Revelation

         “I had it all planned, you know. I left the squadron compound early. It took me twenty-five minutes to get home. I almost drove my car off the road twice, but I knew the road pretty well, so I knew all the slick spots. The house was quiet when I arrived. I took that as a sign. The neighbor’s dog wasn’t barking, so it seemed to me that the dog thought this was the right thing to do. I had already cleaned the apartment from top to bottom. I couldn’t leave behind a mess for someone else to clean up. So there was nothing left to do but the task I had planned for a year.
         I opened up a bottle of Reisling; the wine was one of the few things that I would miss. I put on my jeans and an old sleeveless sweatshirt. I hung my fatigues in the closet, went out onto the porch, wiped the perfectly piled snow off the wicker chair and sat down. I was tired. I took the razor I’d taken from the shop and cut lengthwise down both my arms.  I didn’t feel much pain but I kinda felt the life flowing out of me. I was dreaming, well I thought I was, I saw a person walking toward me. You wanna know the crazy part? I thought that person was me.”
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         That was her story or at least the part that she wanted me to know. I was assigned her case a month ago. Meeting her was all I could think about. And at the time, I couldn’t explain my obsession with her. I wanted to know why someone so young, with such amazing potential, decided that it was time to die.
          Our first few sessions were battles of will. When she was escorted into my office for the first time, she looked defeated. Her hair, unwashed, hung limply over her eyes. Beneath her open and well-worn hospital gown was a pair of mismatched pajamas. The nurse had removed the robe belt for fear that she might hang herself with it. She stood against the wall gazing downward. Looking at her, I felt a twinge of pity but a wallop of guilt. Captain Lowry also looked down during my sessions with him.
         I didn’t know who would give in first. If she didn’t talk soon, she’d have to be sent stateside. Our first breakthrough came when I asked her whether or not she like all the snow that we were getting. It had snowed continuously for two days.
         “People complain too much about the snow. I like it. It covers everything, And even if you’ve been to a place a thousand times before, the snow buries everything and you’re not sure how deep the snow is. So you try not to walk through it, but sometimes it’s the only path to get where you need to go.”
         She grabbed a chair, dragged it over to the two large windows in my office, and sat down. She moved and she spoke. That was quite an accomplishment for one day.
         By the end of week two, she was more comfortable with me. I had spoken at length with her squadron commander. Colonel Warren had called her an “ outstanding NCO with proven leadership qualities.” It was the usual commander drivel. He hadn’t really provided any insight as to why she would want to kill herself.. However, I did find a conversation starter.
         “Why did you join the Air Force?”, I asked.
         “ It’s the perfect place for people like me.”
         “People like you?”
         “For the most part, no one in the military has to think too much.”
         Denise McMillan, the non thinker. I found that hard to believe. Her mind was no doubt overflowing with unexpressed thoughts. I recalled my conversation with her mother.
         
         “Mrs. McMillan, are you aware of any reason why your daughter would want to kill herself.”
         Between sniffles, she said, “Denise thinks too much. She has to make sense of the world. I told her that it was all a ridiculous waste of time. I can’t understand why such a beautiful girl would want to die.” She cleared her throat and sighed. “The only thing that I can think of is that she simply thinks too much about everything and it’s made her crazy.”
         

         With the end of the third week came more openness and anger. I often confide in patients with the hope that they will open up and trust me. That tactic was a mistake with Denise.
         “I had a patient who was very dear to me. I felt that he trusted me. We had lengthy sessions that were so positive, that I certified him fit for duty. He committed suicide two days after our last session. I have never forgiven myself for not recognizing the signs.”
         Denise sighed quietly and said, “ I’m sorry to hear that you think you need forgiveness. Trying to make sense of his death, are you doctor.?
         “Well, God does work in mysterious ways”, I said.
         “GOD!”
         She was already out of her seat when she screamed at me.
         “There is no god and you’re the one who needs a psychiatrist if you think there is!”
         “What I believe isn’t important. The focus of this session is you. Let’s talk about-”
         “Is Captain Lowry with god?”
         The name wielded as much force as a sledgehammer. She knew his name! I never mentioned his name! I wanted to know how on earth she knew his name. I tried to end the conversation, but she pressed on with another question.
         “Did you do your best to help him?’
