About the good Doctor F.

Dr. Frankenthaler has proclaimed that after 12 fortnights of hypnotic therapy, I have made a breakthrough! He would not divulge to me the nature of the breakthrough; when I made a feeble inquiry, he merely stroked his straggly beard, continued to jot in his ledger-book, and grumbled in his Teutonic dialect, "Hmmm....Perhap a mere 182 fortnights remain in your hypnotic treatment. By zen I believe we shall have made real progress. Good-day, Miss Seezinbottom."

Dr. Frankenthaler never looks me in the eye, or so I assume: a lady of my stature must never look at a distinguished psycho-analyst anywhere other than his wrists.

A day of modern psychiatric treatments

During a recent hypnosis session with Dr. Frankenthaler, it seems I mentioned the shocking scene I witnessed at the lowly jass-hall. Dr. Frankenthaler, a colleague of Dr. Freud himself, is opposed to sharing with me the revelations I confess to during hypnotherapy, believing my statements to be his intellectual property. However, he was intrigued by my admission of having personally heard jass music. He inquired where he might listen to such music. I gave him an approximate address and asked whether viewing such a depraved sight may have contributed to my breakdown. He murmured that the precise causes of my condition can only be determined after many grueling months or even years of hypnosis and various other therapies.

The rest of the therapeutic session passed as usual; I endured hydrotherapy to assuage neurasthenia and vibration therapy to remedy congestion of the genitalia. Dr. Weißmüller assures me that the vibratory treatment will no longer be necessary once Horace and I have consummated our marriage.

Ah, the treatments I must endure to be well again!





A sampling of my gruesome treatments.