Jo’s life must have looked for all the world like the perfect life. Why would anyone doubt that? She was a primary care physician dealing almost exclusively in the area of women’s health. That was something other women admired and aspired to. Her clinic was in Redondo Beach, a smart neighborhood in LA that was once grimy and unloved, but had seen money move in when property prices hit the roof in the late 1990’s. Fortunately for Jo, she purchased her office just prior to the boom, something that allowed her to worry less about money and more about her patients, which is where she felt most comfortable.
Jo was also beautiful, in a strong and athletic way. Unlike her sisters Cynthia and Sarah, she had a certain striking quality, but not an instantly recognizable feminine one.
She should’ve been on top of the world, making choices about her life that would only lead to more happiness. Looks can be deceiving however. It’s dangerous to think that just because someone looks as though they have it all, that they must be happy. The world was littered with the remains of those who should’ve had it all, but instead wound up wondering where all their hope and potential had gone.
Although Jo should’ve had it all, she didn’t.
She took a break between patients, looking out of her 3rd floor window to Redondo Beach below. What she saw were people down on the sand below, exercising their hearts out, as though they were desperate to hang on to their looks and maybe their health. Jo’s pensive mood made her think about where these people must’ve been in their lives. Were they people like her? Professional women with relationship trouble, feeling like they were passengers on a ship with no fixed destination? Were those women (and they were mostly women) happy? Somehow Jo doubted it, knowing the same kinds of stories that often graced her own consulting room. No, these were women that seemed to be caught in a life that was leading them, not the other way around.
These were thoughts that flashed through Jo in an instant, leading her to think of what she loosely termed a “relationship” with Jeff, her on-again, off-again boyfriend of the last three or so years. Why was she still seeing Jeff? Even Jo herself no longer knew, let alone any of those around her. It was another one of those situations where Jo felt led, instead of doing the leading herself. It was a situation that she knew was crucial to change if she was to be truly happy, though changing it was altogether a different matter.
Why was she having an existential crisis today of all days? She surveyed her waiting room, noticing that he faux-suede chairs had begun to be populated by mostly ageing women with probable menopausal symptoms. She didn’t think she could deal with one more introspective woman wanting to debate the importance of her gynecological symptoms. She was having trouble with her own life right now, and didn’t have the energy to deal with someone else’s.
God, why was she demoralized like this all of a sudden? She used to love her work. When she first set up her women’s clinic in Redondo Beach, it was something truly innovative for the area. Women flocked to her practice from all over the county to see a doctor who was genuinely interested in helping them. The encouragement and praise that her patients gave her was like a positive cycle propelling her to provide ever better care to these women in need. Like Jeff, however, she was slowly beginning to realize that perhaps she’d started giving too much of herself to everyone, leaving preciously little behind for herself. That was a big part of the problem.
She used to be a woman who had fun and was interested in things, who saw the lighter side of quite tragic situations and could laugh not only at herself but at the way the world functioned (or didn’t). That was a really healthy way to be. That was something that Jo wanted to get back to, but at this point in her life, she didn't know how to find the way.
“Let’s look at reality, girl”, she said to herself out loud. “I’m 36, and I’ve wasted the last three years seeing Jeff in a relationship that was not only going nowhere, but sending me backwards. What the hell is going wrong?”
Oh sure, she’d endured several other “relationships” of short duration since she and Jeff had broken up (though Jeff seemed convinced that they were still together), but these were mostly liaisons that Jo felt the need to engage in, so that she didn’t find herself “out of practice”. There were a couple of more senior physicians who took an interest in her, particularly after realizing that she’d recently become available and was therefore an easy catch, but that was exactly the way Jo saw their intentions, which meant that those relationships were destined to go nowhere.
In any case, Jo thought most physicians were actually quite boring, more interested in test results and the bottom line of their practices than actually letting someone else into their lives. This was Jo’s perspective on it anyway, and maybe she was the one with the problem. She’d become so used to being critical of others lately, that she wasn’t sure anymore if her assessment of people was accurate or whether it reflected her own discontented state of mind.
She hated it when she got into these kinds of moods. Indecisive. Unable to make choices about anything in her life and absolutely terrified of making the wrong decision. It was probably the reason that she’d stayed with Jeff for as long as she did. Better the devil you know!
Seeing her now, most of her friends would probably have told her she should go back and see her therapist. Talk it out with him. It’s true, she was more depressed now than a year ago when she’d stopped seeing Dr Rubin, but was returning to see him going to make that much of a difference? She wasn’t sure. Besides, her best friend Paul was a therapist and they’d often talk about how her life was moving (or standing still) on many occasions. He wasn’t sure that she was truly ready for therapy, despite the time already spent with Dr Rubin. He figured that there came a time in people’s lives when they were ready to move forward, and that therapy helped them to do this. Given Jo’s repetitive patterns in relationships, he figured she still had some time to go before reaching that point. In any case, his own approach to making life better usually involved getting a new boyfriend, a strategy that may have worked for him, but usually landed Jo in even greater trouble.
