But he said, in the kindest, most patient voice possible, “Islamophobia is a multifactorial phenomenon. We will have to talk about what stresses in your life, or possible unresolved issues from your earlier life, could be making you think that people are shooting rockets at you in the middle of the night. Meanwhile…”
I peered. He was typing diligently into his terminal.
“…I will want you to take these, twice a day. Once in the morning, once in the evening. Before meals.”
It printed out, and he handed me the page with an almost paternal smile.
I took it and—as if, in my emotional state, I had the slightest ability to make out what it said—gazed at it.
“And if, for the time being, the delusions keep returning,” I heard him say, “I want you to feel free to call me. At any time. Even in the middle of the night.”
Now I looked up at him, genuinely impressed.
“Well,” he smiled dismissively, “I might be awake at those hours, too.”
Pages: 1 2