A day at the doctor's office

A day at the doctor's office

Who says Fall's weather is nice? Cool, fresh, invigorating air, colorful foliage in the trees, migrating birds in the air, and all that shit? Not where I am residing. The weather is still fucking suffocatingly, oppressively hot and humid. That coupled with recent unpleasant encounters with scumbags and assholes make me want to kill one or maybe two of them, but since I dreaded losing my freedom, if not my own life, I called up a shrink with whom Omar used to "consult" and asked him to see me as quickly as he could. I used Omar as a reference. I wondered what kind of fucking business the stupid shrink had because he, instead of a secretary, answered the phone and apparently did all the secretarial duties. He remembered Omar well, but obviously not fondly. I detected a hint of wariness on his part as he put me through the screening process. So I exploited that. I told and sold him a bunch of bullshit stories of how Omar and I were bosom buddies during and after the second Iraq War. He wondered how come I didn't avail myself of the mental health services that the VA offered free of charge to the veterans. I answered that I hated bureaucracy and invariably had flashbacks and headaches when walking into federal buildings that are frequented by men in uniform and former men in uniform but who now walk around with a cane in hand and obviously out of shape and in much pain. Their faces said everything about them and about me, and I didn't want people cognizant of who I was, except Omar and now maybe this Dr. Fuckenstein himself. The bastard shamelessly brought up the question of payment. He wanted cash only. One seventy five U.S. dollars, not pesos, for 55 minutes. I told him that wouldn't be a problem. 

I arrived on a Friday, five days after the phone call, at 5pm. The office was nicer than I anticipated. It was small, but elegantly furnished. And I was right. There was no secretary.  There was nobody waiting in the reception area which consisted of a table upon which were placed various magazines (Psychology Today, National Geographic, Time) and two armchairs. There was a wooden door with a peephole and a sign that read, "Arthur Fuckenstein, M.D., Ph.D." There was a sign on the wall above a bell, "Please ring for appointment." I rang the bell because I did have an appointment. I heard some noise and then the peephole darkened. Fuckenstein was checking me out. Apparently satisfied with my appearance, he went back to his desk and pressed the button. I heard a beep and a booming voice, "Please come in."

The doctor himself sat behind the desk. He rose up and shook my hand. He didn't deign to come around the desk to greet me. I decided to hate the asshole. I hated all power-hungry assholes. 

-I hope you don't mind, but we first need to take care of the payment up front.
-I understand. Here you are ( I gave him 4 bills: $100, $50, $20, and $5. He coolly took out a counterfeit-detection pen and drew a line all through of them. I was annoyed so I said, "excuse me, doc. What would happen if I brought with me the money in singles. You are not going to sit there and check them all, are you?" He just winked at me, and said nothing, yet, until he put the money in a upper right drawer of the desk).
-Of course not, nobody went through the trouble of making counterfeits off one-dollar bills. Not cost effective. Besides, downright stupid. But if a client pays me in one-dollar bills, that would tell me a lot about the client. In my profession, I can't afford not to be vary careful. I deal with sick, unbalanced humans who think and feel differently from ordinary people. Anyway, you told me over the phone you were depressed and suicidal and yet homicidal at the same time. Do you still feel so?
-I don't know right now.
-You don't know how you feel?
-That's correct. I've mixed emotions and feelings all the time. And that's killing me, quite literally. I feel I'm exploding and I've to do something to keep myself from exploding. 
-When did you first experience these conflicting emotions and feelings?
-All my life, since puberty. But they seem to get out of control the last few weeks. 
-Are you able to sleep without the aid of pills or booze?
-Mercifully, yes, but I don't sleep long hours. Four or five hours the most. 
-But they are sound, deep sleep, yes?
-Yes.
-Full of dreams, but you could hardly recall any of theme when you wake up.
-Yes. 
-Good. I can work with you. Rather, you can work with me. You see, it will be you who will do all the work. I just point out to you what you need to think and feel and then act.
-What kind of psychotherapy school do you belong to?
-Mr. Wissai, I belong to no school. There are over 450 different approaches or schools of thought in psychotherapy, each claims to be the most effective in treating mental disorders. I don't buy that bullshit. I have a degree in psychiatry. I am a medical doctor. I also have a doctorate in clinical psychology. They overlap somewhat, but they are of use to each other, at least to me. I take into full account not only of the body, especially of the brain, but the sum of life experiences a patient has had and how he addresses and integrates those experiences. Besides, I am a Buddhist, a converted one, of course, but aren't we all, eventually anyway. And that helps me a lot in not setting me apart and superior to my clients. I learn as much as, if not more, from my clients as they do from me. There's no me nor you. There's only one us, trying to go through this life with at least pain as possible. But if pressed to describe my orientation to psychotherapy, I would say I favor cognitive behavioral, humanistic, existential approaches to mental disorders. Most mental disorders are organic in nature. That is to say, some areas in the brain are damaged or dysfunctional and need to be corrected. Medication and sometimes surgery are what needed. Other mental disorders stem from maladaptations to the stresses of life and/or from lack of understanding what life, in fact living, is all about. That's when the patient needs help from the therapist in seeing his thinking about life's issues such as survival, sex, marriage, money, power, fame, honor and respect, self-respect, and so on, needs to be on a firm track. 
-So what do you think of my case? Why do I have conflicting emotions and feelings?
-Because you're so damn smart and sensitive and egocentric. We just need to work on the egocentric part and you'll be fine. Mr. Wissai, after I talked to you five days ago, I went to work on you right away. I called Omar Sabat and we talked about you at length. You are lucky to have a friend like Omar. He really likes you. He is really your friend. He cares about you. In fact he was begging me to treat you. He told me everything about you, including your work as a cultural anthropologist (huh?, so Omar lied on my behalf!) with his unit and how you two became friends. Essentially, he told me you are incredibly well read so what I am going to say is not going to be over your head. Mr. Wissai, you must learn to do three things right away. First, regular and daily, preferably, physical exercises and meditation. Second, laugh out loud and hard for 30 minutes each day in the morning after you wake up. Third, stop being petty-minded. You must learn to forgive those who have offended you and your ego. Those people are small, stupid, and ignorant scumbags and assholes, your favorite characterizations of them. Holding a grudge against them makes you the same as them. And you are better than them, much better. Don't drag yourself to their level. Your session is over. I really don't think you need to come back. By the way, here's your money back. This session is free, a small payback to your friend Omar who kindly got rid of a mean, nasty competitor of mine who was bent on destroying me. Say hello to Omar for me. Let's me walk you to the door. Good luck to you. And nice meeting you. 

Wissai
October 3, 2014