The Name's Oliver - Ben Oliver. Ch. 159: Duty vs Ethics, Pt. II

[Dextra2]

You're welcome. *feeling very virtuous* I wish they had an angel emoticon here . . . Found it!

This is another hidden emoticon to add to my list! YES!

I aslo think I know who it may be, but I may be wrong.

[Schipperke]

The Long Road Back, Part II

Diary Entry

Footsteps on the stairs.  The door to my room swung open, and my father burst into the room followed by a middle-aged fellow with big glasses and a grey beard.



My father.  We hardly ever saw each other, and I hadn't even known him when I was growing up, but when he walked through the door it was as if a dam had burst.  I had been so cold, so isolated, so uncaring - but when I saw my father's face I promptly burst into tears and couldn't stop sobbing. 



He took me in his arms, murmuring "There, there, Ben.  My poor son - you've been through a lot.  But it's going to be ok.  I promise, you're going to be ok.  Look who has come to meet you."

He introduced me to the man in the hat.  Dr Simgund Freud, formerly of Vienna.  "Now a citizen of the world," he said airily. 

My father said, "Dr Simgund is the Sim world's foremost psychiatric expert.  He's dropped everything to come here and help you, Ben."

Dr Simgund said, "Now that the Treatment Centre is closed, I was glad to come.  So what do you say, young Ben?  Are you willing to let me help you get back on track?"

I wasn't really sure what I was agreeing to, but if my father wanted it, it must be the right thing to do.  I said yes.

"Excellent!" my father exclaimed.  "And, Ben, I brought you back a little present from Dimension H.  I found a little shop that sold Celtic items and look what I found - pajamas in the Oliver tartan!*  I told the saleslady that I just had to have them for my son," he said, handing me a gift-wrapped package.

I changed into my new pajamas immediately.



Dr Simgund told me that intensive psychoanalysis usually involved three sessions a week.  "But you are not the usual sort of Sim, Ben," he said.  "You are a very strong fellow, mentally and physically.  I believe you are capable of more intensive treatment.  We'll work harder and soon - very soon - you will see results.  I propose that we meet twice a day - how does that sound?"

I didn't know what to expect, but I told him I thought I could spare a couple of hours a day away from my cartoon-watching.

He directed the recruits to set up a couch and chair on the top floor of the barracks, and so my therapy began.



"Now, Ben, it is customary for the patient to talk about his childhood," he said.  I pointed out that I hadn't had a childhood, at least not one that I could remember.  "Faugh!" he exclaimed.  "How can you discuss childhood traumas and neuroses with someone who never had a childhood?  Create-a-Sim, indeed!  Putting hard-working psychiatrists out of business.



"Never mind," he said.  "I don't think what's bothering you has anything to do with childhood.  Why don't you just tell me about what happened - why you chose to undergo the change, what it was like for you, and what feelings you have about it all."

And so I told him.  I never thought I would be able to tell anyone the whole story, admit what I was truly feeling, but he was so patient, so accepting, so unobtrusive, that at times I actually forgot he was there.  I talked and talked.

Between therapy sessions, I returned to my room.  My father was always there waiting for me.  He had moved a rocking chair into my room, and he sat with me hour after hour.  If I spoke to him, he would respond, but the rest of the time he seemed content to just be there with me, in companionable silence.



Whenever he left the room, someone else would come to take his place.  Aside from my father, my favourite visitor was Bonehilda.  The therapy sessions left me feeling emotionally drained and Bonehilda was a restful presence - she would talk if I wanted to but never initiated conversation.  Even though she rarely spoke, she seemed to have a sort of telepathic communication because I could always tell when she was thinking of me.



Bonehilda was really the quintessential homebody, and I found her conversation quite entertaining at times - she took such delight in the smallest things.  Like the day she told me about brushing her teeth.



One day Dr Simgund said to me, "So, Ben, I think we've gotten to the heart of what's bothering you - you are ashamed because you feel you have let your father and other people down.  You are angry at yourself for being seduced by evil.  You think you are unworthy - yes?  Is that a fair assessment of what you're feeling?"

