Chapter Sixty-Eight
"Lucky needs a break from this place. He needs to see the real world and what he has to look forward to. I think part of his sadness comes from the fact that he's locked up all the time." Tony Jones gripped his coffee cup tightly as he looked down at it. "He's been in GH for two months now," he added. "I want to start taking him out for a few hours on the weekends. First of all, I want to pick him up on Sunday mornings and take him to church and brunch afterwards. We were doing that every week until…" Tony's voice trailed away, and he coughed as his face turned red at the memories of Lucky's breakdown.
Kevin was seated opposite of Tony at his small office conference table. He smiled and cupped his chin with his hand as he leaned forward. "You're a good guardian and uncle, Tony," he said. "Most conferences I have in here involve patients' relatives who are too scared or ashamed or angry to interact with their mentally ill loved ones. I have to try to find creative ways for them to bond. You come to me with suggestions. I like that."
Tony sighed. "I thought you were going to jump down my throat for a second. I kept talking, but you didn't say anything."
"It's called listening, Tony. That's what I'm paid to do," said Kevin as he stood up to refill his coffee.
"Well, what do you think?" asked Tony. "Can I start taking him occasionally on weekends?"
"I believe it's a sound idea," Kevin agreed. "But we need to be careful about when we choose to start this. If he goes with you, and there is an incident, that wouldn't be good for him or for you for that matter. I want this to be successful, an achievement for Lucky. He still isn't expressing himself emotionally in therapy, and that doesn't bode well for his ability to control himself as we progress through abreaction."
Tony looked puzzled. "What's that mean?"
"Abreaction is a term that means reviewing past experiences in a therapeutic way so that a patient can learn from them and heal," explained Kevin. "Lucky is still not able to completely access some potentially important past memories from his earlier childhood. He's experiencing them through nightmares primarily. Today, I'm going to hypnotize him to see if we can learn what caused this trauma. He's not likely to react well to learning the truth, frankly. One of Lucky's most frequently used coping mechanisms is stuffing and hiding his feelings, and he's not going to be able to do that very well after hypnosis. So, you see my concern about allowing Lucky more freedom before he deals with this situation and learns more appropriate coping mechanisms."
"What kind of a timeframe are we talking here?" asked Tony.
"Well, technically, who knows," replied Kevin. "But from my past experience in working with trauma patients, I believe we're going to cross that bridge very soon, perhaps after hypnosis today. He's close to letting out some very difficult feelings. I'd say maybe in a week or two, he'll be ready to leave for short periods of time. And, if that's successful, he might be able to start spending entire weekends away. That's a good goal."
"Why all of this focus on his childhood?" asked Tony. "I thought his major problem was dealing with his recent kidnapping and torture."
"My belief is that Lucky experienced significant trauma in childhood that altered his psyche mentally and his brain physically, so to speak, for defensive, unhealthy patterns of coping that led to his current problems with dissociation. His experiences with the kidnapping reinforced those behaviors and resulted in his current diagnosis of Complex PTSD. If we can root out that early trauma, he'll be able to heal more completely."
Tony shook his head. "It's so damn complicated. Life is hard."
~*~*~*~
Lucky stretched out on the couch in Kevin's office. He was in a heavy hypnotic state. Kevin wasn't surprised at how easy it was to bring him to that state since most persons with dissociative disorders were very easy to hypnotize.
Kevin turned on a tape recorder and began speaking. "Lucky, I want you to go back in time to when you were six years old and living with your parents in Canada. You are in the Triple L diner. Your father is still there, but preparing to leave for a trip. What do you see?"
Lucky frowned lightly and said in a voice that sounded much higher and younger, "They put the sign in the window. It's dark and no one is here in the diner. I'm supposed to be in bed now, but they forgot to check on me, so I'm playing with my firetruck. I'm hiding behind the counter. They can't see me."
"How do you feel?" asked Kevin.
"I'm worried," said the six year old Lucky. "Mommy and Daddy's voices are loud. They're in the kitchen."
"Can you hear what they are saying?" prodded Kevin.
"Some of it," replied Lucky. "Mommy doesn't want Daddy to leave. She says we are finally settled down and now he's going to…I don't understand the word. It's a tan bull?"
"That's fine," encouraged Kevin. "What happened next?"
"Mommy says she doesn't want to be left alone, but Daddy says it's alright Frank doesn't know where we are."
"Lucky, let's go to one week later. What do you see?"
Lucky frowned again and his face looked like it was searching. "I'm in the diner. It's crowded. People are everywhere. Mommy looks tired. I'm helping. I keep the water glasses full. Mommy says I'm her little man. I like that."
"Lucky, it's one week after that. What do you see?"
Lucky's face began to look strained and worried. "We're in the kitchen. Mommy made me a grilled cheese sandwich, but I don't want to eat it. My stomach hurts."
"Why does your stomach hurt?" asked Kevin.
"Mommy is upset all the time, and I don't know what to do," said Lucky in a sad, six-year-old voice. He rubbed his stomach while he talked and tears ran down his cheeks. "She's yelling again. She hates me."
"What is she saying?" asked Kevin.
"No-good Spencers. You're just like your father, you'll never turn out to be anything good. Eat your sandwich or I'll give you something to cry about. Stop being a brat!"
"Ow! Don't hit me, Mommy. I'm sorry." Lucky cringed and protected his head with a raised arm.
