Stacking Stones
Quote from Kaqurei on October 11, 2023, 11:04 am- June 20th, 1992 -
Pinerich City. So named because when it was founded in 1872 as a railroad town, the area had been bristling with evergreens as far as the eye could see. The eye could see none of those now, 120 years later. Instead, there were busy roadways, skyscrapers, people coming, people going, construction sites, coffee shops, and squat grey buildings full of cubicles and blue collar workers as far as the eye could see.
The busy city never sleeps. Just rests, in the witching hours. But even at night, sirens and the music of the city nightlife can be heard. Always moving. Always busy.
Where, in such a city, can one find solace?
For 32 year old Mark Weston, it was Suite A-102 off the Psychology Department wing of the college medical park. That was his office, carefully sculpted in every detail to be a welcoming, comforting safe-zone. The walls were a calming grey-blue, accented by off-white trim and ceiling. There was a large abstract painting that lended the impression of a galaxy of stars on the wall above a plush white sofa. The sofa was adorned with navy blue pillows and a folded crochet blanket. The rug was an alternating gradient of blue, white, and silver—almost an impressionistic art piece itself. Lush and soft.
There were several areas to sit in the room. Right across from the couch was the therapist's chair, and there was no table between them; no obstructions.
There was also a comfortable chair further away, in the corner, between the bookshelf and a large potted fern which both acted as a sort of alcove for it. It was still arranged so that one could comfortably see and interact with the therapist, but at a distance where they might feel safer, if the couch directly across from him was too close and personal.
Then there was the window seat, where one could look out over the college grounds and see the sky, grass, and trees, and the occasional student taking a shortcut to make it to class on time.
The room was comfortably lit largely by natural lighting from skylights and the window. There was also a soft-light lamp set on the end table by the couch, to add additional lighting which would make it easier to see facial expressions and movements. In addition to the lamp, there was a small zen garden with river-polished rocks and small tools handy for the client to use if desired. There was a notebook and pen also situated there, as during his 4 years in practice, Mark had found it was easier for some of his clients to talk if their hands were busy, writing, doodling, or arranging the zen garden. He kept each client's notebook with their confidential documents, in the file cabinet opposite the bookcase.
Today, there was a fresh notebook on the table, if needed. He had a consultation meeting with a woman named Mei Ling Chang at 1:00.
- June 20th, 1992 -
Pinerich City. So named because when it was founded in 1872 as a railroad town, the area had been bristling with evergreens as far as the eye could see. The eye could see none of those now, 120 years later. Instead, there were busy roadways, skyscrapers, people coming, people going, construction sites, coffee shops, and squat grey buildings full of cubicles and blue collar workers as far as the eye could see.
The busy city never sleeps. Just rests, in the witching hours. But even at night, sirens and the music of the city nightlife can be heard. Always moving. Always busy.
Where, in such a city, can one find solace?
For 32 year old Mark Weston, it was Suite A-102 off the Psychology Department wing of the college medical park. That was his office, carefully sculpted in every detail to be a welcoming, comforting safe-zone. The walls were a calming grey-blue, accented by off-white trim and ceiling. There was a large abstract painting that lended the impression of a galaxy of stars on the wall above a plush white sofa. The sofa was adorned with navy blue pillows and a folded crochet blanket. The rug was an alternating gradient of blue, white, and silver—almost an impressionistic art piece itself. Lush and soft.
There were several areas to sit in the room. Right across from the couch was the therapist's chair, and there was no table between them; no obstructions.
There was also a comfortable chair further away, in the corner, between the bookshelf and a large potted fern which both acted as a sort of alcove for it. It was still arranged so that one could comfortably see and interact with the therapist, but at a distance where they might feel safer, if the couch directly across from him was too close and personal.
Then there was the window seat, where one could look out over the college grounds and see the sky, grass, and trees, and the occasional student taking a shortcut to make it to class on time.
