The Bronze Cast. Pam Stavropoulos

of her shirt, albeit invisible under a bandaid) likely darkens in sympathy. Or is it malignancy.

      `Yes’.

      `Are they working?’

      `Well – ‘

      Are they? It’s hard to tell. The blemish is changing in composition. Although it doesn’t seem to be diminishing in size.

      `Shouldn’t you go back to that dermatologist?’

      `His only option was to cut. It’s not a melanoma, so there’s no rush. And there are other possibilities for treatment’.

      She can tell Diane’s forthrightness stems from concern. So tries to check the annoyance she feels. She is also surprised by the number of her women friends who endorse the surgical remedy so blithely. Since it would leave a permanent scar in a visible and delicate place, why wouldn’t she (wouldn’t they?) want to canvas alternatives?

      But she also represses annoyance with herself, and even shame, for thinking of the effects on her appearance.

      In a world of injustice she is worried about the cosmetic effects of minor surgery to erase a skin cancer! She should be so lucky. A glimpse of the evening news a week ago had featured amputations, without anaesthetic, on children in a refugee camp.

      `As long as you keep an eye on it’.

      `Oh, yeah, I am’.

      Which she is, although with a kind of detachment. Perhaps she is less motivated by unexpected and disconcerting vanity than by disbelief that she has developed the thing at all. She had lain in the sun a lot years ago. And often without sunblock (so did a lot of people; that was what you did back then). Blithely ignorant of the potential impacts.

      Who more than Australians would be obvious candidates for skin cancers? But she is also at the tail end of a generation that had genuinely lacked knowledge of the risks. Like smokers of a previous era (will mobile phones be incriminated in years to come?)

      She’s lucky it’s not a full scale melanoma. Actually she is lucky she doesn’t have an internal cancer, given her high stress levels of an earlier period.

      `I kind of like the idea of natural treatment if at all possible’.

      Centuries of Chinese healing as against the western scientific tradition of slash and burn. She knows that’s over the top. But partially subscribes to it anyway.

      Another vision of Shen rises before her eyes; she has to banish it quickly before her next client arrives.

      `See you later on’.

      Later in the afternoon she meets with her supervisor.

      She has never liked the authoritarian, hierarchical connotations of that word. Or are they her own attribution (or, as would be more applicable in light of her particular counselling modality, her own projection?) At one level the term `supervisor’ describes a simple organizational reality.

      Even as few things about the workings of institutions are ever simple.

      In any case, the role it refers to in the context of her particular profession is an important one. In working with the psyche - the delicate elusive terrain of feeling, emotion and subjectivity - it is crucial to download and debrief with a more senior practitioner. Counsellors owe it to their clients - and in a different way to themselves - to scrutinize their practice with a more experienced therapist. Who, because not themselves directly engaging with the clients of their supervisees, can offer a different perspective.

      Her own supervisor is far from hierarchical in approach.

      Meetings with Robert have the flavour of collegial conversations rather than of exposure to scrutiny. She does not feel intimidated. In this, as so much else, she has been lucky.

      `How are you doing with your clients? And do you have any new ones?’

      Robert’s opening questions convey his trademark interest and empathy.

      `Actually I do’.

       Maybe I should start right there.

      `His name’s Ryan. Late thirties, maybe forty. I’ve only seen him once. And I think he’ll be challenging’.

      `Oh yes?’

      Robert’s eyes gleam softly behind his glasses. While he exudes affirmation, the nature of their meeting also precludes complete relaxation.

      For this is not a casual conversation. It is a professional interaction in which her modus operandi is necessarily under consideration. Notwithstanding his affability, and ongoing feedback that shows his support of her both as a colleague and as a person, his supervisory role means that Robert is also appraising her professional practice.

      That is as it should be. He is also an extremely nice person towards whom she feels affection as well as admiration. And - her training as well as her personality means that she has to admit it to herself – some glimmers of attraction.

      Which lends additional components to the dynamic between them. Complicating at one level, they are enabling at another.

      The early psychoanalytic days in which `objectivity’ was regarded as desirable, and even possible, are long past. The hint of attraction she feels to her supervisor is a different inflection of the feelings (the `transference’) that clients have to their therapists.

      It is the stuff of interaction. And if engaged with responsibly, the stuff of healing.

      No one is a `blank slate’. We all react to one another on the basis of our previous relationships and experiences, according to our personal histories. But if a therapist oneself, ongoing supervision is critical. Clients are vulnerable as well as paying customers. And entitled to competent, ethical service from practitioners who are alert to their own inner fluctuations, complexities, and potential blind-spots. In which task supervisors can assist immeasurably.

      Her positive feelings towards her own supervisor – in which elements of attraction co-exist with personal liking as well as professional respect – are thus not necessarily `obstacles’ to his appraisal of her client work. There are senses in which they also enhance it. At the most obvious level (in a profession in which so much is not!) Robert’s desire for her to be an effective therapist accounts for her heightened attunement to what he can offer in this regard. Yet the dynamic – as all dynamics in this field – need to be approached with care. So she is always on her mettle.

      His quiet but expectant question (oh yes?) hangs in the air.

      It is his style as well as his role to place the onus on her.

       What can I say about Ryan at this point?

       That his need seems to rival his diffidence?

       That he shows few signs of any faith in the therapeutic process?

       That I hope he’ll come back?

       All of that.

      `I know people are often ambivalent in a first session. But he seems especially so. If I’d been running behind time he may have bolted. Looked like the last place he wanted to be was in the waiting area. Let alone my office when I shut the door’.

      She doesn’t expect immediate comment.

      And she doesn’t get it.

      `Once we got started – well, getting started at all was hard. He was verbally uncommunicative. It seemed much more than the usual male reticence. Although –‘

      She pauses, considers.

      `I didn’t sense any hostility or conscious desire to withhold. He was almost apologetic. And he had a wry sense of humour’.

      Saying this aloud helps her to realize its truth.

       How do I know what I think until I hear what I say?

      Sitting in front of her supervisor,