Dating : The Case of One Benjamin Fischer

Supplementary material A): extract from Benjamin Fischer’s notebook
June 5th, 2017
Take the pen between your fingers, tender, press its furtive nib. Those jaunty bumps, those swerving ringers. The full stop plop and the neat click lid. Now, this is the beginning, Benjamin. This is where the real work starts. The other systems haven’t worked out, but, with this moleskin treasure chest, you can hoard the formative jewels of self-betterment, the golden lessons of failure and loss. You’ll catalogue the billion trivialities. Every single one will be considered and consolidated, given a name and a practical geometry. Smells, raindrops, whispers, the wind. You must remember them. You must understand them all. You’ll sleep with this little book; wake alongside its bleary-eyed pages. You’ll grind pencils down to the nub, and wring out octopuses for another droplet of ink, if you have to. But, before you begin, there’s something that I want to speak to you about. It’s something that I’ve been meaning to say for a while now, but I didn’t know how to put it. It’s just that, well, there’s something ‘off’ with your brains, Benjamin — they’re all the wrong angle, the wrong shape. I think that you might be a bit mad.

The chunky bee with gold moustaches, smoothing out his long eyelashes. See him plod upon my sill, he fuzzes, buzzes, whirls until, he recollects he came for tea, and bumbles in my company. This is serious. Work’s dried up and the landlady’s passive aggressive hints about rent have become considerably more active. How she’s so effectively managed to weaponize slippers as projectiles, is beyond me (and where does she get all that bloody ammunition?). It’s making me worried; you know. The way that you are, the way that your head keeps running, I just don’t think that you can hack it all. So, I’ve decided, you’ll go to the hospital tomorrow. There’s nothing else for it, and I’ll have no arguments: your welfare means too much to me. Light as air and cool as rivers, the nimbus steams, and falls, and shivers. Yes, yes, the doctors couldn’t help last time, but these aren’t the same doctors and this isn’t last time. It’s worse, Benjamin. It’s so much worse. You’re ill and, God, does it show.

So much work to be done. Aren’t you excited? You can get started on the measurements once you’re back, tomorrow, but you really must try to be more precise. It hurts me so much more than it does you when you make these silly mistakes.

Patient records- Benjamin Fischer- 06/06/17
Dr. Rajesh Khan- M.D.
Patient visited the general practice complaining of obsessive behaviour, manifesting as compulsive acts of cleanliness, counting, measuring, and repetitive touching rituals. Patient exhibited symptoms of mania and depression. Previous physician, one Dr. Thomas Bowdich, employed cognitive behavioural therapy and a course of SSRI medication (Fluoxetine) in 2013. Patient exhibited akathisia as a side effect of the medication, which was subsequently discontinued. CBT proved ineffective after 28 weeks and patient continues to exhibit symptoms of the disorder. Cursory examination of the patient’s physiology shows muscle fascia tears on the inner thighs and malnourishment, most likely as a result of the reported insomnia-induced sleep deprivation and depression. Patient referred to Dr. Q. Blenheim, at the central hospital, for psychological assessment.

Patient records- Benjamin Fischer- 11/07/17
Dr. Quinn Blenheim M.D.
Session 1):08/06/17– Mr Fischer was asked to complete several psychoanalytic tests, including object assembly, matrix reasoning and a general knowledge test. Results indicate that he possesses a high intellect and a competency for spatial and social awareness. Mr. Fischer’s character is pragmatic but lacks a capacity for creativity or empathy. In matters of mathematics, physics and spatial awareness, he excels, though speculative and theoretical subjects do not seem to interest him at all. In addition, he has a comprehensive knowledge of psychoanalytic procedures and is derisory as to the validity of free response measures. We have agreed to pursue tests which have a restricted response format.

Session 2):09/06/17– Mr. Fischer was asked to complete a Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory (MMPI-2) to determine any key areas of concern in his psyche. The items on the content scales of the MMPI-2 contain obvious content and may, therefore, be subject to response bias and should be interpreted with caution. The results indicated high scores in obsessiveness, social discomfort, and negative treatment indicators. However, validity scales of Mr. Fischer’s MMPI-2 were inconclusive. Second MMPI-2 test organised for the next session.

Session 3): 09/06/17– Mr. Fischer was asked to complete a second MMPI-2 test. Results indicated significant inconsistencies with the previous answers given, suggesting that he was exhibiting superlative self-presentation, infrequent somatic response (as corroborated by Dr. Khan), and, most prevalently, variable response inconsistency. When confronted with this, Mr. Fischer criticised the efficacy of the MMPI-2, became aggressive, and left the session.

