A Mind No Longer Valid and Other Stories
by
Book Cover & Preview Text
Gerald Meloy was on his third trip around the block
when he spotted a parking place. While not at his best at parallel parking, he
still managed to wedge his Audi into the available space without mishap. He got
out of his car and set the theft alarm system. It beeped, ergo it was set. He
turned and walked down the street.
Gerald was apprehensive, nervous but resigned. The
day’s endeavor was a must if his life was to go on in a remotely tolerable way.
He glanced at his watch, a Rolex he mused. It was 5:45 PM. His appointment was
for 6 PM. He assumed that with a psychiatrist, or any doctor for that matter, a
6 PM appointment meant 6 PM or sometime thereafter. No matter, he was prepared
to wait.
He entered the building through the revolving door.
A few other people were going in, more were leaving. Probably getting off work.
They all seemed calm and appeared content. He envied them. Of course, he
realized that he could be wrong. Maybe they were just good at masking their
true selves. He could certainly identify with that.
He went to the directory, where occupants were
listed in bold letters. The directory was on the wall, between the two
elevators. White lettering on a black background. Nondescript, but informative.
Efficient. Just enough to be effective, one might say, while avoiding gaudy or
unnecessary expense. Gerald Meloy admired efficiency, and he admired
effectiveness and the accomplishment of purpose without unnecessary expense.
He quickly located the name he sought. Gregory Wyss,
M.D., Suite 444. He got on the elevator, rode it to the fourth floor, and got
off. Looking around, he noticed a sign indicating that suites 400 to 450 were
to his left. He turned to his left and walked down the hall. He stopped in
front of Suite 444. After a few deep breaths, he opened the door and walked in.
The reception room was unassuming, and, more
importantly, non-threatening. A couch, two chairs, and a coffee table. There
were magazines on the coffee table. He didn’t notice the titles. A picture hung
on the wall, but it made no particular sense to him. Modern art, possibly, or
maybe it had gotten wet and the ink ran. He couldn’t tell.
A woman sat behind a small desk. She wore her hair
in a bun, had glasses, and exhibited no discernible make-up. Nice bone
structure, though, and nice teeth. He fantasized briefly about her legs. There
was a phone on the desk, and a computer. The woman with her hair in a bun
looked up, nonchalantly, and smiled. She had a pleasant smile.
“You must be Mr. Meloy.”
“Why yes, I guess I’m a few minutes early, but ...”
“Not a problem, Mr. Meloy. Dr. Wyss is finished with
his other patients. He said to send you in as soon as you arrived.” She got up
and walked over to a large mahogany door. She had nice legs. She knocked
lightly and opened the door, just enough to stick her head in. Meloy couldn’t
make out what she said, and he heard no response from the inside. She turned
towards him and smiled.
“You may go in now, Mr. Meloy.”
“Thank you.” There was perspiration on his forehead.
He wiped his brow with his hand as he entered the room. He was nervous, and he
knew it showed. That bothered him.
The man sitting behind the large wooden desk stood
up, walked around the desk, and came
towards him. The man smiled and extended his hand. “Mr. Meloy, I’m Dr. Gregory
Wyss. I’m glad to meet you.”
Meloy shook the outstretched hand. He was somewhat
surprised by the firm grip. Dr. Wyss was a small, somewhat obese man, with a
correspondingly pudgy face. He had short hair speckled with gray. No pipe, no
goatee, and he smiled. He was not what Meloy expected.
“Glad to meet you, Doctor. I was referred to you by
a colleague of yours. Dr. Koen. He felt that you might be able to help me.”
Meloy felt awkward, aware that his comment belabored the obvious.
Dr. Wyss returned to his chair and sat down. He
pondered, then nodded. “Yes, I know Allen Koen well. A fine psychiatrist. Very
fine. But we all have our areas of expertise, and apparently Allen found your
situation more suited to my particular areas of interest. So I will try my best
to help you, Mr. Meloy. I will most certainly try.” He crossed his legs and
folded his hands in his lap. He seemed too small for the chair, but his manner
was easy and relaxed. He didn’t project the stiffness that Meloy found so
disturbing and intimidating in Dr. Koen.
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Book Details
About the Book
This is a book of short stories that tend to revel
in the absurd, wallow in the satirical, flirt with the fantastic and yet cling,
ever so gingerly, to the possible. They
explore the depths of the depraved mind, the bedevilment of the disturbed mind,
the impotence of the controlled mind and the abnormality of the normal mind.
The stories vary from first person narratives of
very mentally sick individuals, emphasizing the distorted ways in which these
people may see what others call reality and their attempts to deal with same,
to surrealistic encounters in which all minds present are not necessarily on a
day to day engagement with reality, to satires exposing the frailties of
societies and those of us who tend to give credence to the mores of particular civilizations. All in all, no one is particularly spared,
but for that matter no one is especially harpooned, either.
About the Author
Dr. Haney has a Ph.D. in Educational Psychology from
the University of Houston. He has
worked in the mental health field for thirty years. His experience includes working with children and adults with
mental problems in a variety of settings.
For nine years Dr. Haney worked on the Psychiatric
Unit of the Harris County Jail, one of the largest jails in the U.S. Dr. Haney oversaw the assessment of inmates’
mental status and the determination of need for treatment while incarcerated,
and also participated in treatment of those committed to the Psychiatric Unit
of the Jail. He has extensive
experience with the troubled mind and the thinking and behaviors resulting from
same.