Therapist and Client -- The Reluctant

“This is where we met,” Ellen said as we walked around Lake Ella. I have found that movement is often a good way to begin a first therapy session. Ellen continued, “I was walking off a dose of self-pity because my playmates had gone away for the holidays. Anyway, I was walking along when this man ran up to me and, seeing my sweatshirt, said, ‘Western Carolina University, that’s in Cullowhee, isn’t it?’ I stopped dead in my tracks. Most people have never heard of Cullowhee, much less known how to pronounce it. We talked about twenty minutes before he asked if he could buy me a cup of coffee. Over coffee, we discovered that we had many things in common. We were both runners, private pilots, and loved to go boating and hiking. We even had a North Carolina connection. He owned a cabin located about an hour from where I had lived and gone to school.”
Ellen was a lively, elegant woman. With her red hair and green eyes, I could see how any man would be attracted to her. As we walked, Ellen continued talking as if stopping to take a breath would make her story disappear. “We talked about our interests, our philosophies of life, spirituality, and even our views on relationships. Before we parted, I asked him about his marital status. ‘Divorced for fifteen years.’ I even checked out his views on committed relationships. He was adamant that he never wanted to remarry, but he would like to live with someone in the future. He was so open and genuine with me that, when he asked if he could call me, I gave him my phone number. I don’t remember giving out my number to a man upon first meeting him.”
As Ellen talked about this man, her energy picked up and her speech became more and more animated. “He called me a few days later and we began seeing each other on a very limited basis, maybe once a week, sometimes two. He became my playmate. We would rollerblade, bicycle, fly, go canoeing or sailing his Sunfish. Whatever we did, we had fun. I didn’t think much about not seeing him because I certainly had little time to become too involved. I was still taking classes and struggling with a complicated statistics course. He even made me dinner and brought it to me one night when I was knee deep in statistics. ‘You have to eat, don’t you? What if I fix us both dinner and bring it to you?’ What could I say? That certainly endeared him to me.
“We began having sex after about six months, but I wouldn’t let him spend the night until it became almost time to go to his cabin in North Carolina for a long weekend. Still, I wasn’t getting too involved with him. He was great fun to be with, but I had a doctoral program to finish. He was very understanding whenever I needed to work.
“A recent physical in January revealed a nodule on his prostate; the diagnosis was prostate cancer. He came over the night of the diagnosis, and we knew we could get through this together. When I told him I loved him, he said that he’d been thinking that for awhile.
“The other night, he told me that he is still married,” Ellen said with eyes welling up and lips quivering. “I don’t know what to do. I feel hurt, angry and betrayed. I can’t leave him while he is going through this. What should I do?”
“What’s this man’s name?”
When she told me his name, my heart stopped and anger rose in my throat. “I’m sorry, I will have to refer you to another therapist. I am his wife.”