The room was comfortably lit largely by natural lighting from skylights and the window. There was also a soft-light lamp set on the end table by the couch, to add additional lighting which would make it easier to see facial expressions and movements. In addition to the lamp, there was a small zen garden with river-polished rocks and small tools handy for the client to use if desired. There was a notebook and pen also situated there, as during his 4 years in practice, Mark had found it was easier for some of his clients to talk if their hands were busy, writing, doodling, or arranging the zen garden. He kept each client's notebook with their confidential documents, in the file cabinet opposite the bookcase.
Today, there was a fresh notebook on the table, if needed. He had a consultation meeting with a woman named Mei Ling Chang at 1:00.
Quote from Deleted user on October 11, 2023, 12:41 pmFootsteps were heard approaching Mark's door, along with a voice that followed them. The words in the distance were hard to make out until they were nearly by his door.
" …we've got a lot of resources here at our facilities, just let us know how we can help. Mark is waiting for you inside," a voice said with a smile.
" Thank you," another voice with a light Chinese accent said.
The women opened the door. " Mark, your one o'clock is here," she told the man sitting in the room.
The woman held the door open as Mei Ling walked in. The Chinese woman was rather short, with black hair that reached just below the shoulders. She was dressed in a blouse and black skirt, her attire appearing as if ready for an interview.
" Just let me know when you're done," the woman said to Mei Ling before leaving. " I will," she replied.
The Chinese woman took a look around the room, her dark brown eyes appearing as if they were analyzing the décor. " You've got a nice place here," she commented with a smile. She then turned to Mark.
" I'm Mei Ling," she said, extending her hand to Mark. " My friend Trisha has told me a lot about you and how you helped her son William."
Footsteps were heard approaching Mark's door, along with a voice that followed them. The words in the distance were hard to make out until they were nearly by his door.
" …we've got a lot of resources here at our facilities, just let us know how we can help. Mark is waiting for you inside," a voice said with a smile.
" Thank you," another voice with a light Chinese accent said.
The women opened the door. " Mark, your one o'clock is here," she told the man sitting in the room.
The woman held the door open as Mei Ling walked in. The Chinese woman was rather short, with black hair that reached just below the shoulders. She was dressed in a blouse and black skirt, her attire appearing as if ready for an interview.
" Just let me know when you're done," the woman said to Mei Ling before leaving. " I will," she replied.
The Chinese woman took a look around the room, her dark brown eyes appearing as if they were analyzing the décor. " You've got a nice place here," she commented with a smile. She then turned to Mark.
" I'm Mei Ling," she said, extending her hand to Mark. " My friend Trisha has told me a lot about you and how you helped her son William."
Quote from Kaqurei on October 11, 2023, 12:42 pm“Good afternoon, Mei Ling,” Mark said, standing and approaching her to shake her hand with a slight bow of the head. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
His smile was warm and polite. “Please, would you care to sit down?” he asked, gesturing into the room so that she could sit where she felt most comfortable.
“Ah, yes; William. I remember him. He was one of my first clients when I started my practice, about two years ago. Good kid. How is he doing these days?”
“Good afternoon, Mei Ling,” Mark said, standing and approaching her to shake her hand with a slight bow of the head. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
His smile was warm and polite. “Please, would you care to sit down?” he asked, gesturing into the room so that she could sit where she felt most comfortable.
“Ah, yes; William. I remember him. He was one of my first clients when I started my practice, about two years ago. Good kid. How is he doing these days?”
Quote from Deleted user on October 11, 2023, 12:42 pm" He's doing very well," Mei Ling said as she took a seat on the couch. " He's finally been able to study better, and is almost about to graduate high school. It's like all his anxiety and insomnia are a thing of the past. Trisha said it was a miracle, she was amazed by his transformation."
Mei Ling paused, her face growing solemn. " I know my son is… a more difficult case, but I could really use some kind of miracle like that right now."
" He's doing very well," Mei Ling said as she took a seat on the couch. " He's finally been able to study better, and is almost about to graduate high school. It's like all his anxiety and insomnia are a thing of the past. Trisha said it was a miracle, she was amazed by his transformation."
Mei Ling paused, her face growing solemn. " I know my son is… a more difficult case, but I could really use some kind of miracle like that right now."
