My mouth dropped open as I gaped in surprise at Doc. It was clearly not what I had been expecting. A psychiatrist? Me? Surely, he was only joking.
Recomposing my expression, I shook my head at him. "You must be kidding me Doc, right?" Yet the grave look that Doc gave me back in return made me confirm my fears. "Well I'm not going to any."
"You will have to Thomas. You need to learn to control your emotions, to deal with them so they don't reflect on your health in a bad way. A few good therapy sessions would do, and you'll be fine."
"I don't need anything. I can take care of myself!" I half-shouted in frustration. I wasn't mentally insane so why was he making me feel that way?
"You call having a bad heart taking caring of yourself?" Doc's voice rose up considerably, but he took a deep breath before crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking at me sternly.
"I've already contacted a close friend of mine, Dr. Jensen and he's agreed to see you, free of cost."
"I'm not a cheapsk-"
"I expect you," he interrupted me, a warning in his tone, "to go."
And that was the last thing Doc said to me before sorting through some files on his desk, continuing some work as if I wasn't even in the room. Suppressing the irritation that bubbled inside of me, I stood up abruptly the chair screeching against the floor and walked out, slamming the door loudly.
How dare he? How dare he suggest I need a shrink. I didn't need anyone to help me! I was fine! And I did well enough on my own for the past half of my life. Surely, I could deal with the rest of it.