Session 4): 10/06/17– Mr. Fischer claimed to have no recollection of previous aggression or of leaving the last session early. He also insisted that I refer to him as ‘Ben’. His character was affable and lucid, so free response measures tests were employed, including Rorschach tests, TAT, and animal metaphor tests. Results suggested that the patient is suffering from a form of dissociative identity disorder, though the cause or trigger of this disorder is, as yet, unknown.
– No history of mental illness in patient’s family.
– No known instances of abuse during patient’s early childhood.
– No known instances of physical or mental trauma to trigger his current mental state.
Patient referred to Dr. Rajesh Khan to undergo testing with an electroencephalogram to determine whether the cause of his neurological disorder is physiological in nature.

Supplementary material B): Extract from Benjamin Fischer’s notebook
July 7th, 2017
How do they do it? Is it the scratchy carpets, the smiling pamphlet collages, those omnipresent chairs? How do waiting rooms become such strange worlds of their own? Whole dimensions of bored energy? Do journalists dream for the day that their work might be the last thing that someone reads before they find out that they have multiple sclerosis or haemorrhoids? The man that sat across from me (incredible nose hair!) looked stout and defeated all at once. He just glowered at me when I asked him to join me with the toys. ‘Suit yourself, mister’, I told him, but that jigsaw wasn’t going to put itself together. You know that I trust you, Benjamin, but it was better for both of us that I met with Blenheim first. The tests that he gave me were simplistic little trifles: blocks and puzzles to make sure we’re all there; some questions to test our verbal, interpersonal skills. Not much at all, really. But then there was that sumptuous MMPI-2 personality test.

That didn’t go too well, now, did it? We didn’t pass the second test because of you, Benjamin. If you’d just let me do it, we could have gotten through the whole thing without incident, but you just had to insist on having your say, didn’t you? See the crags and crabs a-skitter, the rock pool puddings of anemones. The tide returns all black and bitter: the coasts swirling hegemonies. So, we toyed with projective tests (even if I don’t put much faith in them) with Blenheim insisting upon the term “free response measures testing”, the absolute hack.

You did those ridiculous Rorshachs, a thematic apperception test (TAT is an apt acronym), and something a little different- an animal metaphor test in which we drew two animals, described them, and then explained a dialogue between them. It was only right that we share, so I sketched out the rat (in chiaroscuro dramatism), and you penned a boxy owl with a milky moon scowl. They didn’t get on very well. I wonder what it could mean.

I checked your measurements, by the way. Let me ask you, is the number 99.7 the same as the number 100? They’re very close, aren’t they? But even you will have to admit that they’re not the same number. So why is it, that when the length of the desk in the bedroom is 99.7 centimetres when I measure it, it’s exactly 100 when you do? Am I going to have to start doing everything myself? Do you think that I enjoy being cruel to you? That I’m some kind of sadist? It’s for you that I do all of this. I’m just trying to keep you safe; can’t you see?

We’ll go back to Khan on the 13th for that scan. It’ll be marvellous to finally have a self-portrait.

Patient records- Benjamin Fischer- 13/07/17
Dr. Rajesh Khan M.D.
Patient fell into a state of sleep during the brain scan, revealing his resulting brain activity. EEG showed no signs of a period of REM sleep during this time. When asked, the patient indicated that he had no recollection of ever dreaming. In speaking further to the patient (difficult, as he is often distressed or distracted) I have learnt that whilst he is aware of the existence of dreams, his knowledge of them is conceptual, rather than practical. I theorise that the patient is suffering from a rare form of Charcot-Wilbrand syndrome and have ordered MRI scans of his brain to isolate the cause of his illness.

Supplementary material C): Extract from Benjamin Fischer’s notebook
July 13th, 2017
The hum-drum thrum of wired red that maps the canyons in my head- the gyres churning ‘neath my sockets: grey matter locked in greyer lockets. I don’t like hospitals (does anyone?), but maybe being here can help you. Dr. Khan says that you can’t dream and that’s why you’re all wrong in the head (not his words, but we know he’s just being nice, don’t we?)

Dreams. You’ve heard of them, haven’t you, but how could you know the depth of the word? It’s like hearing of a people in a foreign country but never living and breathing their culture. Apparently, they come and play out images and thoughts in those sudden time lapses between blinking, at least in other people. But it isn’t active. Much like our heart pumping away without our say so, it just happens. Another thing that we cannot control.

Is this why you need me? You always make so many mistakes but, I can put the world into order, make sense of all its madness. Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day.

The cups at the hospital are precisely 15 cm tall, they hold 13 fluid ounces of liquid, they are magnolia with cyan squares equidistant from the handle, they are made in Basingstoke from glazed porcelain. The doctors won’t let us measure anything else. It’s keeping the other patients awake.

