The Doctors' Tic
![Image](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijFpsA8uTsUb30LrXy4Pudkos6WeD9oijP-qfx5GIu3xdwiN3HL4AvtFEhL1ib8B6CkKxuHv0IF8iSL3_h5QjWPx1DVv623StImGVGLEyx5b-QMOkhvpK1I3or0q8wmyCp24WFKn6Twrihl3wt9nyp5bsX59fcJTQFEuMmIQxTAi2J3AOO9WRDdCFvlQ/w417-h313/brain-g444f2b9c4_1280.png)
In the beginning, when I was starting out with one on one therapy sessions in a polyclinical setting, I lived in abject fear of being put on the spot for some clever feedback. I felt the patient was waiting for a one-liner that would summarize all of their problems and provide the solutions to them in one big swoop. Just like in the movies. I felt pressure to provide something that would give immediate relief, something the patients could hold in their hand on their way out. Then I would be able to check it off my list, like the neurotic overachievers we doctors all are. I would sort of rush through the patient history questionnaires apologetically (in psychiatry it does go on rather). It felt wrong to ask so many questions; as if I hadn't payed proper attention to begin with. I sat tensely at the edge of my seat, ready to swerve any expectation I couldn't meet, and often went into long tirades of psychoeducation to prove myself. I would be only too happy to prescribe antidepre