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a few years ago i came down with a serious illness and was hospitalized for several weeks. once it became clear i was gonna live, my doctor (who had become concerned about my mental state after my prolonged confinement) had a friend of his, a prominent psychiatrist, drop by a couple times a week for a little chat.
[i was touched by my doctor's concern--gee, he sent so many specialists over to check on me--until, that is, i got the bill and realized that all those specialists, including said psychiatrist, dinged my insurance company an average of $400 for each of their 15-minute visits, but my outrage at doctors feeding like pigs at the insurance trough is a story for another day]
point is, this guy was good. after laying out the long-practiced patter of my background, i asked him one day, "so tell me, doc--what the hell's the matter with me?"
understand: i had asked this same question of every mental-health professional i'd ever encountered and gotten nothing back but bullshit, so i wasn't really expecting anything different from this guy; i was just askin for the hell of it.
but he surprised me; without hesitation, he replied, "is that all you want to know? that's obvious--you have a personality disorder; more particularly, you're schizoid."
"schizoid?! fuck you, i'm not schizophrenic--there's just one of me, thank you very much."
he smiled, shook his head. "schizoid is worlds away from schizophrenic, mike." he then pointed at the laptop on my bed, said "google it--i think you'll find it interesting," and left (my 15 minutes were up, you see).
i did just that, and in a flash my whole life was explained.
[and you can google it for yourself, and/or wait for part 2]
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2 comments:
"Don't like hearing noises, especially when there ain't supposed to be any."
---Plan 9 from Outer Space.
Welcome to the Freakshow of Psychiatric care. I, too, have been labeled schizophrenic and I tell you - I am the sanest guy I know!
i'll wait.
:::tapping foot:::
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