ABSTRACT
There was never a patient who induced the level of love, as well as the concerning quotient of murderous hate, in me as Mrs. A. She arrived at my office nearly 20 years ago. Cautiously, she opened the door of my consulting room with a new white handkerchief. Her heavy coat remained sternly buttoned throughout the initial interview. Mrs. A tearfully told me that she had a “problem with germs.” She said that she had become preoccupied with the fear that she would become contaminated and had found herself instituting more and more precautions.
