November 2000
Something is wrong with Josh. I know there is. We had a very nice Thanksgiving
dinner at C.J.’s last week. It was almost like the old days, except for the fact that he
was so still. The old Josh was constantly in motion, but now it’s like he’s afraid to
move or he’s conserving his strength for when he has to move. He seemed a little
calmer over the weekend. But this morning, he was blowing up all over the place
again; mostly at me. There are plenty of times Josh has given me shit about work. He
just does it to tease me or blow off a little steam. It’s part of our dynamic. He says
something sarcastic or cutting to me, I ignore him or tease him back depending on
the circumstances, we both go about our business, no harm no foul.
That’s not what this is. He’s been mean, nasty, and hurtful; a lot of it is directed at
me, but there’s plenty to go around too. It’s gotten so bad that people are starting to
avoid him and get out of the way when he comes barreling through hurling insults at
whomever he sees. I should probably clarify, lots of people were already leery of
Josh, again, this is different from that.
I’ve mentioned it to Sam and to Toby and while they admit to seeing some odd
behavior (odd for Josh that is) they keep saying he’s been through a lot and must
feel a lot of pressure to get back to speed on everything. Just give him some time,
they keep telling me. I even listened to them at first, but now I’m second guessing all
of us.
I’m sure he’s stressed. How could he not be? He’s missed months of work and must
feel out of the loop still. On top of that, his stamina isn’t what it used to be and he
gets very tired very quickly, but doesn’t want to admit it so I’ve had to resort to
creative scheduling. I get almost all of his appointments to come here.
I play the sympathy card with our friends, and the retribution card with our enemies.
Those calls are fun. They go like this, “Josh Lyman nearly died in the service of the
President and you expect him to wear himself out walking to your office when he’s
barely cleared to return to work? Sure I’ll send him over, along with a couple
reporters and photographers from the pool to show your constituents how you
behave on the hill.” Then they hang up in their haste to get over to the White House.
Even with all my adaptations to his schedule, and for his temper, things are getting
worse instead of better the longer this goes on. Toby and Sam don’t believe it’s
getting worse but they’re not tuned to him like I am. They think I’m just being overly
concerned, but I’m not. I know I’m not. I think I may have to kick this up a notch; that
means going to Leo. I’m hesitant to take that step because I know that no matter how
good my intentions are, Josh is going to see it as a betrayal.
“Donna!” His highness bellows.
“I’m right here. You don’t have to shout.” I say quietly, trying not to set him off again
today.
“Yes I do need to shout, Donna, or else nobody can hear me over the damn music!”
too late to keep him from blowing up again, I’m thinking.
“Most people don’t refer to holiday music as damn music.” I try to redirect him back
toward his office.
“It’s not ‘holiday music’ it’s Christmas music.” Josh continued to rant. “We go out of
our way to be so politically correct. Why is that? Why can’t we call Christmas music,
Christmas music? The President is Catholic, he celebrates Christmas. Why can’t we
all just admit that it is Christmas music giving me a pounding headache and not
Kwanzaa music, Chanukah music, or Jazz for God’s sake!”
I try to move closer to him so I can look at his eyes while he’s pacing back and forth
in front of me. “You have a headache?”
“Of course I have a headache. How could I not have a headache with all that noise
outside my door!”
“Josh….Josh!”
“What!” he shouts at me stepping right next to me so we’re practically nose to nose.
“The music stopped almost an hour ago.” I can see his eyes now, and if I didn’t know
better I’d swear he was on something. His pupils are dilated, and they look into mine
like there’s nothing behind them. Just as fast, he snaps out of it and resumes his
pacing.
“It shouldn’t have started in the first place is what I’m saying.”
“I think that-“
“Don’t.” He points his finger at me.
“Don’t what?” I ask.
“Don’t make excuses, don’t placate me, and don’t- just don’t pretend you think about
these things. Do your job, find the stuff I need for the meeting with Schneider and
get me a damn cup of coffee like the rest of the assistants do.” He drops into his
chair and starts a slow spinning circle in his chair.
My mouth is hanging open, so it takes a couple complete circles before I’m able to
close my mouth and turn to leave his office. “Get your own damn coffee, Joshua.
