The Transcendence of Transitional Objects

 

He's a middle aged man with gray streaks in greasy hair, smudged glasses, a bit of a paunch, and lying in a hospital bed.  The medical chart indicates he carries the diagnosis of "Schizophrenia" and other superficial details that tell me little of the man.  I am surprised to find he is talkative and eager to engage, not typical for someone so labeled.  I notice something peculiar.

He shares his bed with two teddy bears he has brought from home.  His voice and mannerisms are childlike and in sync with the company he keeps.  I begin my interview with an observation,  "I see you have some friends with you".  He lets me know that his mother discouraged him from bringing them to the hospital, "but I'm lonely and they help me feel good."  I nod sympathetically.

He takes one of the bears and hugs it tightly with his eyes closed.  "When I feel bad or lonely I do this and say 'please hug me Jesus through this teddy bear' and I believe He does."  There's a disarming directness to it.  I then remember his chart mentioning "terminal cancer" and tears well up threatening my composure, leaving me lost and looking for a transitional object of my own.

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