The Definitive Diagnosis: An Imaginary Session

The man in the chair turned to the question that would put an end to the small talk. To the man on the couch, he enquired, "So, what symptoms have you been having?"

No symptoms.

"None? Why are you here?"

Oh, I don't know. I was bored and wanted to try something new.

"You could have bought a round-trip plane ticket for the cost of this session."

Yeah, I guess you're right. I can still do that, though. I'm loaded.

"You're a wealthy man, you say?"

Yeah, family money. My old man made a killing during the oil boom.

"The oil boom, eh?"

Yeah. Oil boom.

(Silence in the room.)

So, doc. Do I seem to be a guy who has issues?

"What kind of issues?"

Shall I answer your question with another question?

"Are you being intentionally annoying?"

Are you?

"This is your hour, bought and paid for."

Have you ever considered wearing a Houdini hat while you're diagnosing patients?

"No. I take my job very seriously."

You do?

"Of course. Don't you? What do you do for a living?"

I'm a clown.

"Are you always this irreverent?"

I'm deadly serious. I am a clown. I work for circuses, on contract.

"So, there's good money in clowning?"

Not bad. (Pause.) Y'know, I was thinking ... you must come into contact with a lot of nutjobs. I mean, most people who come to see shrinks don't just do it for sport.

"What do you mean by nutjob?"

Good one, doc!

"That wasn't a joke."

I know.

"You just reminded me of that old Smokey Robinson song, 'Tears of a Clown.' Do you remember the last time you cried?"

Very distinctly.

(Silence.)

Do you?

"Yes."

Tears are healing.

"They are."

(Both men take several deep breaths.)

"Well, is there anything I can help you with today?"

I don't know, doc. I do a lot of thinking about people, in general. Why we are the way we are and how we become the people we turn out to be. I'm a lucky man, doc. Some people are born into situations that seem like breeding grounds for poverty and misfortune. You know, disadvantaged. I've never really known serious lack of anything. But some people, you know, it's all they know.

"These are the people who come to see me."

Yeah, that makes sense. Hey doc, did you know all shapes are made up of triangles?

"No."

My kid learned that in geometry class.

"I see. Thanks for sharing that."

I've thought about it often; it makes sense.

(The men looked at each other until the silence became uncomfortable and they both looked away.)

"That’s fascinating, actually. (Pause.) Well, we've got five more minutes."

Doc?

(The two men's eyes met once more.)

Here's what I'd really like to know: Has anyone ever come to you asking for a definitive diagnosis?

"What do you mean?"

Well, wanting to know - once and for all - what is wrong.

"Sure. Everyone who sees me wants that."

And?

"If I were ever to dispense such a thing as a 'definitive diagnosis,' I'd have to be wearing a Houdini hat."

I understand you, doc.

"You can't escape yourself."

Thanks. I'll remember that.