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The stairs are a killer with the extra weight I’m carrying, but if I can dodge the other faculty members – particularly Sue Scanlon – and nurse my wounds in private, it’s worth the effort. In the middle of the second flight of stairs, I hear shallow breathing. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dim stairwell lighting and see Larry Lee Hallowell standing on the second floor landing, his back pressed flat against the wall, as though he wants to render himself invisible. How long he’s been there is anyone’s guess. Mr. Hallowell, a Legal Aid Clinic client, is in his late-thirties. He has a buzz cut and wears flip-flops, shorts and a faded 4-H T-shirt. He never takes the elevators due to panic attacks coupled with mild obsessive-compulsive disorder. Climbing the stairs sometimes takes him close to an hour, depending on how many people interrupt his progress, as I just have. Once he gets to the Clinic offices, he meets with his student attorneys in our large corner conference room with views of the quad, usually reserved for depositions and meetings with opposing counsel. No one has a clue why this is the only room in the Clinic where he feels comfortable in his own skin. “Mr. Hallowell,” I say, careful to resist the natural impulse to shake his hand. “How are you today?” He looks down at his feet and mumbles, “Fine.” At least, that’s what I believe he said. “I’m sure your student lawyers are looking forward to seeing you.” Of course, I don’t know whether Margie and Josh, his student lawyers, will still be waiting for him by the time he reaches the Clinic offices. His appointment may have been hours ago or he may have dropped by without an appointment, as some of our clients do. “Thank you.” His voice trembles as he raises his head just enough to see me. His eyes reveal the pain he feels because I’m still there, in his space. Although I’ve appreciated the climbing break, I force my right leg to take the next step, then my left leg. Bend at knee, place foot, heave self (and baby) up. I pass him and continue my climb. Larry Lee Hallowell once had a job and a family, but mental illness robbed him of that life. His symptoms appeared slowly over several years’ time, beginning with his refusal to take elevators or shake hands, ending with his inability to leave his apartment sometimes for hours, sometimes days. As the symptoms multiplied, he lost his job at the auto factory, and his wife left him, taking the three children with her. Finally, his wife remarried and left the State. Mr. Hallowell came to the Clinic in September because after two years without his children he desperately wanted to see them again.
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