Quote from Kaqurei on October 11, 2023, 12:43 pmMark nodded understandingly. He took his seat across from her. “That’s good to hear,” he said, “About William.” A little shrug of his shoulders. “I must admit, fortunately or unfortunately, I’m no miracle worker. But trust me, it’s better that way. I like to tell my clients I’m kind of like their roadmap. They’re in the driver’s seat. I can show them the routes and offer suggestions on how to get to their destination. They decide what roads to take. They’ve got the wheel. My job is to empower my clients and give them the tools they need to succeed, not fix them.”
He leaned forward and put his hands together. “Tell me a bit about your son. Lee, wasn’t it? I was a bit surprised he didn’t come today.”
Mark nodded understandingly. He took his seat across from her. “That’s good to hear,” he said, “About William.” A little shrug of his shoulders. “I must admit, fortunately or unfortunately, I’m no miracle worker. But trust me, it’s better that way. I like to tell my clients I’m kind of like their roadmap. They’re in the driver’s seat. I can show them the routes and offer suggestions on how to get to their destination. They decide what roads to take. They’ve got the wheel. My job is to empower my clients and give them the tools they need to succeed, not fix them.”
He leaned forward and put his hands together. “Tell me a bit about your son. Lee, wasn’t it? I was a bit surprised he didn’t come today.”
Quote from Deleted user on October 11, 2023, 12:44 pmMei Ling gave a weak smile. " I don't think he'll be coming at all."
" He was in a coma three months ago following an accident with his allergies," she explained. " After coming to, he's been in a catatonic like state since then. The doctors say he doesn't have catatonia, and have concluded his unresponsiveness is just psychological. …They think he's still in shock or depressed. He's finally started talking, only brief words, but he's still mostly unresponsive." Mei Ling exhaled, her countenance heavy now. " I want to know how to help him, but I have no idea what he's thinking to even know what he needs. I know it might be too much to ask, but I was hoping you'd be able to help make sense of what he might be thinking or feeling."
Mei Ling gave a weak smile. " I don't think he'll be coming at all."
" He was in a coma three months ago following an accident with his allergies," she explained. " After coming to, he's been in a catatonic like state since then. The doctors say he doesn't have catatonia, and have concluded his unresponsiveness is just psychological. …They think he's still in shock or depressed. He's finally started talking, only brief words, but he's still mostly unresponsive." Mei Ling exhaled, her countenance heavy now. " I want to know how to help him, but I have no idea what he's thinking to even know what he needs. I know it might be too much to ask, but I was hoping you'd be able to help make sense of what he might be thinking or feeling."
Quote from Kaqurei on October 11, 2023, 12:45 pmMark looked thoughtful, and rubbed his chin. “I see,” he said after a moment. He was debating something behind his eyes—hesitant, perhaps, to offer any advice for treatment on a patient he might not even meet. But then he looked into Mei Ling’s eyes, and his reserve evaporated. He nodded again, this time with some resolution.
“I’d like you to tell me more about Lee here in a moment: what he was like before the accident, and about your relationship with him then as opposed to now. Before we get to that, I can already tell you that his doctors are probably right—it probably is psychological—but I would be hesitant to affix the word just ahead of such a diagnosis. What they’re seeing in Lee, what you’re seeing, sounds to me like a severe trauma response as a result of the accident. Have you ever heard of the term PTSD, or post-traumatic stress disorder?”
Mark looked thoughtful, and rubbed his chin. “I see,” he said after a moment. He was debating something behind his eyes—hesitant, perhaps, to offer any advice for treatment on a patient he might not even meet. But then he looked into Mei Ling’s eyes, and his reserve evaporated. He nodded again, this time with some resolution.
“I’d like you to tell me more about Lee here in a moment: what he was like before the accident, and about your relationship with him then as opposed to now. Before we get to that, I can already tell you that his doctors are probably right—it probably is psychological—but I would be hesitant to affix the word just ahead of such a diagnosis. What they’re seeing in Lee, what you’re seeing, sounds to me like a severe trauma response as a result of the accident. Have you ever heard of the term PTSD, or post-traumatic stress disorder?”
