Valerie's Child, Part 1

Part 1

 

I received a call from an R.N. one day. Her name was Jane Blair (all names are fictional) and she attended my church. It was a referral; something that happened occasionally, though not as often as direct calls from prospective clients. Jane volunteered for an anti-abortion counseling center in a nearby town, and Valerie had contacted her. She was embarrassed, she was enrolled in a private college, and she wasn’t willing to show her face at the public counseling center, though she needed help badly, and she needed it now.

Jane continued. Would I be willing to take her on? Valerie could donate part of my costs, and Ms. Blair would be glad to supplement the remaining amount. I quickly agreed. I had rarely counseled a pregnant woman who was considering abortion. Before the R.N. hung up, she added, “Oh, by the way, (and this is important) Valerie is HIV Positive.” Well now, that did cast a whole new light on the subject… for some, but not for me. I had counseled a couple of younger people in the past, who had contracted the virus. I made Jane aware that this variable wouldn’t make any difference, at all.

I received a call from Valerie later that afternoon. She seemed nervous, and stuttered a couple times during our conversation, though her innocence and vivaciousness were infectious, (no pun intended). Before our conversation ended, I assured Valerie that I was “the most empathetic and unbiased counselor in this universe or any other,” a phrase designed to both reassure my prospective client, and lighten her mood. I heard Valerie chuckle in the background, and I was glad I made her laugh. We decided on a day and time to meet, and I told her I looked forward to seeing her.

The day dawned cloudless and bright, and I ran off a few intake forms, and put them on my clipboard. Valerie had an early appointment, and I found myself standing in my “usual place of honor,” just inside the front lobby doors, before 9AM. I heard the secretary’s clock chime its fake Big Ben nine bells… and waited. I began to think that my new client would find herself on the proverbial “no show list,” as perhaps a third of my new clients did. For the life of me, I never understood why people scheduled an appointment, and then failed to call or show. I remember the one time in my life I scheduled an appointment with a medical doctor, and decided I really had better things to do. I received his bill in the mail. Well now, this was a pastoral counseling center, and I was too sensitive about how the public regarded us to do that. (I was oh so tempted to institute this policy, though I never did.) This issue was always on the top five of my “Pet Peeve List,” however, just under Pedophiles and “Tail Gaters.” Obviously, I felt strongly about the tendency of some people to take advantage of my good graces. Thankfully, I lived close to the church.

Fifteen minutes came and went, and just as I walked out the front door to leave, and headed towards my nearby vehicle, a car pulled into the parking lot. I stopped in my tracks, and waited to see if this was my client. The old Altima pulled in next to my car, and a young lady hurriedly stepped out. There was little doubt that this was Valerie. She looked rattled, cast a glance at me and leaned her head to one side, as if to say, “Golly, Gee Whiz, I’m so sorry I’m late.” Walking quickly up to me, and in mid-stride she said, “You must be Dr. McDonald. I’m very sorry. I got caught by a train.” Honestly, I had heard this one before. As Valerie spoke, a train whistle sounded in the distance, and we smiled at the same time.

Valerie looked like she needed a hug, and while it was the last thing I would normally do with a new client, especially considering ours was a church agency, she reached out to me. The young lady wasn’t interested in a prefunctionary handshake. As a result, I reciprocated, and gave her a warm, but quick hug. (I silently mused that many people who had contracted HIV seemed hesitant to display affection with friends and family, much less with strangers.) Valerie was an exception to the rule. As it turned out, she was an exception to most every rule. I could sense that she was silently thrilled that I didn’t hesitate to touch her. I think this precious lady might have turned on her heel, and walked back to her vehicle had I exhibited a stand-offish attitude towards her. At the same time, I was rather surprised she was so unreserved considering the public’s mindset towards this mysterious and deadly disease.

As I put my key in the lock, and opened the door for her, I patted Valerie on the back, and formerly introduced myself with, “Yes, indeed. I’m Dr. McDonald. (But you can call me Bill.) You’ve come to the right place, Valerie. (And don’t worry about the train. It happens to many of my clients.”) This seemed to put her at ease.

I led the way up the winding staircase, an inclined trail that I was all too used to climbing. And since our church carpet was a mustard yellow, I often referred to it as “The Yellow Brick Road.” I led the way, and heard myself referring to it that way again. Valerie had a ready smile, and I could tell she enjoyed my “square humor” a great deal. I liked to think she thought, “Hey, I do believe I can deal with this fellow. He’s a straight shooter.” (My words, not likely hers).

I ushered Valerie into my office, and invited her to sit on the sofa. As she sat down, I noticed she glanced at my décor. I had recently placed a wallpaper border around the perimeter of my ceiling. My co-counselor had selected it. It was a modest representation of Da Vinci’s “God and Adam.” The image was faithful in every detail, except one. (As I mentioned… It was modest).

Valerie seemed to smile slightly, again. My wife has often mused that she wouldn’t have selected that particular border, but I always defended it. I just plain liked it. Apparently, we would just have to agree to disagree on that issue. Valerie was thin, but about my height and she had blue eyes and blond hair. If I had not known she was HIV Positive, it would not have been apparent. If I had not known she was pregnant, this also would have not been readily apparent, at this stage in the embryo’s gestation.

I decided to wait ‘til the end of the first session to deal with the preliminary forms, an omission Valerie seemed to recognize and appreciate. As a result, I began with, “Valerie, I think the best thing we can do today is hold off on your family history; at least ‘til next time. I generally begin with ‘please tell me all about your parents and your upbringing… beginning at conception,’” (momentarily forgetting the nature of my client’s issue). Well, rather than respond in abject shock, something about my entre caught Valerie off guard, and she began to laugh aloud. And I laughed with her. I think it was comforting to her that, even in the face of her condition, her counselor was able to loosen up, and give her the opportunity… to laugh; a trait that is highly under-rated among many counseling professionals.

After this, Valerie grew quiet, and pensive for a moment, and then asked, “Uh, where do you want me to begin?” Having worked with literally thousands of clients, my response came easily, “Well, Valerie, let’s deal with what you regard as your most sensitive issues today. Share with me exactly why you’re here, and how you want me to help you.”

My client’s eyes displayed more understanding now, and she seemed to consider how best to proceed.

 

(to be continued)

 

By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "Unconventional Devotions" Copyright 2005

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