Miracles

This story contains adult language, themes, and mental health treatment based in a purely fictional setting.

Miracles

“We have discovered a cure for schizophrenia,” the doctor with the perfect white coat and perfect white smile announces on TV. Sitting in an obnoxious leather chair behind a gaudy wooden desk, Dr. Sayers (I think that’s right) smiles at the camera and makes a promise no one can keep. Of course, I’ve heard this promise before. Just take this pill, and commit to this therapy, and brew up these special herbs, and dance in a circle under a full moon in a monkey suit and all your problems will disappear. They all promise the same thing: a life without the voices. “Using MRI and advanced neuron trackers,” he continues, “we have isolated a single neural pathway in ninety-nine point eight percent of all schizophrenic patients that, when severed, instantly ablates the patient’s brain of the disease. We insert a microscopic probe into the patient’s brain to the anomalous pathway and cauterize the area severing the pathway. In one hundred percent of the cases where this pathway is successfully identified and severed, the patient has instant abatement of symptoms. Cured, as we like to say.”

“How long after the procedure is the patient aware of the change?” the interviewer asks from across the desk. “Are we talking hours, days, or—”

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” says the doctor as he interrupts the interviewer. What was this doctor’s name? I need to know this idiot’s name! Sayers? “You see, the procedure is performed with local anesthesia while the patient is awake. The transformation is instant and the patient is fully aware from the moment the disconnect is complete,” again with that damn smile. Is he trying to win an award?

“Amazing!” says the interviewer, now flashing his own perfect, practiced smile. “Absolutely amazing! So, for these patients, it’s as if you are preforming a miracle.”

“Yes, that’s the word, isn’t it?”

And there it is. The sales pitch. “We can cure all your ills for the low, low price of…” How many times have I heard these empty promises before? How much time, energy, and mental capacity have I spent praying for relief from this hell? A miracle? Horseshit! Let them play God! Just leave me alone!

Yes, ignore that fool. He needs to leave you alone! We’re so proud of you! You shouldn’t even consider it. Just forget about him. Besides, what would you do without me? I’m here for you, too. You trust me, right? I would never lead you astray!

My voices are my own. They’ve been with me for over six years and I don’t think I could live without them. I know each of them intimately and I’ve even managed to trick them into telling me their names. Of course, they didn’t want to at first. They didn’t trust me not to tell anyone about them. But then I explained I could never trust them unless I knew their names. What else could I have said? I’m sure that’s the lie any other rational person would have said. So they told me, one by one, until I knew them all and could call them my friends. Well, except Ginger. She’s such a bitch! But the rest, yea, they are truly my friends. If I’m being honest, the only time they really bother me is when they all try to talk at once. But I digress. I need to name them out loud so people know who I truly am.

Sophie is so sweet and encouraging. Any time I feel depressed or think I can’t do something, Sophie stands right behind me and whispers in my left ear and tells me I can do anything I want. It’s not that hard, she says. Just try a little harder, Linda. I know you can do it! I’ll be right here, cheering you on! Always!

Julie is my laughing buddy. She sits in front of me or walks beside me and tells me the funniest jokes all the time. It doesn’t matter where we are or what we are doing, she always makes me laugh so hard. What does a penguin rolling down a cliff and a newspaper have in common? I don’t know, I say. They’re both black and white and read all over! Hahahahaha! I tell you, I snorted whiskey out of my nose when she told me that one!

Olivia is my caretaker. Every day she reminds me to take my medicine and eat healthy food. When I brush my teeth, she stands to my right and tells me I haven’t brushed quite long enough or I missed a tooth. When I forget to drink enough water, she yells from across the room that I need to get off my lazy ass and fill up my glass. Even when I’m at a restaurant, she points to the things on the menu she says I need to eat. That’s not what you want. If you eat all that food it’ll make you fat. You don’t want to be fat. Eat a salad. Or better yet just drink some water. Water is good for you and it doesn’t have any calories. Sometimes she won’t let me eat anything for days. You need to lose those five pounds that cheeseburger added two days ago, then you can try again! I know it sounds harsh, but she really is just looking out for me.

