Psychiatrists Agree Perspective Is Key to Mental Health

I hope you'll stop me if you've heard this story before. It might be true, then again it might not be. I am, as you are almost certainly aware, in the habit of making things up.

Like so many people who are creative for a livelihood, there comes a point when I am no longer able to distinguish between what I have made up, what I am claiming to have made up but in fact have not, what I don't know if I’ve made up or not, and what I absolutely know to be true, to the extent it is ever possible to be certain something is true, which it isn't. But enough about my methods.

Once upon a time there were two psychiatrists who worked in a tall office building nestled inside a big city populated in large part by individuals with interesting mental illnesses. As luck would have it, these citizens had extremely good health coverage and personal wealth so there was never a shortage of patients to occupy the men whose names were Dr. Throckmorton and Dr. Entwhistle.

By happy accident, their offices were directly across from one another and there, on the 23rd floor, they’d dispensed sanity for 17 and 19 years respectively. Being psychiatrists, they exhibited an appropriate degree of self-control and professionalism, which is to say, theirs was a cool reserve reminiscent of Edwardian butlers.

Over the years the two had encountered one another many times in the elevator and when they did so, as the ride was rather long, they would chat amiably, for them, about the events of their lives. One morning they crossed the lobby and entered the elevator simultaneously. The doors closed like steel curtains and they began their ascent.

Their journey was interrupted at the third floor when a gentleman entered in full clown regalia. His outfit included, but was not limited to, orange hair, white make-up, a painted smile, a bulbous nose, a polka dot silk costume with wide ruffled collar, and enormous red shoes. He was carrying a seltzer bottle.

The doctors looked at one another quietly. The clown, also silent, pressed the button for the 11th floor.

In between floors 7 and 8 the clown, completely unprovoked, unloaded his seltzer bottle on Dr. Entwhistle, soaking him head to toe. At the 11th floor he took his leave without comment. The doors closed and the elevator continued to rise.

A Psychiatrist Agreement on Mental Health Perspectives

“Dr. Entwhistle,” said Dr. Throckmorton, with studied reserve, “I feel compelled to complement you. That hideous man behaved outrageously and now you must towel off and find some dry clothes. It’s a disgrace! But throughout this ignominious assault you never once lost your composure! You’re an inspiration, not just to me, but to psychiatrists everywhere. Bravo!”

“Well, that's very generous of you,” said Dr. Entwhistle modestly, “but after all, he's the one with the problem.”