         “Denise, this isn’t about me. I’m-”
         “DID YOU DO YOUR BEST TO HELP HIM!”
         “Yes”, I replied, a little shaken by the turn of events.          
         “If there is a god then he’s a cruel son-of-a-bitch for punishing you with guilt when you did your very best. Make sense of that, doctor!”
         “I don’t want to discuss this. It’s important that we get back to you.”
         “Great!, she muttered with sarcasm. “You get to ask all the questions. I don’t have a degree in psychiatry, but here’s my diagnosis. You’re just as screwed up as I am.”
         I replied as calmly as I could. “Sometimes there are no answers. No guarantees in life.”
         She was fighting back the tears now. “I don’t want guarantees. I want to know why anyone would want to live in this world. You’re insane if you want to hang around”
         I moved to console her but decided against it. Maybe now she would listen.
         “For you to take your own life is unthinkable.” She wasn’t looking at me but I waved my hands in the air wildly.
         “This may be all there is to life but I doubt it. There’s so much you haven’t seen or experienced. Not everything is bad. What do you think is under all that snow? Think about how much more there is to see once the snow melts. It may be cliched, but after every winter there is spring. And that brings renewal and rebirth.”
          I don’t think she heard me.
         Sgt. Scott knocked loudly on my office door. I assigned one to one observation of Denise and he was her escort. She had to be watched 24 hours a day. I feared she might try again.
         Denise disliked him intensely and I considered reassigning her a new escort but I didn’t think that she would be any happier with anyone else.
         “Sir I hate to interrupt, but you’re wanted in the conference room.” Sgt. Scott spoke too loudly most of the time. Even through her teary eyed, she shot a cold glance at
Sgt. Scott. He smiled at her and she used every facial muscle to display her contempt for him.
         “We can go down to the BX and you can pick up your weekly supplies before going back to your room, okay?” With that statement, Sgt. Scott was trying to ease the tension.
         She seemed to relax a little. She liked going to the shoppette. There were two things she bought every week: a bag of Hershey’s chocolate and a Newsweek magazine.
         I had listened intently for weeks and now we were about to begin our last session. It had been decided by a panel of doctors that Denise needed more psychiatric than Wiesbaden could offer; so she was going to stateside Before tomorrow’s MedEvac flight, I had one more chance at redemption.
         The taps on Sgt. Scott’s shoes announced their impending arrival so I greeted them at the door. I had to smile. Denise had that disgusted look on her face, as usual. She was not disgusted with me or our sessions together. It was the very thought of being near Sgt. Scott. His presence got her blood boiling.
         “Good morning Denise. How are you today?” I asked.
         “Same as yesterday, only 24 hours older, thanks to you”,  she replied matter-of-factly.
         I looked at her escort. “Thank you. We’ll be through in about 45 minutes.”
         “Sgt. Scott saluted me, slammed the door loudly and disappeared, temporarily at least, from our lives.
         “Do you see why I can’t stand him? He doesn’t have to salute you indoors. I tell him that and he ignores me. Tell him to stop it!”
         She was visibly upset.
         I began to write. Her reaction to him was troubling. She gazed out the window as usual.
         “Look at the way the snow has collected on your ledge. Isn’t it beautiful? No one has touched it. No one can touch it. The bars won’t let them.”
         Steel bars covered all the windows in the mental health ward. They were unsightly, but necessary.

was here’ in urine. As if that desecration guaranteed immortality.” she said so coldly, it gave me chills.
         I wanted to help this person looking at the perfect snow. Why had she tried to commit suicide? Why had she chosen the last day of the month to do it? She knew the landlady checked the meter on the last day of the month. Denise said that she’d forgotten about that but I wondered.
         There was more silence than talking at this session. I was going to miss her.          A thunderous knock at the door startled us both; it was Sgt. Scott again. Denise let out a loud sigh. She shook her head and looked at the ceiling for guidance.
         “Oh, by the way sir, she’s due in physical therapy at 10:30. Should I let them know she’ll be late?”, the always boorish Scott asked.
         My watch read 10:06. “No, that won’t be necessary, I’ll end our session early.”
         Sgt. Scott nodded in understanding and again slammed the door loudly behind him.
         “I don’t understand why he’s not locked up. He’s free to come and go but he’s a danger to the rest of us”, she said.
         “How is he a danger?”, I asked.
