Immune (The Rho Agenda #2)(60)

A hand caressed her cheek from behind, slowly making its way along her throat, the fingers quivering as they moved down along her chest. Heather braced herself against a growing revulsion, accompanied by a vague sense of familiarity, as a new purpose formed in her mind. She needed to see the face connected to that hand.

Shift.

Gasping for breath, Heather struggled to reorient herself. She was lying on a couch. As she looked up, she found herself staring directly into the intense blue eyes of Dr. Gertrude Sigmund.





59


"Schizophrenia!" Gil McFarland sputtered.

"Not our Heather." Anna McFarland shook her head angrily.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Sigmund said. "But your daughter is suffering from an emerging psychosis, probably triggered by the recent traumatic events to which she has been subjected."

For once Gil McFarland was too stunned to respond.

"But you said Schizophrenia," Anna continued. "Heather absolutely does not have a split personality."

Dr. Sigmund put a hand on her arm. "That is a common misconception. Schizophrenia does not imply a split personality. Your daughter is displaying some of the classic symptoms. She is suffering from delusions, hallucinations, and periodic loss of touch with reality. She is both seeing and hearing things that only exist in her head."

"So what does that mean? You said it was caused by her experiences, like post-traumatic stress, right?" Anna asked.

"No. I said that her psychosis was probably triggered by the traumatic events. I'm afraid that this condition is a disease of the mind, a disorder that can be treated but for which there are no cures."

Anna gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

Gil's jaw clenched. "I can't accept that. I want a second opinion."

Dr. Sigmund nodded. "I understand. But you should know that I have already consulted with two of the top psychiatrists in the country, Dr. Edwards and Dr. Mellon from the Henderson House Hospital in California. After reviewing the case file, they are both in agreement with my diagnosis. Nevertheless, I will fully support your desire to get another opinion from a doctor of your choice."

Anna McFarland's knees buckled, and she would have fallen if not for her husband’s strong hands catching her and guiding her into the chair.

Sliding into a chair beside her, Dr. Sigmund leaned forward. "I know this is a shock, but I think it is very important that you hear it. Your daughter needs treatment before her condition worsens, which it certainly will. I have to warn you that right now is the time to act, before she becomes a threat to herself and to others. Her psychotic episodes are increasing in frequency and intensity."

"What kind of treatment do you think she needs?" Gil McFarland asked. "Counseling? Group therapy?"

Dr. Sigmund paused, a sympathetic look on her face. "I'm afraid that in a case such as Heather's, those methods will not suffice, although they may be helpful to you in learning to deal with her condition. She needs to begin a regimen of antipsychotic medication. Normally I would recommend olanzapine, but for Heather I would like to start with risperidone."

When neither Gil nor Anna McFarland spoke, Dr. Sigmund continued.

"It is very important that you listen to me carefully. Schizophrenia is a permanent condition, one that will take a commitment from you both to ensure that your daughter takes her medication and attends all clinical appointments. It is typical for patients to refuse to believe that they are ill. Heather will most likely be in denial.

"Your role is the hardest. It is your responsibility to force her to do what she will resist, even though she may rebel against you. But, for her sake, you two must be strong. You should know that, based upon the severity of the symptoms I have observed, if Heather does not rigorously adhere to her treatment, long-term internment in a psychiatric facility is likely."

Once again, Anna McFarland gasped, this time breaking down into sobs as she buried her face into her husband's shoulder.

Gil McFarland held her tightly then helped her to stand. "Dr. Sigmund. Thank you for your frank assessment. Anna and I will still want to obtain a second opinion. But be assured that if that assessment matches yours, we will do whatever is required to ensure Heather gets the best treatment available."

As they left the psychiatrist's office and passed through the waiting area beyond, Gil McFarland supported his sobbing wife. Glancing down at the love of his life, he wanted to scream. How had it come to this? He was supposed to protect his little wife and family. Now the most joyous creature he had ever known looked as if all the joy had been leached from her world. And as badly as he wanted to believe a second opinion would change things, Gil felt as if the spectral fingers of the banshee had just stroked the back of his neck.

Guiding Anna across the asphalt parking lot, Gil McFarland prayed as never before.

"Dear Lord, please save my little girl."





60


If there was anything stupider and more self-serving on this planet than politicians, Dr. Donald Stephenson couldn’t imagine what it might be. To be pulled away from an important trip to California for an urgent meeting with the president of the United States was the height of folly. He had real work to do. Certainly, the president’s national science advisor could have taken care of the chitchat without bothering him.

He shoved his bag onto the platform that funneled carry-on luggage toward the x-ray screener, removing his laptop, shoes, belt, and watch as he followed the line forward.