Categories > Celebrities > AFI > A Thousand Scars
Several days after this conversation, Davey still had not called Andy. It wasn't because he had forgotten, but rather because not only was he worried he'd fail again, he was worried that he wouldn't know what to say when. He hadn't seen Ashley in that time, either. However, he decided to pull Ashley's file, just to see if there was anything that could point out to him what was the cause of all this shit.
When the doctors he worked for asked why, he said he wanted to know what, if any, previous treatments the patient had, and if his past doctor had written anything about his diagnosis, or anything to that effect. As a bonus, Davey said that if he didn't have access to that file, he may not be able to properly treat the patient. When he said that, they immediately said yes, any files he needed. After all, untreated patients would look bad upon the hospital, even if those patients were improperly treated instead.
So off Davey walked, to the records department. It was dusty, and ill lit, and the woman behind the desk looked old enough to be Davey's grandmother.
"Excuse me." He said, walking up to the desk. "I'd like to see a patient file." He laid his hospital ID on the desk.
"HUH? DID YA SAY SOMETHING? SPEAK UP!" The old woman bellowed, cupping a hand around an ear that had a hearing aid in it. Davey took a step back. The old lady was hard of hearing. But even so, it'd make him feel guilty to yell at an old person. Even if he was just yelling so they could hear him.
"I'd like to see a patient file, please." He said, in a somewhat louder tone of voice. "SPEAK UP!" She yelled again. Davey gave a sigh, before screeching, "I NEED A PATIENT FILE!"
The old woman picked up his ID, scrutinizing it, before giving it back.
"NAME?"
"PURDY!"
"SPELL IT!"
"P-U-R-D-Y!"
The old woman got up, shuffling over to a set of cabinets, rummaging through them, before pulling out 2 think manilla folders, shuffling over to the desk and dropping them onto the surface. The sheer weight of them made a loud thump. Davey scrutinized the name labels on both files. Maybe one was for a relative? They both read Ashley Purdy, (1984 - ). The singers eyes flew wide open. He expected to have a smaller file. He decided to take these to his shit hole of an office to read them. "THANKS!" he yelled, leaving with the large stacks of paper in hand.
How much of a record would Ashley Purdy have to have to have this much on him?
In his office, Davey opened one file. It started in 2005. Opening the other, he saw it began in 1994. He gulped. While he knew that Ashley had some demons in his past(who doesn't?), just like most of the musicians in the rock scene, he didn't expect the boy to be running from the full ranks of hell.
Most of the records were photocopies, and the doctor's writing was damn near illegible, fucking messy bastards. But from what Davey could read, sometime back in 1994, Ashley's mother had taken him to a psychologist, claiming him to be severely abusive, having violent moodswings, and severe anger issues and depression.
His mother, while in there, started bitching, as was recorded in the doctor's handwriting. She was " irate, speaking over her son...furious expression.... [insistent that ] there was something seriously wrong with her son...." Also recorded was her "answering for her son....refusing to look at the child....asking if they could medicate him, 'so she would not have to deal with it' [the child's supposed anger issues, depression, moodswings, abusive temper, etc. that she had brought the child in for]"
According to this doctor, she seemed "very self-centered, narcissistic.... insisting her son was a 'bad reflection of herself'.... that she was 'ashamed to have him meet people because of his behavior'....stated that she was 'uncomfortable to take him out [of the house], or to be around him in public'..."
Meanwhile, young Ashley "Sat passively.... did not exhibit any behavior the mother insisted he did... accepted whatever his mother said....made no move to correct her unless asked.... responded politely...presented his corrections [ to anything his mother said wrong when he was asked the same thing] in a logical and orderly manner.... maintained a calm demeanor...dressed neatly [step-father said that his son 'didn't normally dress this way', instead dressing 'like an emo freak'].... said he did not have anger management issues, depression, mood swings, etc., stated he was not abusive to his parents [mother interjected that he was 'a manipulative liar' at this point, pointed to examples from when child was 4-6 years of age, typical of temper tantrums of children that age]...
At the end, there was "No medications prescribed, family therapy suggested, follow-up scheduled with hospital therapist for following week."
Below this was a note, dated about a week and a half after the initial appointment was scheduled, 2 days after the family therapy was scheduled to take place. It read "Patient and family failed to show up for appointment. Attempts to reach parents were made. Calls were not returned. Messages not replied to. "
Just as Davey thought it was starting to heat up, that maybe Ashley wasn't as crazy as people thought he was, maybe there was a (very valid) reason he did what he did, that he was about to read a tale of a fucked up adolescence, told through doctors and therapists notes and hospital reports, his door opened, and the secretary that he shared with the rest of the doctors, save the few at the top, said, "Dr. Marchand, your first patient of the day is here."
