2014

23 December, 2014


Peter Nifkin, PsyD, FACP, ABPP, ASPCA, PTA, BYOB
69 Grundle Lane
Choad, IA 50069

Dear Dr. Nifkin,

Per our conversation on 20 December, I am hereby requesting immediate inpatient treatment for a man under my care, Walter Thurman. As you may recall from our recent telephone consultation, the authorities apprehended Mr. Thurman on 17 December, wandering his neighborhood in a Cat-in-the-Hat costume, crying. When confronted, Mr. Thurman claimed to be the Whore of Babylon. Immediately thereafter he stripped down to his boxers and led police on a twenty-minute chase around his house while singing four songs from Sir Mix-a-lot’s excellent but underrated Seminar album. His BAC of .37 was both impressive and terrifying.

When I met him in his cell, his hangover appeared to be epic. I asked him to go through the events leading up to his incarceration, and as you can certainly attest, like most psychiatric patients he gave a rambling narrative covering most of his adult life.

From what I pieced together from this addled fog, his current issues began on 8 January of this year. His wife—a fellow physician held in high regard in our community—gave birth to twin girls. It was an emergency C-section several weeks before they were due. Mr. Thurman is said to have witnessed this event, which I believe has irreparably traumatized him. The children—Willa and Alexa—seemed perfectly normal when I encountered them, if not delightful. Mr. Thurman, however, kept referring to them as “the two horsewomen of the apocalypse” who “escaped the hellmouth on their journey to Hades.”

His mother-in-law, a Mrs. Sharon Boen, arrived shortly thereafter to assist Mr. And Dr. Thurman. Assorted relatives and friends also contributed time and effort to the endeavor, but nonetheless Mr. Thurman’s condition deteriorated. A few weeks after the birth, the family’s canine companion Daisy is said to have moved to a farm upstate where she could run and play without being assaulted by three young children. I attempted to ascertain the current whereabouts of said canine, but Mr. Thurman began twitching and repeating the phrase, “Peeka-boo, I see you.”

Mr. and Dr. Thurman have a third daughter named Zoe. When I tried to broach the subject, Mr. Thurman screamed, “Mickey Mouse dot com! Mickey Mouse dot com! No! I don’t want to!” Dr. Thurman assures me that Zoe is well, and seems to think her online educational program is named after a Disney character. At this point I grew concerned that Mr. Thurman’s mental imbalance might be hereditary. I shall monitor Zoe Thurman regularly to see if her condition also deteriorates.

I decided to visit the Mr. Thurman at home, to get a feel for what his life was like when he wasn’t incarcerated. Dr. Thurman met me at the door. She is not taking her husband’s breakdown well. She’s focusing on her own patients and the wellbeing of her children. She says it is a coping mechanism she utilizes to block out the horrors of Mr. Thurman’s decline. She says she has also begun reading Pride and Prejudice fan fiction. When I asked her why, she gave me a sly smile and muttered something about Colin Firth and a recurring daydream.

At this point Mr. Thurman grabbed me by the shoulder and dragged me into a hall closet. Once the door was closed, he continued his narrative, which seemed quite repetitious. He claimed to arise from bed each morning, feed and change the twins, cry himself to a near comatose state on the couch, feed and change the twins, put them down for a nap, attempt suicide by stuffing his head in the microwave, feed and change the twins, argue with a particularly obstinate local squirrel about nut futures, feed and change the twins, give the microwave another shot, feed and change the twins, then ultimately go to bed, claiming to be Luke’s father. In my interviews I have yet to come across anyone named Luke, but his heavy breathing and clenched fist made it seem very important.

He also claimed to be the host of a home improvement show on the DIY Network called Hammered. He showed me their main floor bathroom, which he claimed was a major part of episode one. It was nice, but then he began smiling a lot and pointing—at what one can only assume was an invisible cameraman—before saying, “And that’s what happens when you get hammered.” He then showed off a lovely kitchen island counter he installed with the aid of several neighbors. “As you can see, we fortified the island’s frame before gluing on the granite slab.” Another smile, followed by a wink. “We hammered the crap out of this thing. Smashed it but good.”

I recommended to Dr. Thurman that she take her husband on a holiday, to which she began laughing. This laughter turned quickly to wailing, followed by Dr. Thurman telling me I needed a time out in my room for arguing with Mommy. She soon snapped out of her trance, but I fear her husband’s condition may be sending her down the same rabbit hole.

I will e-mail you Mr. Thurman’s flight itinerary after I receive confirmation from your facility that he has been accepted for inpatient care.

Yours,

Johnson Taynt

Johnson Taynt, MD, FACP, LPGA, NTSB, OPEC

Ps— Mr. Thurman will be traveling with a ball gag in his mouth. It isn’t medically necessary, but it seems to calm him.

Pps— Have a Happy Holiday Season.