Raising the Dead

Like most other health professionals, I feel it is most unwise - if not downright unethical - to treat one's own family, friends or loved ones if there are other professionals available who can, with your involvement and co-operation, deliver the primary care.

In less fancy language, I have scruples about giving pschological counselling to a woman I've just fucked and who has just cooked me the best breakfast I've had in years!

One thing I was certain of, however, was that this woman needed validation and she needed it from the only other person around - me.

I took Pam's hand and somehow managed to establish meaningful eye-contact.

"That is probably the saddest life-story I have ever heard" I told her. "I'm not going to pretend that I understand all that you've been through - only you know that - but I want you to know that I feel all your hurts and injustices very, very deeply."

"I also want you to know that I think you are a very brave and courageous person and I admire the way you have established a life for yourself in the face of so many hardships."

"I'm guessing you've never told your life story to anyone before today. Yes?"

"Yes" she said. "It has always seemed best, easier perhaps, to tell no-one anything of my past. God knows I don't want to think or talk about it and I'm terrified people will think less of me, despise me, pity me or turn my life into juicy, malicious gossip"

"Some people would probably do all of those things" I told her. "It's not necessarily malice on their part - it's ignorance or prejudice or just simple fear of something they can't begin to comprehend."

"You've got lots of options as we sit here right now, Pam."

"You can ask me to forget we ever spoke and I promise you no-one will ever hear a thing from me."

"We can agree to pretend that last night never happened and, should any of our friends dare to ask, we can say we got on well, but only as friends, and that I crashed on your sofa for the night."

"Or, and I hope you'll agree to this, we might feel that you could do with a little help and I'm happy to recommend someone who I just know would be of great help to you."

"Why not you?" she asked. "Why can't you be my psychologist?"

"Not" she added "that I'm conceding that I need any help anyway. I'm doing OK and I couldn't face having to tell my story all over again to a complete stranger."

"Okay" I said. "Let's put everything on the back burner for a moment or two but, before we do that, can I ask you just a few questions?"

Just a nod. I squeezed her hand a little tighter.

"What do you do for fun?" Pam. "What do you look forward to doing tomorrow or next week or next year? Is there anything you'd like to do or be?"

"Too late" she said. "I want to be normal. I try to act normal but I know I'm not. I just try to be what I think everyone else expects me to be."

"Trust me, Pam, we are, all of us, scarred by life in one way or another. Some scars cut deeper than others Some are visible but most leave no outward sign at all. We all have our secrets and we are, all of us, in some way imperfect. I wouldn't have it any other way. It would be a bloody boring world and ... well, I'd be out of a job!"

She laughed. A good sign. Then she asked me to tell her a bit more about my kids and my life with Jennifer. Having heard me talk about most of the high spots and some of the low spots too, she asked me if I'd ever been unfaithful to my wife.

"Just once" I said. "It was in the very early days of our marriage. I had to go interstate for a night or two in order to be Best Man at my best friend's wedding. And, since we're more or less exchanging confidences here, you might as well know it was my best friend with whom I was unfaithful."

"You're gay?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Not essentially" I said. "But I've always been a very sensual person and there was a time before I fell in love with Jennifer when I truly believed I was gay. That was before I'd even heard the phrase bisexual and long before I appreciated how many shades of grey sexuality has."

"And since Jennifer died" she asked.

"No guys. And precious few women too. Single Dads have to juggle a lot of priorities and sex never made its way to the top of the list. Now that the kids are older, sex is gradually working its way to the top of the list again, but it's not yet a burning issue."

As I prepared to leave, I asked Pam if she'd ever been out kayaking. The answer was "No" and I said: "Well, you and I are going kayaking next weekend and afterwards you're coming back to my place for some of my truly eye-watering chilli con carne. You'll meet my appalling two youngest children, maybe they'll condescend to play Scrabble with us, and then you'll go home with aching arms and a fire in your belly and you'll fall asleep feeling 'normal'. Deal?"

"Yes" she said and went to answer the telephone. I watched and listened. It was obviously one of our mutual friends and I had to admire the way Pam told her that "He seems a really nice Guy ... We talked for hours ... He fell asleep on the couch ... just good friends" etc.

So we'd obviously agreed on our story and I was happy to go along with it.

Before I left I said: "Just one thing. I'm assuming you had yourself checked out when Paul was sick."

"Yes" she said. "It was so humiliating. He'd hardly come near me for a long time anyway and it was all clear. I didn't really want anyone to know what he died from - it just says acute pneumonia and something about his immune system on the Death Certificate."

Inwardly, I breathed a sigh of relief. Who'd have expected a flirtation with AIDS when bedding a respectable, up-tight widow? As I said before, sex comes in so many shades of grey!

With a chaste kiss, an "I'll call you during the week" and a wave, I was off home to two hungry, bickering children.

That afternoon I went for a run and then hit the gym with a vengeance. My stomach muscles are far less painful now and I'll never attempt too much, too soon again. Well, not until the next temptation comes along!

I noticed a guy checking me out in the showers after I'd done my laps in the gym pool. I winked at him then dressed and headed home. Maybe grey is my favourite colour!

Comments

Still lots to learn here about the way this lady has shut down, and still winking at the guys, I see...
 

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