The Metal Detector

2006-02-09T11:49:57Z

Like many psychotherapists, I see patients in my home. Yesterday, after getting dressed, I left my bedroom, walked downstairs and found a metal detector blocking the entrance to my office. It looked just like the ones you see at the airport.
“I suggest you take off your shoes,” said the metal detector.
“I just want to go into my office. I have an appointment with a patient in a few minutes,” I said.
“Fine. But first you need to take off your shoes. And empty everything in your pockets into the tray.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
The metal detector completely filled the doorway, so there was no getting around it. I figured it was my own office, so I disobeyed and walked right through the metal detector.
My office filled with the sound of a shrieking siren.
“Halt! I need you to go through again.” yelled the metal detector.
I waited to see if the siren would stop, but the sound continued at an unbearable decibel. I walked through to the other side of the door and the siren stopped.
“Thank you. Please take off your shoes and empty your pockets.”
“Why are you here anyway? I asked.
“You need to be cleared.”
I took off my shoes, emptied my pockets and walked through. The metal detector was silent.
I sat down in my chair and asked, “So why are you here?”
“The name of one of your patients came up on our “no fly” list. This is just an added level of security. If there could be a problem on an airplane, there could be a problem anywhere, including your home office.”
“But how do you know it was my patient? That’s confidential.”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“So what happens now?” I asked.
“Anyone associated with anyone on the no-fly list is subject to increased security.”
“What does that mean?”
“We need to place you on the no-fly list too.”
“You mean I can’t fly anymore?”
“Or enter a government building. Or attend any functions with anybody in the government.”
“And every morning I have to go through this? And my patients have to go through this?”
“It’s for your own good. Therapists are sometimes terrorized by their patients. And once a therapist shot himself during a therapy session, doing irreparable psychological harm to his patient. I’m here to protect. That’s what I do.”
“I’d rather take the chance,” I told the metal detector.
“Yeah, until something happens. Believe me, it’s a small price to pay for being safe.”