A boy with anorexia since the age of five? I had worked with many a young person carrying this most frightening of diagnoses, but an eight-year-old with a three-year history? Incredulous and in trepidation, I picked up the phone. Lizâs voice began to crack as any loving parentâs would as she told the tale of how ordinary childhood worries had slowly become more extreme and then assumed the voice of anorexia. Her motherâs sorrow rose above and beyond her words as she described how Wilbur, desperate to shed weight from his already slender frame, had begun to run in circles around the dining room table after meals until he dropped to the floor in exhaustion. Despair attended her sorrow as she told me that Wilbur had also talked about taking his own life.
Session One
It was 11:03 am. My mobile rang:
Hi Kay, this is Liz, Wilburâs mum. Iâm really sorry, weâre running late. Wilbur didnât want to come. Heâs saying thereâs nothing wrong with him and he doesnât want to meet you. Weâve been fighting to get him into the car. Weâre on our way now though.
I had already been approaching our meeting with some trepidation, wondering whether I might be able to help Wilbur and this family, so the news of his reluctance unnerved me more. I gathered myself as a professional athlete might do when, minutes before an important game, the teamâs best player has had to withdraw due to injury. The spring sun had blessed Auckland early this year and the day was unusually warm. I went downstairs from my upstairs office to the kitchen, took four glasses from the cupboard and set them ready on the counter. I heard the door click open. I crossed the waiting room, hand-outstretched, as is my way of greeting reluctant young people. I met Wilburâs eyes as he hesitated at the entrance.
YOU MUST BE WILBUR, good to meet you. You must be hot after your journey! Would you mind helping me get some water for everyone?
I glanced fleetingly towards his parents to signal my welcome. On the strength of Wilburâs nod, I ushered him through to the kitchen, and placed two of the glasses I had already filled in Wilburâs hands.
Wilbur, would you mind carrying these upstairs for your parents? You go up and Iâll tell you which door to go through when we get there.
Wilbur unwittingly led us up the stairs to our session. I followed closely behind him keenly aware that any moment he might think better of it.
Hey Wilbur, how about you put the glasses on that table over there, one on each side for your parents and then how about you sit here.
I leant down and picked up my basket bulging with richly colored pencils.
Wilbur, have you ever seen pencils like this before? Have you ever seen colors so bright?
I made a few rough strokes on the butcherâs paper I also had to hand. Wilbur stared at the bright strokes ripping across the page. He sank onto the cosy carpet in front of the table.
Wilbur, you can draw as much as you want if you feel like it. How about you listen in as I talk to your parents and just let me know if there is anything you want to say.
Wilbur nodded, as if in a trance, pencil already in hand. Liz and Doug took their seats and looked expectantly towards me. Aware that unless I found some antidote to Wilburâs understandable reluctance, the meeting could be over before it had started, I gleaned my opening words from similar conversations with other young people who also had revolted against the idea that something might be wrong with them:
Before we begin, I need to make sure that you havenât come to the wrong place.
Doug and Liz looked at one another, then back at me, somewhat bewildered.
Let me explain⌠sometimes when young people are brought along to meet with me, they get the idea that thereâs something wrong with them and that I am here to help fix them. Very often this is not what parents think, but somehow young people get this idea. I donât expect you think thereâs anything wrong with Wilbur that needs fixing, although I appreciate that you are here because you are worried about him. I want to be sure that you know that I am not a kid fixer. I wouldnât want you to be talking to the wrong person.
Through the corners of my eyes, I could see that, while Wilburâs eyes were fixed on the paper, his ears were keenly tuned to my words. Liz and Doug looked baffled. This would certainly not be the opening they had expected. A knowing glance passed between them as they seemed to make the link I had hoped they would make to the phone call a few minutes earlier.
Liz exclaimed, âIt sounds like we are in the right place then, because we certainly donât think Wilbur needs fixing.â
Doug joined in, âAs you said, we are all here together to help. These are not just Wilburâs worries; they are all our worries as a family.â
Now that the way was clear, I proceeded.
Liz and Doug, even though I know we are here to talk about what is worrying you all, will it be alright with you if we put that aside for a few minutes? I ask this because I find that worries often try to take over my conversations with people. As if itâs not enough to worry people in their own homes, those same worries try to gate crash into this room and take over. If itâs okay with you, I would like to know a little bit about Wilbur and his life when the worries are not around. I have a strong feeling that I may be able to discover some things about Wilbur that we can use together to pit against these worries.
Liz paused, then let out a bemused âsure.â Doug looked at me, as if hoping I knew where I was going.
Wilbur, is it alright with you if I ask your parents some questions about you for a few moments?
Wilburâs eyes immediately snapped away from his drawing and locked on mine. As he stared at me with an imperiousness more usual in a courtroom, I became very aware that this young man did not suffer fools gladly.
If you want, you can just listen in, or you might just want to keep drawing.
Wilbur hesitated, and then gave me a solemn nod of consent before turning his attention back to the paper.
Liz and Doug, can you please tell me what you think I will come to appreciate and respect about Wilbur if I come to know him as well as you do?
Liz replied eagerly.
Well, Wilbur is great at thinking out ideas. He thinks of things I would never think of in a million years. Sometimes I just sit with my mouth open in amazement when I hear about some of the inventions he has come up with.
Could you tell me a story about one of these inventions that Wilbur has thought up?
Liz quickly told me of Wilburâs plans to make a new form of remote controlled lightweight hovercraft which would rescue people at sea. I was about to ask more about Wilburâs intentions to rescue people with his hovercraft when an excited voice cut through my thoughts.
I would send my hovercraft out when the waves were big so I could help the life-savers.
Quick to make the most of this opportunity, I changed tack.
Wilbur, do you mind if I ask you a question about how you would get your hovercraft out to the people that needed saving? I know about as much about hovercrafts as I do about Rugby and thatâs not much at all.
I know lots about Rugby.
Do you? Do you play too or do you just like knowing about rugby?
Before he had a chance to answer, my eyes were alerted to a large number 12 on the back of his shirt â a rugby jersey!
Hey Wilbur, is that a rugby jersey?
Wilbur proudly nodded.
Can I ask you what team itâs from?
Wilbur looked at me sidewise, perhaps finding it hard to believe that a sentient being would not recognize an Auckland Warriors rugby jersey.
âItâs a Warriorsâ jersey!â he said indignantly.
Hey, Iâm sorry Wilbur, you must think I am stupid. Do you just like the Warriors, or do you like other teams too?
Wilbur relaxed as he began to take up his role as rugby educator.
I like the Titans, the Bronchos, the Cowboys, the Chiefs, the Crusaders and rhe Blues.
Hey, does that mean you donât like the All Blacks then?
A momentary look of scorn crossed Wilburâs face.
No, he said with scathing disdain, of course I like the All Blacks!
Your mum said earlier that you are good at remembering a lot of things. Would you mind telling me a little bit about what you know about rugby?
I know about Ben Matulino, and Simon Mannering.1
Really?
I know about lots of other sports too.
Like what?
Well, I know a lot about tennis and fencing because I play those, and I do hip-hop too at school, and swimming so I can be a life saver when I grow up. And I want to play cricket and basketball, and golf, and soccer.
Liz chipped in.
Wilbur loves sport and he wants to do all of them. He loves music too. He plays the guitar but wants to start the piano and the flute. We have to tell him that he just canât do t...
