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Show 340 . The Quarter Mile "You are not depressed," he is saying in a flat tone. I am incredulous. It is not an easy thing to admit depression but I have probably every reason to be so. I have been confined to this hospital for five months, and counting. This man, a shrink, came referred by Dr. Chappie after I had finally confided my dark thoughts to her. Does he think I am drug-seeking? I am wondering, realizing that he probably does not know just how much I detest medications and then inevitable side-effects, adverse reactions and allergic responses. I am otherwise uncertain just what his motive would be to declare me happy, against all odds. I have, with great fear, shared with him how deeply Dr. Emerson's words had cut me. I have, with great shame, told him how I simply cannot accept Dr. Emerson's explanation, given many days later, that his saying things like that to me seemed to "calm me down" for awhile. Seemed to make me more compliant. He had spoken in terms of "always," as if his saying such things to me was necessitated on a horrifyingly regular basis. This man is making no comment to my sharing. I am wanting to scream, "Does staff get to feel good at the patient's expense?" or "I cannot reconcile my anger and hurt with my religious un- |