Unfortunately for her however, she’d previously followed Paul’s advice on many occasions, but that had never led her to the point that Paul always seemed to get to. She was beginning to wake up to the fact that perhaps gay men and straight women were as different as men and women generally, and that henceforth she should really ignore all advice Paul offered to her, no matter how well-meaning it may be. Men seemed to be ruled by their penises, regardless of their sexual orientation.
Again, her indecisiveness was frustrating the hell out of her. Should she work it out on her own? Should she see Dr Rubin? Her internal battle was interrupted with the screeching sound of an intercom buzzer. Jo’s secretary Krystle buzzed frantically while Jo was contemplating all of this. The next patient had arrived, and Krystle buzzed again. “Jo, I’m your secretary. I’m here to make sure you see the patients. I’m here to make sure you run on time, and get out of here on time. It’s gotta be done, Jo. You’ve got 15 seconds”. The buzzer clicked out. Strange, but Jo respected and almost always responded to Krystle’s barking commands. It made her feel cared for, in a way, and that was probably the thing that she most often missed. From almost everyone around her.
“Great”, Jo thought sarcastically to herself, as the door opened. It was Mrs Kreft, a thin woman with a self-diagnosis of Candida and numerous other “allergies”. Jo smirked to herself, realizing that her practice had become far too predictable for her. She practically knew exactly what Mrs Kreft would be saying today. It was the same thing she’d said to Jo on the previous four consultations, of that she was absolutely certain. It was bound to involve burning, bloating and headaches. Guaranteed. She took her into her room, raising her eyes skyward, as if looking for inspiration that was probably never going to arrive. As she did so, she caught Krystle’s eye and both of them smiled knowingly to one another.
The remaining occupants of the waiting room did their best to ignore one another in classic LA style, peering at each other from behind their magazines in a way that made it obvious to Krystle. She was sure each of them was dying to know what everyone else was coming to see the doctor about, again in classic LA style.
As Krystle observed this in a millisecond, a buff Fed-Ex delivery driver entered the clinic carrying a document-box sized parcel. Krystle practically fell over herself to attend to him.
“Hello, can I help you with anything?”, she said with a voice pitched way too high. She flicked her blonde hair to the side as she did this, raising the eyebrows of one of the crustiest patients waiting nearby. The remnants of Krystle’s Catholic school upbringing were clearly in evidence as she embarrassingly fawned over the delivery guy who barely seemed to notice her.
Ed (his lapel badge proudly proclaimed this) simply handed over a Fed-Ex envelope addressed to Dr Jo Sweeney, offering Krystle a palm pilot onto which it appeared Krystle was expected to sign her name. That transaction completed, the man left the office, leaving Krystle to burn with curiosity as to its contents. She was also a little annoyed that he didn’t stay any longer to chat, as if he had nothing better to do!
The package itself was not so surprising, except that its sender appeared to be a law firm based in Athens, Greece. Jo was often invited to conferences and other medical gatherings, some of which were in Europe, but the packages for those were usually startlingly emblazoned with prescription drug logos on them, and they most definitely did not arrive with the return address of “Messrs Kanellopoulos & Siris, Attorneys of Athens”.
It took another two hours before Jo could get to the item herself, dealing firstly with Mrs Kreft and her Candida problem, and then followed by a string of women who remarkably all presented with the “problem” of unfulfilled sexual lives. Jo felt like screaming at them “at least you have a sexual life, what are you complaining about?”
When she finally finished her last patient of the day, she walked out to Krystle, picked up the package which she knew was waiting and quickly drank the Diet Coke which Krystle had thoughtfully poured for her.
“Krystle, where do you want to be when you’re forty? I don’t mean Los Angeles, I mean in your life?”
Krystle looked at her a little puzzled, but at the same time, despite her twenty four years and her naïve ways, Krystle had a strange wisdom about her. Her mother was an ardent Dynasty fan in the 1980’s and unfortunately Krystle had to endure the ignominy of being named after one of its main protagonists. Perhaps this is what gave her that sense of insight and perception: a name fitting its pedigree.
“Jo, strange as it may sound, and despite the fact that you have a university degree and earn a lot of money, I don’t want to be where you are in sixteen years time. You aren’t happy.”. Jo looked a little puzzled, but mostly deflated, realizing that Krystle had hit the nail square on the head.
“Yes, you can be great fun and I respect your skill and your position. I love working for you, you’re a great boss. You aren’t happy, though. I can see that. I don’t want to be like that- I want to live my life and not have it lived for me”. She paused. “You asked me Jo. Sorry”.
Jo knew exactly what Krystle meant. She was always trying to please others, even though at times she portrayed this façade of independence and assertiveness. Two years of therapy some time back with Dr Rubin had certainly made her aware of the many issues that went to make up Jo Sweeney, but changing those parts she didn’t like about herself was altogether a different story. Perhaps Paul was right. She wasn’t ready to change- yet.
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