Days later...A woman walking her dog in the central square meets another woman who was sitting on one of the wooden benches:“Hello, how are you, Marta!?”“Hi... good afternoon, Lídia... Alright... I was even going to stop by the market you work at today, at the end of the afternoon, to do a little shopping... for my sister...”"Which one? The one who is pregnant?” Marta asks, as she knows that her friend has more than one sister.“Yes, the ‘buchudinha’ really... She's very lazy...” reveals Lídia.“Is it fear of leaving the house?” Marta asks, lowering her voice."Like this? Fear of what?" Lídia questions, showing surprise.“Several pregnant women even try to avoid passing where Mrs. Rúbia passes.... I think this is an exaggeration, but there are people spreading the word that it could be bad luck, so many don't want to risk it.... There haven't been any cases of abortion here for a long time ..., but the fear is very great, one of them told me!” Marta says, making an expression of t
Months earlier, after the fifth and final miscarriage, the serene and irresistible doctor had a conversation with her and said:“Rúbia, my dear... Know that I treat you as if you were my own daughter, as I have been responsible for your health since you were born!” He remembers the doctor in a docile and friendly tone, but is interrupted by her.“I trust you with all my heart and I know that today I am well and... healthy, thanks to your dedication, all these years! I never doubt your competence in taking care of me in advance. That’s why I have him as a father, you know?” Sincerely.“And you are my beloved little daughter... Who I would die for, if necessary.” Appeals to the emotional.“There were people who advised me to go to the capital or even outside the country. Many told me to send for one or more doctors to treat me here... However, because I trusted you and, out of respect, I refused to even think about these possibilities!” She admits, excited.After hearing these sincere w
First session, first week...When sitting on a chair facing the couch, he organizes himself, placing a folder on his lap, which contains the initial information obtained via telephone. He takes a small recorder and the usual notepad out of his pocket to begin.Now on the exquisite red velvet divan, with legs that resemble a lion's paws, made of carved wood, which appear to be twisted and with golden details, is Rúbia. She runs her hand over the velvet and remembers her mother, who sat on it while being listened to by a man, who also visited her quite frequently. And they spent hours talking alone when her father was traveling and much less time when her father was at home.“Beautiful furniture!” Praise him.“It was imported from Europe, precisely from Portugal, as was all the furniture here. I confess that this baroque style, typical of a noble European residence, is not really my style, but it reminds me of my parents and... my childhood...” he reveals, with a certain nostalgia.The
Third session, third week....Now, given the entire context of her life, he asks her to reach the culmination:“Describe the dream..., or dreams...” he demands when he realizes that she is already becoming redundant in talking about the details of her dramatic life.The patient takes a deep breath and, showing a lot of effort, manages to release the words, slowly, as if she were trying to experience and narrate at the same time.“In one of the dreams...” he whispers, after crossing his fingers and placing his elbows on his knees. At that moment, she changes her expression and continues with some reluctance: “... I see myself walking through a very beautiful field..., it looks like a park, similar to the ones we have here..., but not exactly one of them..., where..., where some mothers take their children to have fun. I notice that... there are toys..., slides, swings... A beautiful lake... where..., where I can see some of the mothers sitting on the lawn around..., serving treats, eac
The doctor finds her point of view relevant, so, without delay, he writes it down in his notebook, already with several enigmatic details about the patient.“Even though you are sure that everything is being recorded, when you check carefully every moment, do you still take notes?” She asks, confused.“These are observations and not your report. The observations have to do with your expression and posture... things that the voice recorder cannot capture... You can continue, ma'am...” he signals.“I understand... Well..., faced with this situation... very tense by the way... out of nowhere, I start looking reprehensibly at the horrified mothers. They are all crowded around me and..., it's as if I... demanded... without words... just with my gaze..., that they face 'my children' without prejudice...I behave as if I were proud with my monsters in my arms...” thoughtfully, she pauses again as if she were analyzing herself.“It is common for human beings..., after reluctance and, finally,
Regarding patient confidentiality, there was no doubt that the doctor would be completely trustworthy. That was one of the reasons she hired him. Only after making sure of this did, she undergo treatment, precisely with him.About that she was right. He took it so seriously that even students and colleagues believed he exaggerated. The names in patient records and charts were pseudonyms. And the notes, made by hand, looked more like hieroglyphics. As for the ribbons, they were as well guarded as they would be if they were gold.From the initial visit of that strange man, who revealed nothing more than his first name and remained locked up with Mrs. Rúbia, who still, inexplicably, had been avoiding her handsome husband for a long time, generated distrust among the servants.One of the maids couldn't contain her curiosity, especially when she accidentally heard some strange sounds coming from the room that she and the others described as “the room with the velvet bed”. And to feed the i
Eighth session, eighth week....Very close to “birth”As she takes a deep breath, Rúbia relaxes and decides to narrate, in a more succinct way, the second nightmare that constantly torments her.“In this..., the scenario is different...” she says, in a technical way. “I'm very young, like 15 years old and... I can even see my parents alive and happy... I'm mentioning this because they were very in love when I was very young. For the record, when I was a teenager, my father kind of avoided her. I even witnessed him say that it was her fault for her behavior... When he said that, what I found most strange was that she simply lowered her head, as if she really were to blame..." reveals Rúbia, somewhat confused...The doctor seems to find this information relevant, so he takes note of how the patient behaved when faced with this detail.After a pause, as if they were reflecting, she continues saying:“Going back to the dream..., I'm very young, about 15 years old and... I can even see my
Twentieth session, twentieth week.... It's a Friday and it's almost late afternoon... Weekends became the most tense and reflective moments for Rúbia, from the first emotional shock she experienced, to the present day. During working days, she tries to fill her time with business responsibilities, and this has become very effective. Even though she hates dealing with business, such routines have had the effect of transporting her to a world far from emotional reality, from intimate problems. However, something similar to a wad of cotton inside her gives the feeling that each tear contained makes her heavier and heavier. Being alive on a Monday was the same as surviving a battle. Once upon a time, as a child, weekends were the happiest and most anticipated days for her. Her parents had a good relationship with each other and always took her to the city parks. It was not for nothing that feelings were eating away at her, pushing her towards depression. Every day, life showed her wh