Quote from Deleted user on October 11, 2023, 12:46 pmMei Ling nodded. " Yes, it was mentioned as to why he wasn't wanting to eat anything initially. They told me that anything that could remind him of the coma would be stressful for him for quite some time, possibly even the rest of his life. Is there more to it than that?"
Mei Ling nodded. " Yes, it was mentioned as to why he wasn't wanting to eat anything initially. They told me that anything that could remind him of the coma would be stressful for him for quite some time, possibly even the rest of his life. Is there more to it than that?"
Quote from Kaqurei on October 11, 2023, 12:46 pmMark nodded. "I don't know if you were present during the accident that put Lee into a coma, but I understand it must have been extremely stressful for everyone involved. Any frightening situation in which one is rendered powerless, and especially if they fear for their life or the life of a loved one, or even a stranger in some circumstances, has the potential to cause emotional trauma. Now, in my line of work, mental and emotional injuries are every bit as serious as physical ones. Just because we can't see them doesn't mean they aren't there. Lee is in very real pain, in no way imaginary or self-inflicted. It's important to keep that in mind because his road to true recovery may be very long, and he will need you to be patient with him."
"Our brains are the center of everything we experience, think, feel, or do. When you talk to a friend on the phone, or smell a flower, your brain experiences that as a current event and records a memory. You can recall those memories with various levels of vividness, depending on how important the memory is to you and how much time has elapsed since the event. With a traumatic event, especially in cases like Lee's, in that he is experiencing post-traumatic stress, the brain has not fully processed the event as a memory. As far as Lee's brain is concerned, the event is on-going, representing current imminent danger. His memories of the event may be either vivid or repressed. Sometimes both, with parts of the memory being vivid, and then 'blank spots' that are too painful to even recall right now. He may have nightmares about it. Every time his mind goes back there, he is being transported back to that moment. It's different from the typical memory: it's like he's there again, experiencing it again in real time. He still feels the same fear and stress about the event as if it were still happening to him."
"Lee's unresponsiveness may very well be a defense mechanism. Right now, he's in lockdown. He is unable to process his trauma, so he's just kind of frozen up."
"Treatment is important to fully heal from trauma. But what that treatment looks like depends entirely on Lee and when he decides he's ready for it. It's not something that can be forced. It may help him to talk to someone about it, eventually. But there are steps he can take on his own before that. I had one patient who wasn't able to talk about her experience at all without elapsing into a panic attack. For her, it helped to write about it first, so she could process the event on her own terms, in her own way, in her own time. It took her three months after the event to be ready to start writing about it. It was almost a year before she finished writing about it. And it was only three pages. It was several more months before she could share it with me, and only then could she finally talk about it. Healing takes time, and everyone's time table is different."
Mark nodded. "I don't know if you were present during the accident that put Lee into a coma, but I understand it must have been extremely stressful for everyone involved. Any frightening situation in which one is rendered powerless, and especially if they fear for their life or the life of a loved one, or even a stranger in some circumstances, has the potential to cause emotional trauma. Now, in my line of work, mental and emotional injuries are every bit as serious as physical ones. Just because we can't see them doesn't mean they aren't there. Lee is in very real pain, in no way imaginary or self-inflicted. It's important to keep that in mind because his road to true recovery may be very long, and he will need you to be patient with him."
"Our brains are the center of everything we experience, think, feel, or do. When you talk to a friend on the phone, or smell a flower, your brain experiences that as a current event and records a memory. You can recall those memories with various levels of vividness, depending on how important the memory is to you and how much time has elapsed since the event. With a traumatic event, especially in cases like Lee's, in that he is experiencing post-traumatic stress, the brain has not fully processed the event as a memory. As far as Lee's brain is concerned, the event is on-going, representing current imminent danger. His memories of the event may be either vivid or repressed. Sometimes both, with parts of the memory being vivid, and then 'blank spots' that are too painful to even recall right now. He may have nightmares about it. Every time his mind goes back there, he is being transported back to that moment. It's different from the typical memory: it's like he's there again, experiencing it again in real time. He still feels the same fear and stress about the event as if it were still happening to him."
