He was my client, not meat on a stick, and I needed to remember that. He was probably going to leave here thinking how unprofessional I was after I sat here and stared at him the whole session.
“Let’s start with what brought you here today, Callum.”
“Well, that’s easy. I’ve had two panic attacks in the last two days, making it impossible for me to do my job.”
“And what job is that?”
He sat up a little straighter in his seat, even though he already had perfect posture. “I’m a Formula One race car driver.”
He was proud, and I was impressed with his profession. I’d never seen a race in person, but I’d caught it on TV once or twice. Before I moved from the States, no one made a big deal out of it, but in Barcelona, it was a huge event. The citizens went crazy when the Grand Prix hit their country, and I knew from all the excitement there had been a race yesterday.
“Did you just start as a driver?” Maybe his nerves got to him with it being his first race.
“I’ve been doing it since I was nineteen years old.” A bit of a southern twang came out, making me wonder where he was from.
“You mentioned you had two panic attacks recently. Were they your first ones?”
“I thought I was dying while in the cockpit of my car.” His gaze became unfocused as he most likely remembered the feeling of those attacks. “Yesterday I couldn’t even get inside the car. I started to, and then it hit me. My entire body seemed to crank up ten degrees, which might as well have felt like a hundred in my suit. When my heart started to race, and it sounded like I was in a tunnel, I knew I couldn’t race. If I had got in my car, I would have lost control in the first few minutes of being out on the track and then most definitely died or killed someone else.”
Having a panic attack while driving wasn’t safe, but it was a whole other level when going over two hundred miles per hour. I was glad he understood how serious it was.
“I’m glad you didn’t drive. You mentioned having them on consecutive days. What happened the other day when you had your panic attack?”
“The same symptoms, but I was out on the track. I had to come in and didn’t finish my qualifying laps.” He banged his fist on his leg, and his nostrils flared.
Most men didn’t like losing control, but for a man like Callum, who, going by his profession, was most definitely dominant in everything he did, it was worse. I was sure he was beating himself up about what he perceived as his failure.
“Did anything eventful happen before it started?”
I was surprised at how easily he was talking to me. I guess he really was desperate.
“A wreck, but it had cleared before I reached it. They’re always quick to get out of the way, and…I knew that, but it didn’t matter.”
Something had obviously happened, but Callum might not have been putting the two together.
“Okay, so you know wrecks are usually cleared, so what was different about that day? That wreck in particular?”
Placing his elbows on his knees, Callum hung his head. His fingers pulled at the strands of his hair as he grunted in frustration.
“It was my first race back after my wreck. I’d been out for four races and was anxious to get back on the track. My team depends on me for points. Without me, they won’t be making the top positions at the end of the year.”
They also wouldn’t ever make those positions if he ended up dead.
“That’s a lot of pressure on you. Were you ready to start back racing?”
He let out a bitter sounding scoff. “More than ready. I was climbing the walls while I was at home. I’m not used to sitting around doing nothing.”
“Were you hurt badly in your wreck?” Physically he looked fine, but there had been something that kept him from racing in those four races he missed.
“Just scrapes and bruises and a concussion,” he answered as if his injuries were no big deal, but a concussion was serious. It was possible he still had it.
“Was anyone else hurt?” I softly asked.
“There was another car, and he died. They didn’t tell me at first, but once I was released from the hospital, I found out.”
“After you found out, did it make you think it could have been you?”
“Oh, yeah. I saw the wreck coming, but that time it didn’t clear. I went through the smoke, and when I reached the other side, there was more wreckage. Bam!” he shouted. “It all went down in slow motion, and while I braced, I wasn’t sure if I would die or not.”
I didn’t think he gave the experience he’d had enough credit. An average wreck could be traumatic, but seeing it and knowing it’s about to happen, with speeds and consequences of that magnitude, was too much to handle. With a concussion afterward, he was bound to have some anxiety. Maybe if there hadn’t been a wreck the first time he got back into a car, he would have been fine. Or maybe one would have been triggered after he saw another wreck on or off the track.
He lifted his head, his eyes filled with desperation, and pleaded, “I need to be able to get back out on the track, Doc. I have less than two weeks until my next race.”
“I can’t promise you miracles in such a short amount of time, but we can work on trying to get you back behind the wheel. Did you drive here?” I didn’t have the heart to tell him there was no way to cure someone in such little time.
“Taxi. I didn’t want to risk the chance of freaking out again behind the wheel.” He let out a harsh breath. “I sound like a fucking pussy. Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to swear, but I can’t help it.”
“I take no offense. Plenty of clients swear and do much worse, so don’t worry about it.”
He perked up. His distress from a moment ago forgotten. “Oh, yeah, like what?”
I shook my head. “I can’t tell you that; doctor-patient confidentiality.”
“Fair,” he leaned forward again on his elbows.
“Since I’ve been hired to help you for the next week, why don’t we meet tomorrow at a car rental place, and we’ll start from there.”
“What’s renting a car going to do?” he questioned harshly.
“First, you’re going to rent it, and then you’re going to drive it. I’ll be with you, of course, in case you start to feel any panic. We’ll also work on exercises for you to try before you drive. But I can’t promise you you’ll be ready to race in two weeks. I’m sorry.”
“I have faith in you, Doc.”
“That’s all our time for today. I have a few more patients to see since I won’t be available to them for the week. Why don’t you verify your contact information with Maria out there, and she’ll call or text you the time and place for us to meet tomorrow?”
He looked a little apprehensive, but he stood and held out his hand for me to shake. “Thanks for meeting with me and letting me take up all your time.”
“It was my pleasure, Callum.”
I only hoped I could keep myself under control once we were out of the office. Neither one of us could afford for me to get sidetracked.
Aspen
Barcelona