A Clean Slate (Slate Estrada)

[Doctor Zendu]

Location: Belasco, Home Office and private practice of Doctor Robert Zendu

After flipping through the notes from his prior patient, a Rodian who was an unlucky combination of both hoarder and obsessively neat, Doctor Robert Zendu, M.D., licensed Psychiatrist, sipped a cup of herbal tea and looked over the file of his next patient.

Name: Slate "The Train" Estrada
Age: 32
Occupation: Sgt. Major in The Galactic Republic
Species: Human

Mr. Estrada had come to him seeking treatment for post-traumatic stress disorder, a common ailment among Republic military men and women. The man had also confessed to the Doctor that he was afraid he was going to "snap." This was a huge red flag that the man desperately needed help, and so the Doctor had expedited the Sargent to the high-risk patient list.

Doctor Zendu was confident in that in his capable hands and Hover sofa, the brave soldier would be able to take the first steps on the road to recovery.

Clutching Estrada's file closely to his chest, Doctor Zendu peeked his head out of his office and called his patient's name.

"Mr. Slate Estrada?"

[member="Slate Estrada"]

 

[Slate Estrada]

"Mr. Slate Estrada?"

It was time. Time to finally receive help for his post-traumatic stress. A friend had recommend treatment, and had also recommend the doctor he was seeing now. Doctor Zendu, a very respected psychiatrist. Before the incident at the firing range, only weeks before, Slate would've doubted he needed any help.

But now it was clear, he did need help.

Walking through the open door, Slate immediately noticed the Doctor alone in the room clutching a file. The man who stood before him was not what Slate expected. He looked almost inexperienced and innocent, how would he understand what Slate was going through? Holding out his well exercised hand, the soldier introduced himself.

"Slate Estrada. Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Zendu."

[member="Doctor Zendu"]

 

[Doctor Zendu]

Doctor Zendu smiled at the military man whose grip almost crushed his bones during their handshake. "First I must ask if you have any weapons on your person."

"If so, you'll have to stash them in a locker here in the waiting room." Titling his head at his patient with a thin-lipped grin, The Doctor pulled a keyring out of his pockets and jingled some keys. "They'll be safe in there, I promise."

"If not, then step into my office and have a seat where ever you like. Most of my patients prefer the Hover sofa. Reclining helps pacify the mind, they find."

[member="Slate Estrada"]

 

[Slate Estrada]

Weapons? Who did this man expect Slate to be? It was a strange concept that anybody would bring a weapon when seeing a psychiatrist. But then again, Slate didn't know what other types of people this man treated. "Nope, no weapons." The soldier announced, probably to the satisfaction of Dr. Zendu.

Following the doctor into the room, Slate inspected the surroundings. Like the doctor suggested, he took a comfy position on the Hover sofa. His body sunk into the soft material and a feeling of relaxation swept through his body. The now relaxed Slate took pride in the fact he was finally taking the treatment he needed, hopefully by the end he would be a changed man.

He now sat silently, waiting for the doctor to begin.

[member="Doctor Zendu"]

 

[Doctor Zendu]

The Doctor briskly joined his new patient in his office, and placed Slate's file on his obsessively neat desk. He picked up a little black notebook and grabbed a pen from the many in his front pocket and took a seat opposite the man.

"So tell me Slate," With a furrowed brow, Doctor Robert faced his patient with a tight-lipped smile that conveyed the utmost concern.

"What brought you to my office today?"

[member="Slate Estrada"]

 

[Slate Estrada]

"What brought you to my office today?" The doctor asked his patient in a welcoming voice.

Slate paused to think about his answer, the doctor already knew what was wrong but Slate just guessed that this was one of the first steps of recovery, acceptance. "Ughhh, post traumatic stress disorder. I think that's what it's called." He finally answered, staring at the ceiling of the room.

Eventhough they had just met, Slate felt comfortable around Doctor Zendu. He was willing to share as much information with him as he needed, as long as it would be contrabuting to his recovery.



[member="Doctor Zendu"]

 

[Doctor Zendu]

As he listened to Slate, the shrink slowly nodded his head, pausing only to scratch down some notes in his little black book.