"Lee's unresponsiveness may very well be a defense mechanism. Right now, he's in lockdown. He is unable to process his trauma, so he's just kind of frozen up."
"Treatment is important to fully heal from trauma. But what that treatment looks like depends entirely on Lee and when he decides he's ready for it. It's not something that can be forced. It may help him to talk to someone about it, eventually. But there are steps he can take on his own before that. I had one patient who wasn't able to talk about her experience at all without elapsing into a panic attack. For her, it helped to write about it first, so she could process the event on her own terms, in her own way, in her own time. It took her three months after the event to be ready to start writing about it. It was almost a year before she finished writing about it. And it was only three pages. It was several more months before she could share it with me, and only then could she finally talk about it. Healing takes time, and everyone's time table is different."
Quote from Deleted user on October 11, 2023, 12:47 pmMei Ling looked worried now. " So you think this will take a while then,” she concluded. She exhaled as her eyes grew distant. " I wasn't there when he had his reaction," she said quietly. She gave a weak defeated smile. " I wish I was, but I wasn't." Tears began to surface as her lip quivered. She swallowed the emotions down and continued.
" He was out with a few of his… so-called ‘friends’ at a restaurant. He had a reaction to the food but didn't use his EpiPen and ended up in anaphylaxis shock. The restaurant staff found him unconscious near the table where his group had been. One of the staff said all his friends took off and they only knew something was wrong from one of the other patrons alerting them about it. The staff called for an ambulance and tried to help him. One of Li's friends had actually brought in his EpiPen before leaving, but nobody knew how to use it, so he wasn't given it till the ambulance arrived. They had to resuscitate him. They rushed him to the nearest hospital. He was in a coma for about a week and a half."
Mei Ling shook her head, wiping away the tears that had gathered in her eyes. She took a deep breath trying to regain some composure.
" He sustained damage to his brain and isn't expected to fully recover. He has memory issues and cognitive delay. He's been having nightmares, and can't seem to sleep some nights. He's always tired. I know he's in a lot of pain, but…" She paused, the emotions becoming too much. She covered her mouth with her hand trying to hold back the tears. After a moment she continued.
" It's hard knowing he'll never be the same. I'm so grateful he survived, but somehow…" She shrugged with a weak smile, as if trying to make light of her next thought, " It still feels like my son died that night."
Mei Ling looked worried now. " So you think this will take a while then,” she concluded. She exhaled as her eyes grew distant. " I wasn't there when he had his reaction," she said quietly. She gave a weak defeated smile. " I wish I was, but I wasn't." Tears began to surface as her lip quivered. She swallowed the emotions down and continued.
" He was out with a few of his… so-called ‘friends’ at a restaurant. He had a reaction to the food but didn't use his EpiPen and ended up in anaphylaxis shock. The restaurant staff found him unconscious near the table where his group had been. One of the staff said all his friends took off and they only knew something was wrong from one of the other patrons alerting them about it. The staff called for an ambulance and tried to help him. One of Li's friends had actually brought in his EpiPen before leaving, but nobody knew how to use it, so he wasn't given it till the ambulance arrived. They had to resuscitate him. They rushed him to the nearest hospital. He was in a coma for about a week and a half."
Mei Ling shook her head, wiping away the tears that had gathered in her eyes. She took a deep breath trying to regain some composure.
" He sustained damage to his brain and isn't expected to fully recover. He has memory issues and cognitive delay. He's been having nightmares, and can't seem to sleep some nights. He's always tired. I know he's in a lot of pain, but…" She paused, the emotions becoming too much. She covered her mouth with her hand trying to hold back the tears. After a moment she continued.
" It's hard knowing he'll never be the same. I'm so grateful he survived, but somehow…" She shrugged with a weak smile, as if trying to make light of her next thought, " It still feels like my son died that night."
