Lundyn Bridges Read Free Page A

paralleled by my desire, but my confidence in restoring hope to Francine was far from intact. If I had any chance of helping her, I knew my feelings of transference would have to be buried – that, at least, was a skill I had mastered.

    Following our briefing on Wednesday, Dr. Solis and I met at the tenth floor nurses station.
    â€œAre you ready?” She asked, half smiling like a child who was having difficulty keeping a secret.
    â€œYes.” I exhaled my anxiety, too nervous to inquire about what I was obviously missing.
    â€œFrancine is a tough one,” Dr. Solis continued. “She will tell you that she only signed up for the program to get priority status for Bridge Housing. I’m not sure where else she has to go. No one has come to visit her in the three months she’s been here.”
    I followed as Dr. Solis proceeded down the hall, listening intently. “Francine can be mean and nasty. She cusses very well and is adept at using foul language to keep people away from her. Prior therapeutic efforts have been futile because she can be extremely difficult to engage. She’s hiding from some very intense feelings.” Dr. Solis stopped outside room 1016 andfaced me. “Your job is to help her.” Dr. Solis walked away, leaving me nervous about knocking on the door.
    I knocked twice and no one answered, so I entered the room. Francine was sitting at the top of her bed in the corner. The blinds were closed, and the curtains were drawn. The only light was the ray of the sun sneaking through the perimeter of the curtains. In the dim light, Francine looked more like a three-dimensional shadow as she sat motionless. She was a petite woman with short curly hair, and her stature was in contrast to the tall tales I had heard about her demeanor. Her face was expressionless. She stared at the wall, never acknowledging my entrance.
    â€œHello.” I forced a smile. “I’m Lundyn Bridges.” I extended my right hand, clutching my notebook and the thick file with my left arm.
    Francine did not respond.
    I took a step closer. “We’ll be meeting every morning for about an hour to…”
    Before I completed my second step, Francine turned to face me. “I ain’t got nothin' to talk about.” Francine’s tone was belligerent. “When I got out of jail they sent me here. I talked to the shrink, he gave me some pills, I take my pills every day, and I don’t bother nobody. Now you know all about me, and there’s nothin' more to talk about.” Francine resumed her blank stare at the wall.
    I was momentarily dumbfounded, and my mind raced to find a therapeutic response. “There’s a lot more we need to discuss,” I said quickly, “but we can do that tomorrow. I’ll see you at the morning meeting.” I walked out of the room without looking back and without saying good-bye.
    This first meeting was catastrophic, and I suddenly felt nauseated. My hands were clammy, and I could feel sweat dripping down my back. What would I say to Dr. Solis when the group met at four o'clock?
    â€œSo you met Francine?” Debbie smiled from behind the nurses’ station and handed me a can of iced tea.
    I tried to smile.
    â€œIf she didn’t throw anything or cuss you out, that’s progress. I’m one of the only nurses who’ll deal with Fran. She can be mean.” Debbie paused. “But so can I.”
    â€œDoes she talk to you?” I asked, wondering about any level of communication.
    â€œWhen we both feel like it. I would never allow her to think I’m going to respond only when she feels like talking to me. Sometimes I intentionally ignore her. She’s not the only one who can play head games.”
    â€œI don’t think she likes me,” I admitted between sips without looking up.
    â€œShe doesn’t like herself.” Debbie almost smirked. “There’s no therapy for what ails