         “Have you ever watched him eat or drink? He gets crumbs all over his uniform and he slurps loudly. And when was the last time that uniform saw an iron? He’s obnoxious. No, he’s an obnoxious, immature fool.”
         I had to laugh. “That doesn’t make him a danger to the rest of us, does it?”
         “I think, in military terms, that makes him a clear and present danger. Someone will eventually kill him. That someone will eventually be tried. Just think about it. The trial will be at the taxpayers’ expense, lawyers will clog up the courts with endless appeals when that someone is convicted. Let’s not forget that the publicity-seeking press will hound the military machine and all because one man was allowed to walk around freely, annoying the hell out of people. He’s a danger to the order of our society.”
         We looked at each other and she started to laugh. Was it a joke or wishful thinking? I wondered about that, too.
         “How is the physical therapy going anyhow?”, I asked.
         “Why is the U.S. Air Force spending the time, money and effort to rehabilitate arms that may be slashed open again?”
         “That won’t happen.”, I quickly responded.
         “Remember, if there is a god, I’m pretty sure that you’re not him, Dr. Hyatt.”, she responded just as quickly.
         But she was right about that. The memory of Captain Stephen Lowry’s memorial was ever present to remind me that I was not God. I remembered that God had a luxury that I did not. Time.
         “You know why I joined the Air Force?” she said suddenly.
         “Yes, I do. You told me you thought that the military was the best place for a person like you.”
         She responded, “Well, that isn’t exactly the whole truth. One night, three months ago, I was sitting on the porch and wondering if anything really mattered. I mean, I was doing the best job I could but I wasn’t satisfied. I didn’t know what was happening to me. The one thing that mattered- being a good NCO- didn’t matter anymore and I didn’t know what to do.”
         “And you thought suicide was the answer?”, I asked trying not to sound judgmental.
         “I thought that nothing mattered. What was the point of living? Life seemed so meaningless to me. People were going on with their lives and who’d care if I wasn’t around anyway? It’s not like I had a bunch of friends who’d care. My mother already thinks I’m nuts. I just didn’t care about anything. I tried to kill myself by overdosing with my Elavil. Obviously I survived. A couple of weeks later, I remembered someone telling me that if you slashed your arm downward instead of across, you’d bleed faster and heavier. I was ready to go. I hadn’t been sleeping well and I hated my job. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Sometimes, I imagine myself in the grave. Is it cold? Do you feel anything at all? Crazy, huh?”
         I was stunned. She hadn’t said anything like this before. Our conversations had been open and friendly but nothing like this.
         “Denise, the military isn’t everything. You’re young and intelligent. You have a lot to live for. Don’t you ever think about how good life can be? You have a lifetime of choices to make. Life matters. We’re here for a reason. You have to care about something.”
         She sat quietly for a few minutes.
         “Do you care about me Dr. Hyatt? I mean really care.”
         “I genuinely care. Denise, you’ve helped me more than you’ll ever know. In you, I see all the possibilities. I have also questioned my own intentions. I know that I can’t save the world, but I can help you. You are such a special person and I feel blessed to have met you. I truly want nothing but the best for you because you deserve nothing less. I want to give you something before I forget.”
         I went to my desk and picked up a small piece of paper. I’d written my name, address in Germany, the address of my parents and the respective phone numbers.
         “Here. Call me day or night if you want to talk. Believe me, I’ll listen. Maybe together we can make sense of the world.” I felt tears welling up.
         She took the paper and put it in her robe pocket. Then she started to cry. This time we needed to console each other. We held on to each other as if our lives depended on it.
         The knock came at 10:28. I needed more time but I knew that she had to go. We let go of each other and I moved back to my desk.
         She grabbed a Kleenex off of the desk, then looked directly into my eyes. I wanted her to say something, anything because those few seconds seemed like a lifetime.
         “Glad I could help you Dr. Hyatt.”, she said with a smile.
         All I could do is smile. I felt two lives beginning anew. Somehow I knew she would be all right. She walked to the door.
         “Everyone on the ward says that I should give you a kiss good-bye.”
         “You’re getting a little personal, aren’t you?”, I asked in a very serious tone.
         She laughed sweetly and said, “You’re nuts doctor.”
         She pulled something out of her robe pocket and tossed it gently toward me. The small foil covered chocolate still had its little flag attached.