"I can only imagine as a military veteran, you have seen and directly experienced many traumatic events. Tell me, do you often get nightmares or vivid flashbacks of these events? Do you feel anxious or jittery? Using drugs and alcohol? Feeling emotionally cut off from people?"

Holding his notebook in his lap, he leaned closer in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. "Is there one event in particular that's troubling you? Or is it an accumulation of your experiences? Sorry to barrage you with questions, but I'm just trying to a bigger picture of what's going on with you, Slate."

[member="Slate Estrada"]

 

[Slate Estrada]

The question the Doctor was asking seemed fair enough. Nothing too touchy yet.

"No, none of that..." Slate thought harder about his recent events, "actually yes, I do have rare nightmares and flashbacks about my experiences. I just expected they were natural." He admitted to Zendu.

As for the next questions, these were worst. He would have to recall the events, the experiences he had faced over his career. "I feel like it's because of my whole career. But there is one situation particularly." The battle for Coruscant. Just the thought of it flooded images of the bloody battle into Slate's head. Closing his eyes, he tried to halt the flashbacks. His face clearly showed the distress he was in.

[member="Doctor Zendu"]

 

[Doctor Zendu]

As he noticed the man's rising stress-levels, calming Slate down became priority number one for the Doctor. His patient was practically twitching on the Hover sofa. Doctor Zendu crossed to a cabinet, donned some rubber gloves, and prepped a rather large syringe.

"I can see you're in alot of distress, Slate. If you want, I can give you a light sedative to calm your nerves so that our therapy session can go more smoothly for you." He turned and tilted his head at the man. "Only with your permission of course. I promise it's mild."

He stood over Slate holding the syringe with a furrowed brow. "Either that or I could step out of the office and give you a moment to collect yourself. But I really recommend the sedative. It's a great nerve-soother." He chuckled lightly. "If I had my druthers, I'd put this stuff in the water."

[member="Slate Estrada"]

 

[Slate Estrada]

Slates's face scrunched up, as if he was in pain. His face got more distorted as the flashbacks intensified.

"Yes. Give me sedative." The soldier told the Doctor in a demanding and urgent voice. Usually, Slate would've objected to being stabbed with a syringe but his awaken nightmares were clouding his thoughts. "Pl-please, hurry up." Slate asked, still unsure if the Docotr had even inserted the syringe.

[member="Doctor Zendu"]

 

[Doctor Zendu]

Finding it was best to do these types of things quickly, the Doctor grabbed Slate's arm with a gloved hand and jabbed it with the needle. Soon, the opiates would wash into Slate's bloodstream, slowing his heart rate and filling his body with a mild euphoria. It wouldn't knock the man out completely, but would keep him lucid so that he could talk about his experience without so much emotional dissonance. Unless he had a bad reaction to it, of course. There was also a risk of addiction, but only after prolonged use.

The Doctor then snapped off his gloves and took a seat, lifting up his black book. He tapped on it with a pen. "Ok, then. Now maybe you can tell me more about this particular incident."

[member="Slate Estrada"]

 

[Slate Estrada]

He felt the slight prick as the needle entered his arm. He also felt the cold liquid beginning to travel throughout his arm. The images however did not stop, they continued flooding into Slate's head. After what felt like an aternity, the flashbacks faded, his body began to calm down. Soon enough the soldiers heart rate slowed down to normal and as he began, Slate's head was clear.

Now came the hard part. Explaining what he had seen. "The One Sith's invasion of Coruscant." He began, finally opening his eyes and turning to the Doctor, "It was the worst, bloodiest battle I had ever seen in my whole career. My outpost was completely destroyed in the blink of an eye, and all I could do was watch..." Before, Slate held back this anger. But now it was released. His hatred of the One Sith could almost be felt in the air.

[member="Doctor Zendu"]

 

[Doctor Zendu]

Doctor Zendu softly patted the soldier's arm and went back to his seat. He could see that the sedative working its magic. As Slate began describing the distressing events, he furiously jotted down notes, every now and then looking up to nod gravely. The psychiatrist couldn't imagine going through something like that himself.

"Ah yes, the Sith. A plague on the galaxy." Doctor Zendu didn't feel it pertinent to mention that some of his patients were Sith. He tilted his head at his patient inquisitively.

"Slate, tell me, do you feel any guilt about the incident? As if you were somehow responsible? Sometimes soldiers who survive their team members, feel very deep Survivor's Guilt. What are you feeling right now?"