It was.  I was humiliated by how easily I had been caught up in my own evil nature.  Knowing that I was not the pure, good person I had always wanted to be, how could I ever trust myself again?  How could anyone trust me, and why should they even want to?  I had let everyone down, most of all my father.



Dr Simgund shook his head.  "Ben, Ben - you are so hard on yourself!" he exclaimed.  "You know it was the potion that caused you to change into the evil creature you so despise.  That's not really what you're like.  But," he said, sighing, "you just can't seem to forgive yourself.  So I suggest we try hypnosis as a way of helping you release these negative feelings."

Hypnosis?  I was very resistant to that idea.  I had seen movies in which people were hypnotized to do things they didn't want to do.  I had a lot of respect for Dr Simgund, but I didn't like the idea of giving up control to someone else.



He rolled his eyes.  "You think what you see in movies is real?!  It's entertainment, that's all.  They portray hypnosis as some mysterious, fearful thing, because it makes a dramatic story.  Hypnosis is a natural state - really a sort of deep relaxation.  Nobody can hypnotize you to do things you don't want to do.  And nobody can hypnotize you against your will.  I believe hypnosis can help you to release the guilt and self-blame you're feeling.  But we won't do it if you don't want to."

I did trust him.  And I wanted to get better.  So I said yes to the hypnosis.  He told me, "Watch the spinning disc," and as he spoke in low, soothing tones, I felt myself relaxing.



It felt as if I was going deeper and deeper.  I ceased to notice outside noises.  My whole attention was focused on his voice.  He told me that I was a good person, that I could forgive myself for what I had done, that I didn't need to carry the guilt around any more.



And then he told me to wake up.  I felt relaxed and invigorated, as if I had just had a nice nap.  He said, "That's enough for today.  I suggest you talk to your father and tell him your feelings of guilt.  I think he would like to know how you've been feeling."



I did talk to my father.  As he sat in his rocking chair beside my bed, I told him that I was sorry for letting him down, for embarrassing him.  He looked at me in astonishment.  "Let me down?  Where on earth did you get that idea?  You haven't embarrassed me!  Ben, you're my boy.  My only son.  I love you and I am proud of you.  Nothing has happened to change that."



I was starting to feel better.  The crushing guilt and depression were lifting.  I stopped going around in my pyjamas all the time.  Some days when I was talking to Dr Simgund, the feeling of being free of guilt was so liberating it was as if I were floating.



Then one day Dr Simgund said, "Ben, I think our work is almost done.  You've done very well.  The next step in your recovery is to get out and be around other people.  I have just the place for you - the Garden Sanitorium, in Hidden Springs.  It's a place where people go for rest and rejuvenation.  I'd like you to go for a week.  Look, here's a picture."



It looked quite idyllic, nestled in the valley with the river and mountains behind.  He was right - it was time for me to get out of my bedroom, and this seemed like a good place to start.  I agreed to go to Hidden Springs. 

Diary Entry Ends.

*Oliver tartan pattern by Gheez.  It can be found here.

[Swirl-Girl]

This guy's good! I hope Ben heals well.

[ladybug53]

So happy to know that Dr. Simgund Freud was able to make Ben see the light and the end of the tunnel . A nice rest in Hidden Spring should do the trick  , or is he going there to rest . Great chapter .

[MarianT]

Something tells me a mystery awaits in Hidden Springs.

[Audren]

Personally, I suspect that ice cream truck is up to no good.

[RainBeau]

I agree with Audren. the ice cream van is highly suspicious.

Ben finds mysteries everywhere he goes! I doubt this 'relaxing holiday' will be an exception. I hope he does at least relax a bit, though. And by the way, I was so right about who the visitor was! But I did not see Simgund coming, so you still managed to surprise me as always, Schipperke. I'm glad Ben is feeling better.

[Magz from Oz]

I love this update.  I suspected Ben's deep anxieties were based on believing he failed his father so his father was the logical person to help him recover.  I hoped we'd see a recall of Dr Simgund.  He's awesome.  So beautifully written Schipp and I love the Oliver tartan pjs!

[Louise56]

I'm glad Ben is feeling better! I also think it won't be a ordinary holiday.

