I turned my head around slowly. “Yes?”
“I’ve been calling your name for several seconds,” she said, looking very worried.
I glanced up at the doctor.
“Let’s get you some fluids and then I think you do need to see Dr. Miles,” he said.
“Who’s Dr. Miles?” I asked.
My mother’s face suddenly appeared old to me. Lines of worry I hadn’t noticed earlier were settled in. I could have sworn she hadn’t had them two weeks ago. “Honey, haven’t you been listening at all?” she asked.
“I’m sorry,” I replied. “I had trouble focusing.”
She picked up one of my hands and said, “I think that’s why you need to see Dr. Miles. She’s a psychiatrist.”
“No! I don’t need a psychiatrist.” I glared at the doctor whose name I didn’t remember. “Can’t you just give me something to help me sleep?”
He cleared his throat, “In your situation, I’d feel much better if you had an appointment with Dr. Miles.”
“My situation!” I yelled angrily. “My husband and child are missing and no one knows if they are alive or dead. It’s not a situation.” I hissed the last word.
“I didn’t mean to be disrespectful Ms. Lyons; I only meant seeing a psychiatrist is nothing to be ashamed of, especially after what you’ve been through.”
The doctor seemed human after all. “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
He waved away my apology, “It’s okay. Dr. Miles is a very good psychiatrist. I honestly think she could help you more than you realize.”
I looked at his kindly face and then noticed again my mother’s extremely worried one. “Okay,” I conceded. “I’ll see Dr. Miles.”
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Sydney Lawrence 