Patient records- Benjamin Fischer- 14/07/17
Dr. Rajesh Khan M.D.
MRI scan of patient’s brain revealed a lesion on the right inferior lingual gyrus, but no other brain damage. Cursory conclusions of this data suggest that dream images either originate or are processed in this part of the brain. Patient indicated no history of head trauma to have caused the lesion, so it was concluded that this has been present in the patient since birth. Patient agreed to participate in medical trial to use stem cells to repair damaged brain tissue and was referred to Dr. Blenheim for further counselling and psychological analysis before being transferred to the London clinic for treatment.

Supplementary material D): Extract from Benjamin Fischer’s notebook.
July 16th, 2017
Khan brought some interns to ask us questions and referred us to another hospital in London where they might give you dreams. It’s all moving so quickly and we’re just sitting about. Still, there’s another week here with Blenheim. A few more tests with him, I suppose. He doesn’t seem too keen on me, but he doesn’t realise how much I’ve done for you. Sometimes, I think even you don’t realise, Benjamin. You need me (remember that), otherwise, all of these bits and pieces, all of these objects and things will overwhelm you.

The nurses flutter through the ward, all great teeth and exaggerated actions. There is a grim matron called Anastasia with arms like turkeys and a face of small defeats. She’s wonderful. Her tennis shoes quack as her bob rushes by. It’s like a hovering loaf of bread zooming to and fro. The interns don’t much like her: they say that she’s too strict and bitter. But when she leans over me, scowling at my undue use of the hospital bed, I smell her citric perfume. I won’t breathe a word, Anastasia; it can be our little secret that you are a woman, and that you like clementines.

I managed to swipe a ruler from the nurse’s station yesterday after they confiscated ours. Everything has to be touched and understood here, measured exactly as its own individual object. I’ll make sense of it all, I promise.

I want to ask you, Benjamin, are you sure about all this? I wish you’d consult me when you make such big decisions. We don’t even know if these dreamless nights are the real problem and you’ve agreed to let them change your brain. Can you understand that? They’re going to root around in there and make you different: pick at the wires until something sparks. You drive me mad with worry.

Personally, (and what isn’t ‘personal’ between you and I?) I don’t see how projecting a few moving images in your brain whilst you sleep is going to make the world quieter, make it less necessary to quantify. But, then, Dr. Khan is insistent that this is the problem, and he doesn’t seem like one to lie. Am I the problem? Am I the solution? Just what am I to you?

Patient records- Benjamin Fischer- 22/07/17
Dr. Quinn Blenheim M.D.
Mr. Fischer displays no acute agnosia, typically accompanying Charcot-Wilbrand syndrome. His extensive visual library is evident from the detailed nature of his drawings, which he makes continuously, and which range from renderings of simple cutlery and medical instruments, to portraits of fellow patients and the hospital staff. The nature of these sketches is always technical, with measurements and notes regarding texture and associated sensations, surrounding the works. There is one of myself, effected in meticulous detail.

I have spoken with Mr. Fischer, at length, in an effort to understand the nature of his alternate EP personality. I theorize that its manifestation is a by-product of his inability to dream, and the subsequent lack of ‘processing’ of everyday objects and impressions. This second personality regards me with open hostility and has been instrumental in the development of Mr. Fischer’s obsessive compulsive behaviours, seemingly as a psychological defence mechanism against the overwhelming amount of information which he is called upon to consciously disseminate during his waking hours.

I have intentionally asked all members of hospital staff to keep the nature of the stem cell treatment vague, so as not to threaten Mr Fischer’s EP personality. Should the treatment be successful, this personality will cease to be necessary, as the emotional fight-or-flight stimulus will have been eradicated. This personality is predominant, and only in rare instances does Mr. Fischer’s true identity present itself. I have scheduled follow up sessions with Mr. Fischer, after his treatment is concluded, to work through these issues.

Shoreditch Police station- incident report- 26/07/17
Deputy Chief Constable Nigel Simmons C.I.D.
Suspect: white male, late twenties, 6’2, short dark hair, green nightgown, slippers. Was reported to dispatch via an anonymous 999 call at 8:23am at the Highbury & Islington underground station showing signs of visible distress and aggression. Officer Wayde, first on scene, attempted to calm the suspect, who cited several inefficiencies regarding the London underground system whilst measuring the dimensions of Officer Wayde’s hat. Suspect became erratic when asked where he was residing and attempted to flee up the escalators. Rush hour commuters made use of the exiting escalator impossible, and after 5 minutes of ineffectively running up the descending escalator, suspect stopped and returned to the waiting Officer Wayde. Background check on suspect indicated that he had escaped the London Neurosurgery Clinic at approximately 4am, travelling on foot through the Hackney, Camden, and Islington boroughs. A Dr. Quinn Blenheim paid £75 bail and escorted the suspect back to the clinic under heavy sedation.

