The Perfectionists Psychotic

I want to walk again to 72nd street.

I wake up at 3:30 in the morning and make coffee and start working on my novels. I'm not going to waste this morning for all the tea in china. I get busy. But as the sun rises, and the early morning turns to day, I start getting tired, my eyes drooping. It is time for me to go back go bed again. I look at my clock...6:13am. I'll sleep until 8:30 and then go down stairs and get my breakfast before the Cafeteria closes. I crawl into bed.

I wake up at 9:20am. Breakfast is officially over at 9:00. Fuck! I plan to go walking to the station before jumping on the Way and meeting my appointment with my Psychologist. I get online and start writing again and before I know it, it's too late for me to walk to the train station on 72nd! How did let time slip by me like that? I'm staring amazed at the clock. I'll have to walk my walk on the way back home. I get up and head off to Dr. W's office.

Now get this. I have five dollars left and since they give me train passes whenever I go to my doctor's office I only want to spend two out of the five dollars. So I enter the 96th street station and go over to the token clerk and explain to her my predicament. With love in her fucking voice and attitude she points her nasty ass at the card machines against the wall. But I don't want to use those because they dispense silver dollars as change and I want cash. "I don't do two dollar metrocards here. That can only be done at the machines." Oh really. I walk off, heading towards the machines and insert my five, get my metro card and head downstairs for the trains. I reach the platform and the number three comes roaring into the station do I then realize that I walked off from the machine without taking my three dollars in silver dollar change. I just left the three dollars behind me that I wanted to keep badly. I shake my fucking mellon head and board the train.

I walk into the waiting area of the office and I see Dr. W walk past me into an office not hers. I nod to her but she doesn't know me from a box of sleeping pills, only seeing me one before. With her bulk she moves slowly and gracefully from place to place with an economy of energy. I go to the front desk and I'm signed in. Then the receptionist picks up the phone and calls her. Are you calling her in her office? I ask. "Yes." Well I just saw Dr. W. enter that office over there. I point. "Oh, okay have a seat." I nod and sit down.

It's now twenty minutes since I sat down and Dr. W. walks into the center of the waiting area, talking to several colleges before heading for the hallway leading to her office. I notice that the receptionist was too busy reading her magazine to notice Dr. W in front of her station or walking past when she was done. She just continued in her magazine. Another ten minutes and I was through. The last time we been through this I waited for an hour just to have Dr. W. walk past me and hop on the elevator to go home. I got up and accosted the receptionist again. She was just out here in front of you. Can you call her now and tell her that I've been sitting for a half hour?? "I asked if you wanted me to call her, you said no," the receptionist replied tersely, reaching over for the phone and dialing in the numbers. I smirk at her and walk off, heading for my seat. In another five minutes Dr. W. comes out, moving slowly with a slight limp, and calls my name. In a minute, I am sitting in her office.

"How do you feel?" Fine. "How has the season been treating you?" Okay I guess. "The season doesn't bring any feeling to the fore? You have nothing on your mind? "Nothing really. "How has your social life been?" Hmmmm, alright I guess. "Have you been getting out of your room lately?" Not really. I mean, for the SHOUT OUT and doctor's appointments. Little more than that. "I see. What do you feel about crowds, groups of people?" I hate them. I'd rather stay home. "Would you say, during this Spring season so far, have you gotten out much?" Little.

"I think you should seriously think about Lurvox. It's a drug that we can employ and see how it works on you," Dr. W says. She is large, so she breathes hard when she speaks. Why would I want to try another pill? "Because if you do well on this treatment for two months we can do away with your Wellbutrin and Lamictal." Hmmmm, two for one, huh? And what is it that you want me to think about? "Taking this medication." Wow, this was an easy choice. I didn't need a month to think about it. I'll do it doc. "You agree to using Lurvox?" Yeah, why not? "Here then," she reaches at the piles of paper on her desk. "You need to sign this." What is it doc? I look down at it and find that it looks like a release form. It explains basically that I know what I'm doing, my doctor and I discussed this, and that I am fully aware of the contraindications. Basically everything that we spoke about for the past twenty minutes. I agree and sign the paper. Dr W hands me the prescription, sits back in her chair and sighs tiredly. "Take care, Mr. Hobobob." Thanks. I walk off.

More drugs, huh? This one though is supposed to help me with my acute social anxiety. ASA. Who'd a guessed? I come back uptown and drop off one prescription and pick up the other, my Lipitor. The counter woman rang it up. "$192.00 please." I look at her, shocked. For my pills? "Yes, $192.00 please." Some thing is wrong, I tell her. I never paid for them before. She looks at the prescription then returns to the back of the pharmacy and is gone for awhile before returning, ringing up nothing, "Okay, everything is alright now. Your insurance was not in the charge. You have no copay." Thanks. I take my pills and leave. Then it dawns on me...at that price...if all of my pills are around that price, give or take a few dollars, what I would have on my windowsil is nearly $3,000.00 worth of medicine. Holy fuck!!!

I shake my head. There is just no way that I could afford to stay alive without my health insurance. When I thought that I could pay for my pills without insurance, on my little job...what was I fucking thinking? I would be lost in the sauce. I would be dying early boys and girls. My two years on the streets did enough damage to my organs...any longer and I would be in a pine box. I think I was just lucky. I get to survive for a couple of years more.

I come home, relieved to be home. The world outside felt like it was after me. I felt like my bad luck was catching up to me.

I lock the door. Leaving it outside.

Hobobob