Friday, April 13, 2018

Part 7: More Help

Tzviel's mother had spoken in great length to their family doctor and to his therapist. It seemed that despite all the help that Tzviel was getting, the chemical component to his anxiety was still rising.

Tzviel's mother sat him down and said, "Tzviel, your anxiety has been pretty hard for you lately. You've been working so hard for so long to try to control it. There are different kinds of sicknesses. Some of them make us uncomfortable, but they can go away on their own. Like a cold. You sneeze for a bunch of days, feel pretty bad, but afterwards, it goes away. Sometimes that cold doesn't go away and causes a cough. We bring you the humidifier, rub some Vicks on your chest and work a bit harder to get you better. And some times that cough gets into your chest and causes an infection like bronchitis. In that case, we need medication to clear out the infection. You would still need the humidifier and the Vicks to help you get better, but without the medication, your body can't feel well."

"We can go to a special doctor and talk about your anxiety. He can give you a medication that will take your anxiety down, so that you can work on it again and control it better. All of our doctors think it's a good idea and will help you start to enjoy school again and stop your stomach problems. What do you think?"

Tzviel looked into his mother's eyes and simply nodded his head and said, "That sounds like a good idea."

When Tzviel met his psychiatrist, he liked him right away. He spoke softly and asked him all about himself, his family and friends. They spoke about sports and movies and Tzviel felt himself relaxing.

When his psychiatrist finally said, "So, Tzviel, can you tell me why you are here?" Tzviel answered, "I really need help with my anxiety." His psychiatrist said, "Wow, that's a great thing to hear you say. Who should talk to me about your anxiety? You or your mother?" "My mother," Tzviel answered.

While Tzviel's mother started talking about his little sister's heart and about all the hospital stays, Tzviel felt himself feel bad. He started moving his body around, and felt himself sink to the floor and hide under the desk. He ran to the other side of the room, and crouched into a small space between a chair and the wall.

Tzviel's psychiatrist said, "Got it."

(To be continued)

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