Free A Note of Madness by Tabitha Suzuma Page A

best. Sometimes when things get in a mess it’s too much to manage alone. Remember when Sophie and I broke up for a while? I didn’t leave the house for a week. And you came over and forced me out for a game of tennis. Getting out of the house did make me feel fractionally better!’
    Flynn pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, sniffing hard. ‘I’m not going out!’
    ‘OK, I can’t make you. But you
are
going to try and tell me what’s going on.’
    ‘Nothing!’
    A small sigh. ‘Flynn, something’s not right, that muchis obvious. You’re in bed all the time, you’re drinking yourself silly, you’ve stopped going to lectures, you won’t talk to anyone. You’ve even stopped
practising
!’ A smile in his voice. ‘What on earth could be bad enough to cause that?’
    ‘I don’t know!’
    ‘Something must have happened.’
    ‘Nothing happened! I just feel crap all the time!’
    ‘Crap as in ill?’
    ‘Yes! I don’t know – just crap!’
    ‘Are you in pain?’
    ‘Yes, no, I dunno.’
    ‘You must know, Flynn.’
    ‘Well I don’t! Stop playing fucking doctors with me!’
    There was silence for a few moments. Rami was looking at him carefully.
    ‘I think you’re depressed, Flynn,’ he said suddenly. ‘It’s not that unusual – a lot of people suffer from depression. It can be biological, or there can be a psychological reason. Either way, there are lots of different kinds of treatment available.’
    ‘There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do!’
    ‘That’s nonsense, Flynn. People get treated for depression all the time. Listen, I’ve got a colleague at Watford General who is very successful in treating patients with depression.’
    ‘I’m not going to see a psychiatrist!’
    ‘Flynn, a psychiatrist is just a doctor who specializesin a certain part of the human anatomy. You’re not well and so you see a doctor. That’s what we’re for, mate.’
    ‘What the hell is a psychiatrist going to do about it?’
    ‘Talk to you first, better than I can, and hopefully you won’t swear at him as much. Then most likely prescribe you anti-depressants.’
    ‘How are pills supposed to help?’
    ‘Clinical depression is due to an imbalance of the chemicals in the brain. Anti-depressants just correct that imbalance.’
    ‘Why can’t
you
prescribe them to me?’
    ‘Because it would be better for you to see this guy first. I’m not a psych. Don’t let’s argue about this, Flynn. I’ll take you to see him tomorrow and if he’s of no help I’ll prescribe you a short course of anti-depressants until I can find someone else.’
    ‘I don’t want to take fucking pills! They’re not going to work!’
    ‘Look, just try them and then we’ll have this discussion. But you have got to stop drinking. Alcohol might make you feel better temporarily, but it’s a depressant. It leaves you feeling ten times worse.’
    ‘So Harry told you I’m an alcoholic?’
    ‘At this rate you will be. You shouldn’t drink with anti-depressants anyway.’
    ‘I never said I was going to take anti-depressants.’
    Rami gave a short, exasperated sigh. ‘You’re going to give them a try, Flynn, because you’re not stupid and you don’t want to feel like this all the time.’
    The faint glimmer of hope that had started to grow within him was suddenly replaced by a knot of fear. ‘What if they don’t work?’
    ‘Then you’ll try a different type, or other treatments such as talking remedies.’
    ‘Therapy? I don’t think so!’ Flynn exclaimed.
    ‘Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.’
    Suddenly drained of all arguments, Flynn fell silent. His mind was reeling. Was this what they called depression: wanting to cry all the time, unable to tolerate doing anything or speaking to anyone? But, as a doctor, Rami was bound to try to find something medically wrong. That was just the way he was. But this wasn’t just a sore throat – how could pills possibly take the pain away?