When the doctors he worked for asked why, he said he wanted to know what, if any, previous treatments the patient had, and if his past doctor had written anything about his diagnosis, or anything to that effect. As a bonus, Davey said that if he didn't have access to that file, he may not be able to properly treat the patient. When he said that, they immediately said yes, any files he needed. After all, untreated patients would look bad upon the hospital, even if those patients were improperly treated instead.
So off Davey walked, to the records department. It was dusty, and ill lit, and the woman behind the desk looked old enough to be Davey's grandmother.
"Excuse me." He said, walking up to the desk. "I'd like to see a patient file." He laid his hospital ID on the desk.
"HUH? DID YA SAY SOMETHING? SPEAK UP!" The old woman bellowed, cupping a hand around an ear that had a hearing aid in it. Davey took a step back. The old lady was hard of hearing. But even so, it'd make him feel guilty to yell at an old person. Even if he was just yelling so they could hear him.
"I'd like to see a patient file, please." He said, in a somewhat louder tone of voice. "SPEAK UP!" She yelled again. Davey gave a sigh, before screeching, "I NEED A PATIENT FILE!"
The old woman picked up his ID, scrutinizing it, before giving it back.
"NAME?"
"PURDY!"
"SPELL IT!"
"P-U-R-D-Y!"
The old woman got up, shuffling over to a set of cabinets, rummaging through them, before pulling out 2 think manilla folders, shuffling over to the desk and dropping them onto the surface. The sheer weight of them made a loud thump. Davey scrutinized the name labels on both files. Maybe one was for a relative? They both read Ashley Purdy, (1984 - ). The singers eyes flew wide open. He expected to have a smaller file. He decided to take these to his shit hole of an office to read them. "THANKS!" he yelled, leaving with the large stacks of paper in hand.
How much of a record would Ashley Purdy have to have to have this much on him?
In his office, Davey opened one file. It started in 2005. Opening the other, he saw it began in 1994. He gulped. While he knew that Ashley had some demons in his past(who doesn't?), just like most of the musicians in the rock scene, he didn't expect the boy to be running from the full ranks of hell.
Most of the records were photocopies, and the doctor's writing was damn near illegible, fucking messy bastards. But from what Davey could read, sometime back in 1994, Ashley's mother had taken him to a psychologist, claiming him to be severely abusive, having violent moodswings, and severe anger issues and depression.
His mother, while in there, started bitching, as was recorded in the doctor's handwriting. She was " irate, speaking over her son...furious expression.... [insistent that ] there was something seriously wrong with her son...." Also recorded was her "answering for her son....refusing to look at the child....asking if they could medicate him, 'so she would not have to deal with it' [the child's supposed anger issues, depression, moodswings, abusive temper, etc. that she had brought the child in for]"
According to this doctor, she seemed "very self-centered, narcissistic.... insisting her son was a 'bad reflection of herself'.... that she was 'ashamed to have him meet people because of his behavior'....stated that she was 'uncomfortable to take him out [of the house], or to be around him in public'..."
Meanwhile, young Ashley "Sat passively.... did not exhibit any behavior the mother insisted he did... accepted whatever his mother said....made no move to correct her unless asked.... responded politely...presented his corrections [ to anything his mother said wrong when he was asked the same thing] in a logical and orderly manner.... maintained a calm demeanor...dressed neatly [step-father said that his son 'didn't normally dress this way', instead dressing 'like an emo freak'].... said he did not have anger management issues, depression, mood swings, etc., stated he was not abusive to his parents [mother interjected that he was 'a manipulative liar' at this point, pointed to examples from when child was 4-6 years of age, typical of temper tantrums of children that age]...
At the end, there was "No medications prescribed, family therapy suggested, follow-up scheduled with hospital therapist for following week."
Below this was a note, dated about a week and a half after the initial appointment was scheduled, 2 days after the family therapy was scheduled to take place. It read "Patient and family failed to show up for appointment. Attempts to reach parents were made. Calls were not returned. Messages not replied to. "
Just as Davey thought it was starting to heat up, that maybe Ashley wasn't as crazy as people thought he was, maybe there was a (very valid) reason he did what he did, that he was about to read a tale of a fucked up adolescence, told through doctors and therapists notes and hospital reports, his door opened, and the secretary that he shared with the rest of the doctors, save the few at the top, said, "Dr. Marchand, your first patient of the day is here."
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