Most of us saw our therapists every day. Cynthia didn't; she had therapy twice a week and shock therapy once a week. And Lisa didn't go to therapy. She had a therapist, but he used her hour to take a nap. If she was extremely bored, she'd demand to be taken to his office, where she'd find him snoozing in his chair. "Gotcha!” she'd say. Then she'd come back to the ward. The rest of us traipsed off day after day to exhume the past.