Daniel's Dream by Peter Michael Rosenberg Page B

smile. ‘I could manage without the sleeping tablets, yes.’
     
    ‘Good. We’ll keep you on those anti-depressants for a bit longer so that you don’t suffer from complete withdrawal, eh?’ Daniel thought he saw the doctor smirk, but did not respond. ‘Now then, are you still having problems with the fainting?’
     
    Daniel bristled. ‘It only happened that one time, Doctor; I’m sure it was an isolated incident.’ Why did Fischer always have to bring that up? It was a one-off, a feeble swoon across the counter of his local newsagent’s. Nothing to make a fuss about.
     
    ‘Quite possibly. As I think l explained, some of the medication tends to lower the blood pressure a little. Now then, up on your feet. Right, now walk towards me swiftly and then about-turn a hundred and eighty degrees.’
     
    Daniel sighed noisily; he hated these absurd tests, and the way Fischer treated him like a six-year-old.
     
    ‘Come along, Daniel,’ said Fischer, standing slowly. ‘It’s just to check your balance.’
     
    Daniel did as the doctor requested. He could not help but resent all these investigations into his state of health and mind. He knew the doctor was there to help him, but it all seemed somehow invidious, prying where it was not welcome.
     
    And what good did it do? What good did any of it do? Had Fischer cured him of his depression? No. Had he given him hope? Instilled some sort of optimism? No again. What did he honestly hope to achieve? Daniel was no New-Age mystic, but he knew one thing for sure: if you wanted to heal someone, the first thing you had to do was get them on your side, gain their trust, their respect. A patient has to believe the healer is capable of healing. If not, the whole process is a waste of time.
     
    Daniel rose slowly, marched five paces towards the doctor, and turned on the spot.
     
    ‘How was that?’
     
    ‘No problem.’ lied Daniel, his head spinning a little. He knew the antidepressants made him prone to dizziness if he stood up too quickly, but he didn’t want to be taken off them. They could take away the blasted barbiturates that gave him the dreadful hangovers, but the anti-depressants were a godsend on the occasional days when things got tough.
     
    The doctor scribbled erratically on a pad of prescriptions, folded the piece of paper in two and placed it deliberately to one side of the desk. He clasped his elephant-hide hands together, and leant forward.
     
    ‘Daniel, I have to tell you that I’m a bit unhappy about your progress.’ Oh shit, thought Daniel. The pep talk. Must be that time of the month. ’I know you’ve had a nasty experience...’
     
    ‘Nasty?’ Daniel bit his tongue. There were all manner of things he would like to say to the good doctor, but he knew that for the sake of good relations, it was better that he kept quiet. Besides, any misbehaviour would only upset Lisanne, and he had done quite enough of that already.
     
    Fischer paused, seeing the distress on Daniel’s face, and tried a different approach.
     
    ‘Well... perhaps that’s not quite right. But tragedy is an integral part of living, Daniel, and you can’t allow one incident to defeat you this way.’
     
    Daniel shook his head in disbelief. ‘I can”t believe what you just said. Do you have any idea what I went through?’
     
    ‘Well, of course I can’t know exactly-’
     
    ‘That”s right,’ interrupted Daniel sharply, then, with a small sigh, apologised. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured, ‘but you can’t know, Doctor. You just can’t.’
     
    Dr Fischer drew a deep breath and nodded slowly. ‘Yes, well, even if that is the case, I do have some experience in these matters, and despite what you say, you can’t go on like this indefinitely. It’s been... let me see-’
     
    ‘Six months,’ interjected Daniel dryly, and gave a heavy sigh.
     
    The doctor fixed him with a glare. ’Let me tell you something,