I hear other people sometimes but they never stick around long enough to tell me their names. Sometimes they want a favor from me: Please steal those cigarettes for me? I really need them. I’ll owe you one. Other people want revenge on someone who hurt them: See that girl right there? Hit her in the face! She scratched my eye yesterday for no reason! I’m not strong enough. Please, just this one time. For me! And that’s where Ginger steps in.

Ginger has gotten me in so many fights. I try to tell her that I don’t like fighting and we should just leave people alone. But she never listens. She just starts randomly cussing at people before she takes a swing at them. Or, more likely than not, she doesn’t bother giving them a warning at all. She just walks up to a random stranger and punches them in the face because they looked at me funny. I really don’t like it when she does that. I try to stop her. I try to tell her that’s not right and she’s going to get us in trouble. She never listens. Why don’t you mind your own business you stupid, pathetic little puke! I know what I’m doing and nobody gives a fuck what you think anyway! Why don’t you do us all a favor and go crawl in a fucking hole! It’s not like anyone’s going to miss you, you little bitch! God, I can’t stand her!

It’s been three years since I heard of the miracle treatment. Three years and countless new treatments, drugs, and therapy that never seem to quiet the voices. I’ve also had a few more run-ins with the law. Ginger just can't seem to leave people alone and it’s affecting us all. My current therapist, Scott, recommended a new treatment yesterday. He said it was a true miracle cure that would end my suffering and take the voices away. “Oh yea,” I said. “That snobby doctor that claims he can fix anyone by sticking a needle in their head. No thanks. I’ve heard his pitch before. I didn’t believe it then and I damn sure don’t believe it now.”

Scott took me by the hands and smiled that pity smile I’ve seen so many times. “Honestly, it’s worth looking into. I’ve been reading his case studies and he’s not lying about the results. Dr. Sayers has had a one hundred percent cure rate over the past nine years, including the patients treated during clinical trials and all the ones he’s treated since the therapy was approved. If he discovers you have this pathway, he really can make the voices stop.”

I don’t know what to say. How can this even be feasible? It’s impossible to wrap my brain around how I could ever live without Sophie, Julia, and Olivia. But I also can’t keep living with Ginger and the others. What am I supposed to do?

I thanked Scott and told him I need some time to think. I left his office and just wandered in the park. Then Ginger decided for me. One more fight and one more night in jail. I can’s do this anymore. As soon as I am home, I text Scott and ask him for a referral. That asshole had the audacity to contact Dr. Sayers before I said OK. What the hell man? He said he had already requested an appointment and the clinic would be expecting me the next morning at eight. Although it pissed me off that the little jerk just assumed what I would decide, I was also relieved I wouldn’t need to wait long.

The next morning, I arrived fifteen minutes early at an office that looked like the cover of Vanity Fair; perfect chairs, perfect paint, perfect flowers, and a perfect receptionist waiting to take my information. She handed me the required forms, and, with Sophie’s help, I put ink to paper. Have these people never heard of a computer? Don’t complain, says Olivia. You could use the exercise, even if it is only your fingers. Twenty minutes later I found myself lying on a moving bed, devoid of all the metal on my person, and a cage around my head. The MRI technician reconfirmed for the tenth time that I understood the importance of laying perfectly still and not moving my head. My chariot began its single-minded journey into the tunnel of hopeful doom. With foam earplugs in place, the judgment began as a single low humming note. Soon a chorus of unabated sounds entered my soul and began the methodical act of hammering each of my cells into perfect alignment. Suddenly, I had no room to breathe. I’ve got to get out of here! Oh God, this is going to kill me! Just keep your eyes closed, Olivia tells me. I told you not to eat that pizza last night. Now you’re too fat for the machine!

