I’m sure all of you Strange Brew fans know exactly what I’m talking about. Yeah, my doctor is a Hoser. Or, it’s actually my psychiatrist intern who is on the line.
Today was my first face-to-face with her after being released from the bin. I knew she was going to be extremely nice and polite during our appointment. During my last appointment with my NP, I had the distinct impression The Hoser was in big trouble for letting me get to a state where I had to be admitted. Especially after my NP asked me in a very direct manner how I felt treatment with The Hoser was progressing and if I had any complaints.
Long story short – a 30 minute appointment turned into 45 because she tried to make coffee for herself twice but got completely sidetracked by the coffee pad for the Senseo, the ‘bloody’ computer system is so confusing she can’t figure out how many refills of what I have left, flipping through her agenda (twice!) for our next appointment resulted in the discovery this is April and not May, and we spent a full five minutes where she asked me how she should go about following up with my treatment. (No, really. What should I do??)
Maybe this is really 3B Treatment – three beers and it looks good.
So, yeah. Today was almost a cluster. Except for one thing. The best part was when the appointment was over and I was walking down the hall, away from the mental health wing to the main hospital. That’s when I decided she is a Hoser. And I had to bite my tong very hard to keep from laughing out loud. A woman walking away from the Looney Wing, laughing to herself, is never seen as OK. And that last thought made me want to laugh even harder.
Hey, you gotta take those laughs wherever you can get ’em, eh?