Friday, May 22, 2015

Day 5.142 What a punch line

The Cardiology department shipped me off to the Psychiatry department. We are in 'process of elimination' mode, searching again for what is causing these horrific symptoms. They think (and who am I to argue) that two areas can be comparatively easy are the two that surround my alarmingly regular anxiety dreams. They think (and who am I to debate) that stress, possible depression (here we go again) and/or a chemical imbalance is to blame for all this nocturnal trauma. I keep telling them that I think it is the medication but that always seems to fall on deaf ears. Maybe because it is an in exacting science and since every body will respond somewhat differently, we need a longer trail period in which to error.

So, yeah, OK.

The fellow starts in with the usual questioning and I kinda take it from there. I tell him all about my issues, in decent detail, trying my best to remain objective and non-emotional.


We get to the, ahem, heart of the matter when I segue to the dreams. The guy is straight as an arrow, he has yet to break even the slightest smile, because after all, this is important shit, no? But when I start to retell my dreams I can see he is amused. I mean, they ARE funny.

So I ham it a little. It is my stage, I am the main attraction, I know my audience and what the heck, I want to prove to him that I can be tough as nails. For reasons that might have something to do with my obsession for 24 and the book on tape I just finished, Lone Survivor. Maybe my dreams are an extenuation of my admitted weakness as compared to Jack and a Navy Seal.

By the time I hit the third dream, he is grinning and holding back a laugh. Now I got him. I tell him about the last one, the one where I need to reset the pacer password and user name in, like ten minutes, or the device will automatically shut down.

I pause.

He looks at me and asks, 'what happens then'?

I pause again, widening eyes directly at his.

And we both say simultaneously but with different pronouns,

I/You die.

We laugh.

What a punch line, eh?

I should send that one to Louis CK.

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