Much Ado About Jessie Kaplan by Paula Marantz Cohen Page B

something?
    It occurred to Carla, seated in the armchair facing Dr. Samuels, that perhaps she didn’t have the right credentials to be his patient. She didn’t even own a mink coat.
    â€œNone of it seems that important,” she said hesitantly in response to his question about what was bothering her. “I’m probably making too big a deal of it.”
    â€œIf it bothers you, it’s important,” Samuels said encouragingly. “Just jump right in and get your feet wet!” Part of Samuels’s success was that he viewed a visit to him as a kind of recreational opportunity: “How often do you get to talk about yourself for an hour?” he liked to remind his patients. “Even your mother won’t listen to you for an hour—so take advantage and enjoy.”
    â€œI guess I’m feeling overwhelmed,” began Carla, emboldened by Samuels’s encouraging tone. As she spoke, he motioned with his hand, as though directing a car to back up into a vacant space, and she proceeded more rapidly: “Jeffrey, my ten-year-old, has been showing signs of ADHD, and I’m not sure I want to put him on the medicine. It seems like a drastic step. And Stephanie—that’s my twelve-year-old—has a bat mitzvah coming up and is acting very oppositional. Not that she’s not generally oppositional, but lately it’s been more so. And Mark—that’s my husband—is having difficulties at work. He’s a physician, and the state of medicine being what it is—”
    Samuels put up his hand, indicating that he’d heard enough (i.e., the car had made it into the space). It was his operative method to listen for a minute or two and give advice. Most of his
patients appreciated this: “Usually, they make you do all the work,” explained one devotee. “Samuels doesn’t waste your time. He gets the gist and tells you what to do.”
    â€œOkay,” Samuels said now, “I think I’ve got the picture. You’ve got some stress. Stress is normal. The question is: Are you handling it well? And how much of the stress should really involve you? Let’s take a look: First, your son—I’d say, have him come see me. I’ll tell you if he needs to go on the medicine. If he does, it’s not the end of the world. It’ll make life a lot easier for you and he’ll be happier.
    â€œSecond, your daughter—she’s oppositional. Nothing new for a twelve-year-old; it comes with the territory. But you need to lay down certain rules. If she deviates, ground her. It’s amazing what grounding can do to get them into shape at that age.
    â€œThird, your husband—that’s really a matter between himself and his profession. He’ll work it out. He’s a physician; you won’t starve. But I’ll also let you in on a secret: A little self-promotion won’t hurt. Look at me.” He pointed to his book prominently displayed on a side table, and to an array of articles with his byline that had been arranged on a bulletin board near the window.
    Carla nodded. Dr. Samuels, she could see, had a way of sorting things out. She had sensed the value of self-promotion when she first saw Samuels at his bookstore appearance. Now it came home to her that her husband could do some of the same sort of thing—with her help. The idea of grounding Stephanie for bad behavior and of bringing Jeffrey in for a consultation also seemed like reasonable strategies. She felt better already.
    â€œIs that all?” asked Samuels cheerfully, slapping his hands down on the desk as if to imply that this was small potatoes compared to what he normally saw—a reassuring response in itself.
    â€œWell, there’s the issue of the bat mitzvah dress,” added Carla tentatively. She had wondered whether such a trivial point should be raised in a psychiatric session, but decided to plunge ahead.
    â€œNot a trivial