“So where is Waldo, really?”
PATIENT NAME: Doe, John "Waldo"
PATIENT NOTES: (Page 2)
PATIENT NOTES: (Page 2)
Day 15. Since regaining consciousness, the patient only responds to the name “Waldo” and becomes visibly agitated if any other name is used.
Day 17. Patient abhors empty spaces. Exhibits anxiety when alone and gravitates toward large groups, working his way into their midst. Dislikes being center of attention, however. Seems happy to stay invisible and observe.
Day 19. Patient escaped clinic grounds. Four hours passed before local law enforcement located him at a crowded parade on Main Street. Did not struggle when he was brought back in. Seemed quite pleased to be found.
Day 20. Therapy sessions begin. Patient must be restrained. Without restraints, patient attempts to conceal himself in corners or behind decorative plants.
Day 22. Forget about restraints. Patient is cooperative and talkative if allowed to remain behind couch. Patient requested that I conduct the session from under my desk. Asked me why I’m interested in other people’s behavior. Does asking him questions teach me something about myself? I just whacked my head on the keyboard tray for my trouble.
Day 23. Patient recalls he was fond of hide-and-seek games as a child. Claims he has a natural talent for blending in and seeming ordinary. Always played background characters and sang in the chorus in school plays. Asked why I want to stand out so much. Did I think those diplomas hanging behind my desk really mean anything to anyone? Patient is surprisingly astute.
Day 24. No session today. Patient snuck off-grounds again. Was captured at a hamburger-eating contest 50 miles away. How did he get there?
Day 27. Patient spent duration of session pawing through the books on my shelves. Always wished he could write a book, he said. Well, we’ve got that in common. Then, he reconsidered and said he’d rather be a character in one. Characters have more fun than writers, according to him. Right. Asked him if he wasn’t having fun with us. Did he want to escape? He just stared at the clock and chewed on his lip.
Day 28. Had a feeling he would ask about the lack of personal effects in my office. That’s because I stuck them way back in my desk drawer as a pre-emptive measure. I don’t think my personal life is any of his business.
Day 29. No session again. Patient disappeared overnight. By the time he was discovered mingling at Santa-Claus-themed 5K Fun Run, it was after hours. Santa Claus Fun Run? It’s not even winter!
Day 30. We have a breakthrough! Patient caught sight of my camera kit and became agitated. Broke down at the sight of my telephoto lens. Kept repeating, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” as he was carried away.
Day 31. Today’s a holiday, but he doesn’t know that. I want to get to the bottom of his reaction yesterday. Does he finally remember? Can he cope?
Day 34. Now we have it. Full transcript of recorded session below:
“I—I wanted to use my talent for blending in somehow. It’s...it’s really the only thing I’m good at. So after failing at odd jobs here and there, I enlisted. My mom was so proud. She was tired of getting spooked by me everywhere she turned. I don’t even try to be invisible. I just am.
Where was I? Oh...yeah, so I enlisted. Army photojournalist. I wasn’t fit for combat. Wrong mindset. I’d never advance in the ranks. ‘No leadership skills, lack of initiative,’ my commanding officer said at some point. ‘Might as well let him be invisible.’
My unit was stationed in Aleppo. You know that place? Glittering, modern city. Cars, people. Families. Not—not anymore. [Patient begins to cry.] It’s just rubble. Ruins of buildings, the crumbled stone charred from blasts. Deaths every day. No...not deaths. Murders. Massacres.
The lucky ones got out. I don’t know where—Turkey, Iraq, Jordan—there were too many. Mothers and children separated; husbands and wives torn apart. Every day, holding their breath and praying not to see loved ones’ names among the lists of the deceased. [Patient sobs.]
I witnessed terrible things. People did terrible things to stay alive. They had to. And I couldn’t look away. I had to point my lens at them and push down on the shutter, committing these atrocities to memory.
The—the last thing I remember was a blast. It was deafening, so bright and white-hot. There was a child screaming... [Sobs.]
I couldn’t save her in time.”
END NOTES
Did you enjoy my essay? Check out my fellow challengers' essays below. Better yet, join us and write your own!
Challenger Susan
Challenger Elizabeth
No comments:
Post a Comment
Comments on this blog are moderated. Comments containing profanity, lewd content, phishing attempts, and marketing messages will not be approved. Off-tppic comments may be allowed at the discretion of the moderator.