Just Give Her a Barbecue Sandwich

Donika was a rather obese girl who was diagnosed as suffering from schizoid episodes. She'd have moments in which she'd tune out, fall back against a wall, slide to the floor, and start to shake. Her eyes would become wild and glazed as they took on a "thousand mile stare." Donika's skin was very dark, which accentuated the whites and craziness of her wide open eyes during her schizoid episodes. Moreover, the fact that her hair was usually a wild mess, like a patch of tangled weeds zigzagging frantically, made her appear even more mad.

My shift coworkers and I would handle Donika's schizoid episodes by allowing her to just ride them out. She responded to nothing else we tried, so we just let her episodes run their course, usually after about 15 minutes or so. That was our approach -- that is, until one day one of our coworkers on another shift told me to offer Donika a barbecue sandwich.

"A what?" I implored.

"A barbecue sandwich," my coworker, Teri, answered.

"Huh?"

"You heard me. She fakes those so-called 'schizoid episodes.' They're nothing but for attention."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Just try it the next time she has one of those schizoid episode. You'll see."

"Okay."

***

The next time Donika had a schizoid episode, I took Teri's advice.

"Donika, are you okay?" No response. Donika just shook and gazed vacantly as she sat on the floor with her back against a wall. "Donika, I've got a barbecue sandwich in the fridge. Would you like it?" Donika slowly looked at me with her wild saucer eyes. "Would you like a barbecue sandwich?" Donika gently nodded her head. "Well, come on then, let's go get it."

With a hand from me, Donika slowly rose from the floor and followed me to the unit fridge. There was no barbecue sandwich in it. There never was.

"Oh, sorry Donika, I must have eaten it and forgot. How about something else."

"Okay," Donika grunted.

I gave her a granola bar, which she proceeded to wash down with a small carton of milk.

"So, it appears that food snaps you out of your schizoid episodes, eh?"

"Sometimes."

"Of course."

***

At some subsequent point in the future, one of my coworkers confronted Donika with the irony that food can cut off her schizoid episodes. After that, we simply ignored her schizoid episodes as much as possible. They escalated for awhile, but soon receded when she received no further edible sympathy from us. And to this day, I can't eat a barbecue sandwich without thinking of Donika.

********

© 2007 David Lee Cummings