Patient records- Benjamin Fischer- 29/07/17
Dr. Rosaline Clough M.D.
Patient suffering from Charcot-Wilbrand syndrome underwent surgical procedure to induce formation of previously absent inferior lingual gyrus via implantation of pluripotent stem cells and suitable donor tissue. Total time of procedure: 6 hours, 27 minutes. Patient is stable and recovering in ICU. Psychological analysis from Dr. Quinn Blenheim, pending.

Supplementary material E): Extract from Benjamin Fischer’s notebook.
August 4th, 2017
Hello there, stranger. It certainly has been a while, hasn’t it? All through that long dark with no communication. Now, now, it’s still sore, don’t go touching at your bandages. I suppose that we’d better get this out of the way, since I so hate to go dancing around an issue with you. I’m sorry that I ran off, Ben. I’m sorry that I took control of things and ran away. If you really must know why, it’s because, well, I was afraid.

And I know fear: dread’s childish insistence; panic’s short, flushed jolts, the organ descent of horror. I’m a connoisseur of unease and anxiety, and I could taste something ‘off’ in the air. The forced smiles, the whispers, those glacial silences on the ward. There was something wrong with it all. The way the doctors looked at me. It was like I was the problem, as if I were a tumour they intended to excise. So, I ran, and I am sorry. But I suppose that it was all for nothing, after all that. I couldn’t get away…

Can I ask, what have you seen in these strange, fragrant nights? Something about the heat, and the fever, and the hospital hum that keeps me away from you, leaves me alone to writhe and simmer. Great towers full of oil-splotch galleries; sculptures vast and intricate; odorous sewers, and ambrosial kitchens; amphitheatres of humming orchestras; the sweat stick of arachno-limbed sex. Tell me, do you feel any different? You must be as woozy as me, at least. I feel sick, Ben, and we’ve got all those sessions with Blenheim still to go. It’ll be hard, I know, it’ll be the hardest thing, but we’ll get through it together, won’t we? We’ve always been there for one another.

Patient records- Benjamin Fischer- 07/08/2017
Dr. Quinn Blenheim M.D.
Mr. Fischer’s physical recovery has been confirmed through multiple sessions with the MRI during his periods of rest. There have been no post operation complications from the surgical procedure, and he can dream again. Psychologically, Mr. Fischer is still suffering from dissociative identity disorder, with his EP personality remaining dominant. However, this personality no longer has a function. Dreaming has allowed Mr. Fischer to process and disseminate the world around him without the need for conscious effort. 6 weeks of counselling sessions booked in with Mr. Fischer to confront and treat his disorder.

Supplementary material F): extract from Benjamin Fischers notebook September 12th, 2017
Out, out, out. Out with the wind. Oh, I see how it is. Is that what Blenheim’s been telling you? Whispering it into your ears? I knew he wanted rid of me, that fatuous little failure.

Out. Do you think that you can survive without me? Do you think that you won’t go mad without my help? I was the one who got us through all these years. I was the one who made you go to the doctors in the first place.

The mountains hush. How they stride beyond men. Where would you be, if not for me? You haven’t the stomach for it all, you make too many stupid mistakes, and let the world roar and bellow at you with all its intricacies and secrets. It was me who made sense of everything. Not you, me. And now you think that just because you can dream, you don’t need me anymore? That all of those little things will be processed and made sense of whilst you doze and snore? The woods are deep, tenebrous dark, a galaxy of greenery: but how the flowers frame the bark, the path, the living scenery.

Have I really been that unkind to you? What about all I’ve ever done for us? What about me, Benjamin? Don’t I mean anything to you? Out. Ben. Out. Ben, come on, what are you doing? Out, out, out! You can’t do this. You can’t do this to me. Youcan’tdothistomeyoucan’tdothistomeyoucan’t.

Supplementary material G): extract from Benjamin Fischer’s notebook
September 12th, 2019
What a find. Two years, and now I happen upon this book, this ‘moleskin treasure chest’ tucked in a briefcase with all of these other clippings. I haven’t thought about him for so long. He was me and I haven’t given him so much as a thought.
And do I regret it? Lament his loss? Reading back on the way that he would speak to me, there was something good in him (obscene, misguided maybe, but vaguely familial). A kind of love. But how could we have gone on together? It had all frayed and unravelled. Spit and fizzled into smoke. No, I had to cut him out, to kill him off.

He was afraid at the end (he was always afraid enough for both of us) but now I’m the one with the mad eyes and the high blood pressure (the over the shoulder glares, the flinch and shudder). Without my companion, the world is immense, its hugeness eyes me with all of its incredible heft of matter. But when I wake and struggle out from under caverns of linen, into the moist, pale dawn, I face it, I do it myself, piece by piece and day by day. These nights, I dream, oh, how beautifully I dream, but never, never, never about him.