[member="Slate Estrada"]

 

[Slate Estrada]

"I wasn't the only one to survive. I managed to extract my squad, but the rest perished..." Slate revered the screams and cried coming from his comrades, some no older than 18 years old. It was a truly disturbing scene. Slate felt like the Doctor would never understand the pain, the only ones who did understand were either dead or long since MIA. The soldier was glad that Dr. Zendu agreed with his opinion on the Sith. All they were was scum that murdered the innocent and stole from the weak, they all deserved to die.

"I haven't had much time to think abouts what's happened. During the day I try to keep myself distracted, but at night... I see flashbacks of what happened... Flashbacks of the deathly screams." Over that last few nights, Slate had taken a cocktail of medicines to stop these flashbacks, he could deal with the pain of them anymore.

[member="Doctor Zendu"]

 

[Doctor Zendu]

The doctor nodded patiently. With his thin hands folded neatly on his lap, he made a suggestion. "It sounds truly horrible, and you're courageous for even being able to talk about it today. The good news is, I believe that I can help you, Slate. What I'd like to do is teach you some grounding techniques so that when you slip into a disassociative episode, you won't lose your grip."

He stood up and crossed to a medicine cabinet, pulling out a small packet. When the doctor handed it to the man, a strong herbal scent emanated from it. "This is pure bachani extract. When you find yourself going into a flashback, lift this to your nose and sniff. When you smell something this strong it's hard to focus on anything else. It will ground you and pretty soon you will start associating the scent with reality."

"For the Maker's sake just don't try and smoke it. One of my patients made that mistake and ended up hallucinating for a week." The doctor guffawed loudly and inappropriately.

He sat back down in his chair and gestured to the packet. "Go ahead. Give it a try."

[member="Slate Estrada"]

 

[Slate Estrada]

Reaching out, the soldier took the small packet from the Doctor. The strong scent was apparent before Slate had even brought it close to his nose. He let out a slight chuckle at the comment about smoking the herb. Opening the packet, Slate took a peek into the bag. But before he was able to see anything, the strong smell assaulted his nostrils and travelled throughout his body. The distracting scent was only cut off when Slate closed the packet. As the flow was cut, he was launched back into reality and found himself in Doctor Zendu's office, slightly disorientated from the herb.

After shaking off the lost feeling, Slate looked to the Doctor. "There isn't any side effects of this are there?" He asked, quizzically looking at the small package of scented herbs. He couldn't see himself using the drug often, however if there were negative side effects it was unlikely he'd use it at all.

[member="Doctor Zendu"]

 

[Doctor Zendu]

The doctor shook his head vigorously. "There are only side effects for those poor souls who ingest it or smoke it which, as I said before, is not recommended. Sniffing it will not harm you in any way, I assure you. I'm afraid our hour is almost up for today, but I'm giving you a homework assignment." He pointed at Slate with his pen.

"Keep the bachani extract with you at all times. If you find yourself getting a flashback, sniff the packet. While taking a while to get used to, if you keep it up, it should begin to snap you back into reality. We can talk about additional grounding techniques during our next session."

The doctor clapped his notebook closed and stood up. "If you'd like I can write you a prescription for the sedative, too. But try sniffing the extract first and let me know how you fare."

The doctor gave the soldier a toothy grin and opened up his office door. "I hope you choose to continue your treatment with me, Slate."

"Until next time?"

[member="Slate Estrada"]

 

[Slate Estrada]

"I don't know Doc, been a while since I've done homework!" Slate laughed, feeling more relaxed than he was at the beginning of the session. "But I'll give it ago." Shoving the packet into his trouser pocket. Slate lifted his body from the hover sofa, ready to leave.

"I don't think a prescription will be necessary, The Galactic Republic Army should supple me with anything to improve my 'battle efficiency' " Even with the herbs in his pocket the scent still reached Slate's nose, slightly distracting him from the situation at hand. Slate would definitely be coming back to Doctor Zendu, he felt like the two had already connected and hopefully Zendu would be able to cure or improve his condition.

The soldier held out his hand as he walked towards the door where Doctor Zendu was standing, "Yes. Until next time." He smiled back to the doctor.

[member="Doctor Zendu"]