The Calling | The House of Voices #1

One - Diagnosis

Diagnosis

October:

“I’m sorry, but what?”

“You’re Schiz—”

“I heard what you said.” I snapped irritably before Dr. Larkson could finish. “You’re wrong. I’m not… I don’t have Schizophrenia.” I spat the last word out as if it was something extremely bitter.

Dr. Larkson sighed, pushing her square rimmed glasses back with her pinky finger. “Do you hear strange voices that no one else does?”

“Yes, but—”

“Do you see strange images that no one else seems to see?”

“Sometimes. Just snatches of them, but—”

“Haven’t you been caught having arguments with yourself?”

“Yes, but I’m not talking to my—”

“And you believe these ‘things’ you hear and see are real?”

“Yes.”

“Auditory hallucinations; bizarre delusions; and the inability to differentiate between reality and fantasy…Those are all symptoms shown in people who have been diagnosed with Schizophrenia.” Dr. Larkson replied evenly, tapping her pen against her notebook. “In the three months you’ve been here, October, you have showcased all of these symptoms. It’s the most ob—”

“What about the other symptoms then?” I demanded angrily.

“Pardon me?”

I gritted my teeth. For someone whose career revolved around reading people, she was pretty slow on the uptake. Were the standards in psych school dropping? “There are other symptoms besides those, aren’t there? What about the disorganized speech and the social withdrawal?”

“Well…” She looked thoughtful for a while, frowning as he glanced down at her notebook one more time. “I’m not so certain why you’re not showing those symptoms.” I raised my eyebrow in surprise. Had I finally convinced her that I wasn’t nuts? “Maybe it’s because you’re still in the early stages of the disease.”

My eyebrow dropped down instantly. Damn. I couldn’t catch a break.

“Wait.” I said, remembering something I’d read in one of my old psychology books. “Wouldn’t those have been the first symptoms I experienced?”

Dr. Larkson’s face turned a bright shade of red.

“That’s not the point.” She said firmly, deflecting my question. “The point is that you have been experiencing the symptoms that any normal Schizophrenic would, and we have finally found a diagnosis for you.”

I was inclined to argue that I wasn’t showing the signs of a normal Schizophrenic patient, but didn’t see the point. Dr. Larkson wasn’t going to believe me and I wasn’t going to waste my breath.

 “Which means,” she continued happily, “that we can finally get you started on medication!”

I slumped back into the cushy sofa and crossed my arms over my chest. “Well, whoop-de-doo.”

“Why aren’t you more excited?” She asked, dismayed at my lack of enthusiasm.

“Really Doc?” I snapped. “You just told me that I have Schizophrenia and you expect me to be excited?”

I leapt off the sofa and glared at her furiously. “The only way I’d be less excited about this is if I actually believed it.”

“You don’t think you have Schizophrenia?” I wanted to scream. What had I been arguing with her about for the past half hour?