. " I'll take him to Cape Town in my car." It was the chaplain. "We will find his father and sort out his sister's memorial. Will you approve of that.?"
I felt trapped. If I said "Yes" it was a yes to a lot of money what with hotels and transport costs for two for at least a week in Cape Town. If I said "NO" ..... well it just seemed that "NO" was not a choice.
The plan was that they would travel to CapeTown after about a week from our first encounter with his Helderberg loss. During that week Carlton was weak, languid, limp, and alone. He cried most of the time. The other young people and the staff were wonderful. They singled him out for extra doses of care and concern. Carlton for that week became a type of Helderberg hero.... noticed and nurtured.
I saw them off and extracted from the chaplain an undertaking that he would keep me informed freuqently as to how things were going. The mission was to get to Cape Town, make contact with Carlton's father . But especially to meet with the airways authorties and sort out with them the steps to be taken in their programme of consolation for the relatives of the many who had simply disappeared into the sea.
I got the "We arrived safely" call. Then on around the third day I got another call. Gaurded and diplomatic. ... more that was usual, the chaplain held his report back conversation. I guessed that Carkton was in the same room.
" Things turned out a little differently here from what we expected", he said.
"You need to know that we eventually found out about Carlton's father. Unfortunately his dad died three years ago. I found out where he was buried in Cape Town and we visited his grave. That was good 'cause Carlton was able to come to terms with the loss of his father there.. It's made the journey worthwhile' he said.
"And the sister?" I asked.
" The H.E. Smith on the missing passenger list wasn't Carlton's sister. It was someone else."
A pause.... a longish pause...
" Actually, Carlton doesn't have a sister " he said.
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