"Let's move forward in time," suggested Kevin. "You're in the diner, and it is one week later. What is happening?"
"I'm pouring water and taking the dirty dishes into the kitchen. I'm so tired. My arms hurt. The dishes are heavy. That man is here again. He comes every day now. He makes Mommy smile a lot, but I don't like him."
"Tell me more about the man," stated Kevin.
"He drives a big truck and parks it outside. He takes boxes to people everyday. That's what he does. He likes my mommy. He gives her flowers and candy. But, he doesn't like me. He pushes me away and tells me to get lost." Lucky's voice started to sound strained and anxious. "He is big, bigger than my Daddy. He must be strong from lifting those boxes. His hair is longer than my daddy's, and he has a big tattoo of a ship on his arm." Lucky ran his fingers tentatively over his right forearm. "He puts his hands on my mommy, and I don't like it. He shouldn't do that. I want him to go away."
"Lucky, do you ever see the man anywhere but the diner?" asked Kevin.
"He comes to our house," said Lucky in an angry six-year-old voice. "He shouldn't be there. I told Mommy I would tell Daddy, and she hit me real hard a bunch of times and said if I was smart, I'd keep my mouth shut or else. I need to mind my own business."
"What does the man do when you are in the house?" asked Kevin.
"He eats our food," said Lucky petulantly. "Mommy cooks, and he sits at our table. I can't eat, my stomach hurts. The man is mad, too. He says I'm not grateful. Mommy leaves the kitchen, and he dumps the food on me. He says I'm a little shit and now I look like it."
"What does your Mommy say when she sees the food on you?" asked Kevin.
"She gets mad and says I was clumsy. I can go to bed hungry if I can't eat like a person."
"What do you think while you're in bed?" asked Kevin.
"I want my daddy. I want him to come back so everyone will be happy again. Mommy made me drink some funny tasting milk, and my stomach hurts real bad." Lucky started to cry and rolled back and forth on the couch as he clutched his stomach. "I run to the bathroom and throw up in the toilet. I'm scared. I want my mommy! I walk to Mommy and Daddy's bedroom and open the door. I want my mommy to make me feel better. It 's dark in the room, but there is a candle so I can see. That man is with my mommy in bed. They don't have any clothes on. I'm scared. Mommy is making noises, and the man is on top of her, hurting her. No! Leave my mommy alone! I grab the man's hair and pull hard on it. He gets off of my mommy. His face is so angry, I'm so scared. I've never seen a face like that. He climbs out of the bed and walks toward me. No! I'm sorry. NO! He pushes me into the corner. His...uh...thing is so big and it hops up and down as he pushes me. I won't tell! He's choking me. He says he'll kill me if I tell. I won't tell. Don't hurt me!" Lucky's hands went to his throat, and he made gurgling noises and gasped for air. "I can hear Mommy saying no Jeff, he's only a boy. Leave him alone. The room is spinning. I feel funny. It's getting dark."
Kevin became concerned when Lucky grew very pale and his voice started fading. "Lucky, this isn't happening right now, it's like describing a movie of the past that you're watching. Move forward now one hour later."
"I'm sitting in my closet. The door is locked, and I pull down some clothes to lay on."
"How did you get into the closet?" asked Kevin.
"I don't know. I woke up here. My head hurts and my throat is sore. I want a drink of water. I have to go to the bathroom." Lucky started coughing. "The air is heavy. I don't want to be here. I pretend I'm on the beach, playing in the sand. It doesn't feel so bad anymore."
"Lucky, I want you to move ahead two weeks. It's night. What's happening?"
"I feel so sleepy. Mommy makes me drink the milk every night now. I don't like it. It tastes bad. The man is here again. He sits on my bed and rubs his hand on my arm. I always pretend like I'm asleep. I don't like it when he looks at me. It makes me scared. No, don't touch me. Go away. Go away. He shakes me, so I can't pretend anymore. He's looking at me, and his hand is moving up and down my leg. He asks me if I want to be a big boy like him. I say no, and he laughs. He pulls out his thing and says you need to make it big. He puts my hand on it. I don't like it. No! He says shhh, be quiet. He whispers. Your mother is asleep and will be mad if you wake her. I stay quiet, but it grows so big I don't understand. He says your dick will grow too and he yanks down my pajama bottoms. I cry and say no, and I try to move away but he grabs me and holds tight so I can't move. He's so big and heavy. Think of something you like, something good he says. His hand is on me and I don't want it to be there so I think of the carnival, the time I ate the cotton candy and rode on the roller coaster. It's so fun, there are clowns and funny dogs in outfits and I'm so excited. I'm at the booth and the man takes my quarters and gives me a big gun to shoot at the ducks. I shoot four of them and he gives me a prize and says I'm a winner. It is a big stuffed dog. It's so tall my daddy has to carry it, and he complains the whole time, but I can tell he is proud of me. He acts like he's going to dump it in the trash can, but I know he's only kidding. I'm so happy."
"Okay, Lucky," said Kevin. "I'm going to bring you out of hypnosis now. I'm going to count to three, and when I say three, you'll open your eyes and be awake and remember everything that you told me. One, two, three."
Lucky opened his eyes and sat up quickly. His face looked stunned and tight, and his blue eyes were haunted and strained. A bead of sweat broke out on his forehead, and his hands gripped his stomach. He jumped up from the couch, grabbed Kevin's trash can and leaned over it, heaving endlessly.
.