Although I couldn’t see her eyes, hidden behind the dark sunglasses, Doctor Phaer was one stunning lady… Maybe that’s why I paid attention to her soothing voice…
Otherwise, she was no different from the psychiatrists, psychologists, doctors, gurus, quacks and charlatans I met over the years in my quest for help and relief. Or was she?
I was desperate. Imagine this: you are living your life, a normal functioning adult, healthy and happy, with a career and a family… and then you start having trouble sleeping. You’re sleeping a little less all the time, taking progressively more meds to help. After maybe a year, you literally cannot sleep. At all. Not a wink aside from confusing snatches of semi-consciousness. Sleep aids don’t help anymore, but only increase the misery. The lack of sleep is killing you. You are becoming infinitely tired, and your entire body and mind are suffering exponential fatigue. And it’s getting worse… They labelled my condition as an extremely rare genetic disorder where the ability to sleep disintegrates over time.
Doctor Phaer listened even more attentively as I told her that I’d do anything for a week of good sleep.
“Anything?” her red painted lips whispered seductively, while I frantically nodded my answer.
I didn’t read the disclaimer form she pushed towards me. I only grabbed her gold pen and signed my name in red ink. I didn’t take any notice of the sting in my index finger or my blood staining the form…
I didn’t expect the red tablets she gave me to work but for the first time in years I had a night of wonderful, uninterrupted sleep. And the one after too…
I was back in Doctor Phaer’s office on the last day in October. How could I thank her for this miracle? She hadn’t mentioned a fee, yet. I stumbled on my thanks, offered her money. She only smiled and pushed the disclaimer form towards me again.
“You have already paid me. It’s all here in writing and you signed it. You haven’t asked me my first name, Mr Faust. It’s Lucy…”