Read Online Every Fifteen Minutes by Lisa Scottoline - Free Book Online Page A

any significance to when he reached for it, later.
    â€œI have a note from my grandmother, to say I can come.”
    â€œThat’s not necessary, you can consent to therapy on your own.”
    â€œShe thought it was like school, and it has the check.” Max reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of stationery, which he handed to Eric, who skimmed it— Dr. Parrish, God bless you for taking care of my Max —written in a shaky hand that summoned a lump to Eric’s throat. A check was inside, and he set them both on the end table.
    â€œPerfect, thanks. I’m glad you decided to come.” Eric typed Max Jakubowski and the date on the notepad. Later he’d print the notes and put them in a patient file, which he kept locked in his home office. He never recorded his sessions.
    â€œMy grandmother really wanted me to come. She likes you a lot.” Max clasped his hands together in his lap, his nervousness making him rigid.
    â€œI like her too. How is she today?”
    â€œNot great, to be honest. She was tired this morning. She usually tries to have some coffee around seven o’clock—she likes instant coffee, crystals or whatever—but not today. She got up but she went back to sleep without her coffee.” Max bit his lip. “It kinda worried me, like, I was thinking, it’s so weird to know that, well, one day I’ll go to wake her up and she won’t wake up, and like, that can happen anytime.”
    â€œThat’s very difficult.”
    â€œYeah, like, I don’t know if it’s better to know or not know. I can’t really believe it’s happening.”
    Eric thought of Laurie’s telling him that Mrs. Teichner had two weeks to live, but he didn’t share that. “I’m sure. It’s a very difficult thing to cope with.”
    â€œI know, and I had to come see you, but not because she says so. She doesn’t really know what’s going on, with me. I keep it from her.” Max paused, blinking. “I guess I have to tell you, I want to, it’s why I’m here, why I knew I would come, like, sooner or later. My symptoms are getting worse.”
    â€œWhat symptoms?”
    â€œI have OCD.”
    â€œTell me about your OCD.” Eric used Max’s term, but wasn’t taking it at face value. He would have to know Max better before he made a diagnosis, and he’d have to learn the boy’s family history, to determine his biological vulnerabilities. Late adolescence and early adulthood was a dangerous time, especially for boys; it was around Max’s age that “first breaks” usually occurred, in that bipolarity and schizophrenia reared their ugly heads.
    â€œDr. Parrish, I really need you to give me some meds. I’ve done the research, I know meds can help OCD. Isn’t that right?”
    â€œYes, it is.” Eric encountered this all the time in practice; if a pill existed, patients wanted it. He wasn’t anti-meds, but he wasn’t about to order anything unless it was called for, especially with an adolescent.
    â€œLuvox and Paxil are good for OCD, I read. Is that what I’ll get?”
    â€œBefore we talk about meds, let’s talk about your symptoms.” Eric usually prescribed an SSRI for OCD, like fluoxetine, which was FDA approved, or Celexa, Zoloft, and Luvox, but all of them came with black box warnings for adolescents, which meant they could result in suicidality.
    â€œWhat about my symptoms?”
    â€œYour OCD, as you say. How does it manifest itself?” Eric wanted to get Max talking, the goal in a first session. “Many people use the term OCD as slang. I need to know your symptoms.”
    â€œI have a thing I have to do, like, every fifteen minutes. I have to tap my head and say something and right on time.” Max frowned. “I researched myself online. It’s called rituals.”
    â€œRight. Ritualistic