Excuse Me!

We sat in the doctor's office in the basement of his home. I was my fourth session with the psychologist. Dwain, my husband was there for moral support. Dr. Feuerstein sat on a white plastic chair directly across from us. He had just completed the relaxation exercises. You know the breath in, breath out. Picture this and imagine that. The focus on the white light going up and down your body. It was all the regular stuff that a doctor makes his patient do to relax and kind of detox from the stresses of life and the harshrealitiess of the world. It was great until.

Out of the clear blue sky we saw Dr. Feuerstein wiggle in his chair. He tilted over to one side and then the other. His right but cheek was lifted in the air then the sound came. He broke a win. He farted in our presence. No excuse me. No pardon me. No I'm sorry. He went on like nothing happened. I was stunned. I glanced over at Dwain and his face registered shock. What just happened I thought? What the... is this?

Dr. Feuerstein proceeded with his questions. I heard nothing. I was too shocked. Then I saw his hands slip down between his legs. With his hooked pinkie he began to scratch himself between the legs. Rake, rake, rake the scratching went. The doctor was not ashamed of his behavior. He acted as if this was normal. He satisfied his itch without regard to us. Nasty! Absolutely nasty!

I must confess that my feelings toward Dr. Feuerstein changed in that very moment. I thought he was nasty. He lacked social graces. He had no respect for me or my husband. Yes, I questioned how a doctor could behave in such a manner. I could not believe that a learned person would or could act in such a disgraceful way. What happened to "excuse me?" Those two little words that parents teach their children. That teachers reinforce in school. That is whipped out in social settings. What happened to "excuse me?"

Once the session was over I did not want to go back but I could not find another doctor in my area. I was stuck. I needed the help, but I did not like the therapist bedside manner. Should I bring it up? Should I pretend it never happened? Should I...? The questions were endless. I went back for my next session alone. Dwain had to work and the kids were in school. I braced myself for another stink one from the doctor. It didn't come. I thought ok, maybe it was all a dream, except Dwain had experienced the same dream like me. With ten minutes left to the session I noticed the movement of the hooked pinkie. It descended between the legs. Dr. Feuerstein's right hand held the pad and he gently moved it over his crotch. I looked away. I stared at the wall, computer, the heater, anything to avoid looking at him. Then I heard the all too familiar sound, rake, rake, rake. The bell rang and the session was up. I can't come back I thought as I left his office. I can't come back this is too strange.

What would you do if this happened to you? How would you feel? What would you think? I realize that we are an advancing and highly sophisticated country, but does that mean that anything goes? Are we really advanced if we pass our gas in public without a word of apology? Are we sophisticated if we scratch our private areas in the assembly of strangers or even friends when a bathroom or a corner of a room is available? I think that what makes us a sophisticated people is when we respect others as we want to be respected. It is learning to put peoples comfort and possibly their needs before our own.

I needed to have a session with my therapist. I needed his respect, for I was giving him respect. Did I have gas? Yep. Did I pass it in his presence? Nope! Did I hold my gas? Sure did! Did I go to the bathroom that was only ten steps from his offshouldn'ts. Shouldn't he have done the same? Yes!

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