The ‘stuff’ for your meeting with Schneider is on your desk, right where I left it for
you. I’m taking the rest of the day off. I’m feeling sick.”
I slam his door behind me and start to gather my things, tears sliding down my face.
Not thirty seconds later, he follows me.
“Donna, wait. Please wait, I’m sorry.” He says like he accidentally stepped on my foot.
“I’m sorry too, Josh. I’m sorry you can’t control your temper and I’m sorry you’re
going to have to find a new whipping boy.” I manage to keep my voice calm.
“I didn’t mean it, Donna, I swear. I don’t even know why I said it! I-I just started talking
and all this stuff came out.” He seems a little panicked. “Please don’t go. I need you
here. I’m really sorry.”
“I’m really sorry I need to go. I need a break right now before I do or say something
awful back to you.”
“But you’re coming back tomorrow right?” He’s now walking backwards in front of me
while I walk quickly toward the exit. “You’re not quitting, right? I’m really sorry.”
“Josh, stop!” I put both hands out to emphasize my point. “I’m taking the rest of the
day. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I walk quickly around him and go straight home.
As upset as I am when I get home, something is bothering me about this whole
situation. Josh, my Josh doesn’t act like this, at least not with me. We had such a
wonderful moment at C.J.’s on Thanksgiving. I had told him I was thankful for him and
he told me he was thankful for me. I could see the truth in his words and I reveled in
the exchange. That Josh doesn’t do and say things that this Josh is doing and
saying.
So I turn on the computer and start doing research; it’s what I excel at. I start by
researching some of the symptoms I’ve seen in Josh lately; irritability, memory
problems, trouble concentrating and he startles easily. From staying with him I also
know he’s been having nightmares and he’s complained about not being able to
sleep. At first that’s what I thought this all stemmed from; lack of sleep but as I search
for a cause of all these symptoms one thing pops out at me: Post Traumatic Stress
Disorder.
I spend the rest of the day and evening putting together all the information I can find
about this disorder and the more I read the more I am convinced this is what is
troubling Josh. I’m distracted by my phone ringing throughout the day so Josh can
alternately beg my forgiveness and threaten me about getting back to work, on my
answering machine.
Around 9, I put together all the info and email it to Leo. Then I follow that up with a
phone call. Josh is going to be livid, but if I can’t get him some help, that will be the
least of my worries.
“Margaret, it’s Donna. I really need to speak with Leo…Yes, it’s urgent….Thanks
Margaret…Leo? It’s Donna. I know you’re very busy, but I need- Josh is in trouble
Leo….serious trouble…Will you please look at the email I just sent you? I’ve been
doing some research and I think you need to read it.” I wait silently, while he opens
the file and reads what I’ve put together for him.
“Jesus, Donna. Are you sure? It could simply be re-entry problems and he told me
himself he isn’t getting much sleep.”
“That’s one of the symptoms, Leo.”
“A symptom that could be explained by a hundred things. He’s been through a lot,
Donna.”
“He’s been through a traumatic event, Leo.” I huff out my impatience.
There’s a pause as Leo considers my words. I decide to press further.
“I know Josh, Leo, better than anybody in this building. He’s not okay.”
“This says PTSD is very difficult to diagnose, but you figured it out on your own
using the internet?”
“Stop it!” I shout in to the phone and immediately regret it. “Leo, I’m sorry. It’s just
that I’ve been telling people for weeks that something is wrong with Josh and
everyone keeps telling me it’s my imagination, or that I’m overprotective. It’s neither
of those things. Something is seriously wrong with him.”
“You mean besides the things that were seriously wrong with him before the
shooting, right?” He tries to break the tension with humor.
“Leeeeeohhhhh.” I whine.
“Okay, Donna, you’ve convinced me we need to take a close look at what’s going on
with Josh. I’ll get on it. And I’ll keep a closer eye on him.”
“You will? You promise?” I confirm.
“You think I’m lying to you?” he asks incredulously.
“You’re a politician.” I reply drily.
“Very funny.” Leo chuckled. “I promise, Donna. We’ll take care of him.”
“Okay, Leo. Thanks.” I hang up the phone feeling both stressed at how Josh is going
to react to us double teaming him, and relieved that someone believes me and will
help me take care of Josh.