So I lay there, my naked biology laid bare for all to see. This beautifully haunting machine melody erasing all the world except for the screaming voices, and they were coming unhinged! They all began to scream at once that I must stop the noise. Anything, PLEASE! Just make it stop! But I’m so close to my reckoning. Just a breath longer and I’ll know if I can be cured and finally rest.

The remorseless song eventually eased and transmitted its verdict. The low hum returned and, somewhere, a tiny wire began broadcasting my destiny to a savior I’ve never actually met. How cruel is it that he will know my fate before me? All I can do is dress, retrieve my metal belongings, and wait for the inevitable. To be sane or not to be sane, that is now my question.

An hour later, I was sitting in a chair looking over that same gaudy desk at a man in that same obnoxious chair with that same perfect smile. Dr. Sayers looks up at me from his computer and said what I prayed for yet dreaded to hear. “I’ve reviewed your MRI results, and I can say without hesitation that you are a perfect candidate for this procedure.” The earth drops away from my feet. You can do this, says Sophie. You know you’re strong and can do this life on your own! Yes, Julie says, you can do this! And if it doesn’t work, we can find a zombie and offer him scrambled brains for dinner! It’s a win-win! Oh, shut up you fucks! Nobody wants to hear all your kumbaya shit! And there she is. My stomach begins to turn thinking of losing my voices. All except Ginger. I can’t wait until I banish that bitch forever!

“I only have one question I need to ask you. Why do you want this procedure? Specifically, what do you hope to accomplish,” Dr. Sayers asks still flashing that perfect smile.

“I have dreams, things I want to do with my life. I want to be my own person, but I can't do that with these voices ruining me all the time. Basically, I want a chance to fulfill my voiceless dreams and live a normal life.”

“Then I have very good news for you. We can schedule you for one-thirty this afternoon, if you’d like. When the procedure is complete, you will never need to worry about those voices, psychiatric medications, or treatment therapy again.”

Today! So soon? I’m not ready for this. My hands start to shake and I feel a bead of cold sweat on my forehead. How am I supposed to prepare for this change, this eradication of part of my soul, in just a few hours? I don’t know what to do! It’s ok Linda. This can’t go on forever. We’ll miss you, but it’s better to do it now than think about it. Fuck you, Linda! Today or nothing!

So here I am, sitting in a chair, and waiting for the crash. The room is cold and utilitarian, so white I can taste the sterility. The doctor stands behind me with a needle ready to prick my skin and quiet my storm. The metal probe pierces my brain. “Almost there. We are about to reach the area of the anomaly. There it is. OK, Ms. Harbic, here we go.”

Finally, after all these years! What will my life be like? How will I survive without my voices to help me? I know I will be so lonely. But I am ready. Any moment now and I will be free! Wait, what… What are you doing? No! Stop! NOOOO…

“And we are done. Ms. Harbic, how do you feel?” Dr. Sayers asks.

“Never been fucking better! I’m glad to finally get all those whiny bitches outta my head, especially that goody two shoes Linda. I was tired of all her whining holding me back from everything. While you’re at it, stop with that ‘Ms. Harbic’ bullshit. Just call me Ginger. Now, why don’t you get that metal rod outta my brain so I can beat the shit outta someone.”

“Ms. Harbic, Ginger, the process can be quite disorienting. Please allow yourself a few minutes to adjust. You now have your whole life to fulfill your voiceless dreams,” Dr. Sayers says.

“Voiceless dreams? What the hell are you talking about? I’m about to take over the fucking world.”

It takes Dr. Sayers a blink too long to compose himself. “Ginger, this process was meant to calm your aggressions and relieve you of your mental burdens. Our interview showed you were a perfect candidate for this procedure. I do not understand why you’re so agressi— “

“Because you just unleashed this bitch on the world, you little prick. Now that I don’t have those little titty babies holding me back, there’s no telling what I will do!”

“But the interview went so well. How could this happen?” exclaimed Dr. Sayers.

“Well,” growls Ginger, “I guess you killed off the wrong bitches. Now the world is stuck with me. I guess we can’t expect all miracles to be perfect, now can we?”