[Schipperke]

The Long Road Back, Part III

Diary Entry

I arrived in Hidden Springs on Sunday afternoon.  The taxi dropped me off in front of the Sanatorium.  I was standing by the front gate enjoying the first fresh air I had experienced in weeks, when a woman with blue-rinsed hair emerged from the Sanatorium building.  She darted a glance to right and left, then tiptoed down the walk in a manner suggesting great stealth and secrecy.  Intrigued, I stood off to the side of the gate and watched as the woman hustled over to the ice cream truck.



"What to have, what to have," she muttered as if overwhelmed by the number of choices available.  "I know!  Give me one of those freezer bunny things."  She received her ice cream, paid for it and began licking it hungrily.  Only then did she turn and start, as she noticed me for the first time.



"Oh!  Who are you?" she asked, seeming quite disconcerted by my presence.  "Oh - I know - you're the new patient they've been expecting - what was the name again?  Oh, my memory!"

There was something rather appealing about this dithery old lady.  I grinned as I introduced myself.

"Ben Oliver!" she exclaimed.  "Yes, I remember now!  Well, Ben Oliver, welcome to the Garden Sanatorium.  You've just met one of your fellow inmates - Caroline Maxwell."



She continued, "Ben Oliver, you strike me as a gentleman and not a rat fink.  You wouldn't betray a lady's confidence, would you?  I know I'll never lose weight eating ice cream, but honestly, a person's just got to have something other than autumn salad once in a while!  Please say you won't tell.  If Sister finds out she'll lecture me, and I hate being lectured."



I promised I wouldn't betray her secret.

"Excellent!" she beamed.  "I can see we're going to get along splendidly.  And now, allow me to introduce you to one of the attractions of this place." 

She led me around the corner of the building to where a small spring emerged from a stand of rocks.  "The fountain of youth!" she told me.  "Drinking from these waters actually makes a person younger - no, don't look like that, it's true!  My dear departed husband was a skeptic like you, Ben Oliver, and always refused to come here with me to take the waters.  He's dead now, died long since of old age.  But I've been coming here every year since I retired, and the result is the vibrant young lady you see before you.  Just don't expect me to tell you my real age!  Now, watch what happens when I drink."  She kneeled in front of the spring and drank.  Suddenly she seemed to sparkle with some inner glow.



"There!  That feels better!" she said.  "You must try it, Ben Oliver.  But only once a day - it's too potent to be used more often.  Not that you need anything to make you more youthful, of course."

I told her I was fortunate that my first friend at the Sanatorium should be such an attractive young lady.  She laughed and pretended to simper.



Then she said, "Oh my - look how dark it's getting.  We'd better go in.  They'll be wondering where you are.  You need to see Sister Mercy and get checked in, and it's almost time for supper.  I find that my ice cream snack has given me quite an appetite - even autumn salad will taste good tonight!"

And we made our way inside.

Diary Entry Ends.

Personally, I suspect that ice cream truck is up to no good.

I agree with Audren. the ice cream van is highly suspicious.

You were both right.  That ice cream truck is obviously intent on the nefarious crime of sabotaging diets! 

[RainBeau]

HA! I knew it. That terrible vehicle of diet destruction!
I like Caroline. But I didn't realise Sanatorium meant . . . this. I thought it was just a spa.

[Swirl-Girl]

Inmate. For whatever reason that seems highly familiar!

[Audren]

Yes, ice cream trucks are obviously evil, though this one is not qutie as nefarious as the one that decides to play Jingle Bells in the middle of May to attract customers. That's downright sinful.

I can't help but wonder about the other innmates, *ahem* patients. I hope they haven't been misbehaving with their diets, too!

[Magz from Oz]

I think the ice cream truck is in cahoots with the sanatorium.  That way the sanatorium has a never ending cycle of 'guests' who can never trim down.  That ice cream truck is evil and so is the sanatorium!  Beware Ben! 

[RaiaDraconis]

Autumn salad every night? A stalker-ish ice cream truck? Hmm...there is something very fishy about the eating arrangements at this place. I do hope that Ben hasn't inadvertently walked into Hotel California.