Debriefing

I sat down with Wilson this morning with a nice cup of tea and a chocolate digestive and we discussed what the psychiatrist had said. 

W nodded his head sagely after each point… until we got to the bit about revoking his VISA privileges, when he accused me of making that bit up! 

Actually, I'm not keen on this either, since W does all the food shopping using my card, but the psychiatrist had been quite insistent.

After he calmed down and thought about it for a little while, he agreed to give up the VISA card… in return for being allowed to have a pet. 

I said I'd think about it. 

Every parent knows what this means!

The psychiatrist speaks

After the consultation the psychiatrist told me that Wilson is suffering from an idée fixe; in his case, a kind of 'reverse solipsism' -- a condition where the sufferer thinks everyone is real except himself.

He said that W was also experiencing 'expectation issues' with his mother, and (due to his very variable fathering experiences) boundary issues with me. He told me that I must set more rigid and appropriate boundaries, and revoke Wilson's VISA privileges. He also suggested that, notwithstanding his precocity and apparent maturity, W should not be allowed to watch any movies with higher than a U rating. Also, we should go out together, take more exercise and eat more ants. 

He also told me that I should try to persuade Wilson to behave more like an anteater. He's obviously not tried living with him! 

He said that Wilson would derive maximum benefit from Group Therapy… but unfortunately he doesn't have any other anteater patients to make up a group. 

Wilson's not going to like that bit about the VISA card!

Couch time...

Today we went to see the Animal Psychiatrist. Wilson went in to his consulting room without me (he looked very little and vulnerable) and told him all his inner fears and thoughts -- how he watched 'Moon' and how he now thinks he's not 'real' and all his friends, relatives, even me, are 'implanted memories'. Even how he thought he might be a figment of my imagination.

I may be prejudging, but I'd be surprised if Wilson doesn't have 'father issues'. What with having had so many fathers, each for so brief a time.

There's also the matter of his mother's high expectations of him, and how he promised her that he'd be a millionaire before his seventh birthday. 

These are great loads for a young anteater to carry; I hope I can bring more stability into his life…

A second opinion

We've just seen the new vet, who says that she thinks Wilson is experiencing some sort of fixation and recommended a 'talking therapy'. 

She has referred Wilson to a psychiatrist colleague of hers, but warned me that the insurance company might be quite surprised to receive a claim for psychiatric treatment of an anteater. 

When we got outside, W confided that instead of a talking therapy he'd prefer a 'cuddling therapy' as he thought this vet was 'really hot!' 

Thinking I'd be wasting my time if I explained about therapist transference, I just said that doctors were strictly forbidden from dating their patients by their Hippocratic Oath. I can tell he's still down as he didn't even make a joke about hippos.

Emergency visit to the vet...

Realising Wilson might be heading towards an existential crisis, I bundled him into the car and drove him to the vet, who saw him immediately as an emergency case.

After taking a look at him and chatting with him for a few minutes, she told me that there was nothing physically wrong with Wilson, but recommended me to take him to see a colleague of hers who specialised in 'this sort of thing'. 

After we left, W told me that the vet was very kind and reminded him of his mum, Mrs Vermilingua. Perhaps he's just missing his mother.

On arriving home I checked my email and found I'd received a receipt from iTunes for the collected works of Søren Kierkegaard and for Jean-Paul Sartre's 'Being and Nothingness', Kindle edition.

Wilson's crisis draws near...

This morning I went downstairs and found several memos from Wilson magneted to the fridge door. Later, I received a receipt from iTunes for The Complete Works of Philip K Dick, Kindle edition. 

I think that W, following watching the movie 'Moon', is slipping into a reality crisis… and I don't know what to do for the best…

I try to cheer Wilson up by suggesting he incorporate 'Doctor Vermilingua's Healing Ant Soup' into his portfolio of medical specialities, perhaps even naming it after his mother, but he is not enthusiastic. He shuffles off disconsolately, telling me he's going to read a magazine. 

Later I took him a cup of tea and a biscuit and discovered he was reading New Scientist: The Existential Issue. It's full of questions like 'How Do I Know that Everyone Else Isn't a Zombie?', 'Am I a Hologram?' and 'How Do I Know I Even Exist?' with answers like 'You Don't', 'You Probably Are', and 'You Can't' respectively.

This is not a good sign.