Months ago a friend of mine asked if I would accompany them to their psychiatrist's office. She couldn't miss this appointment--she had canceled the last four. We had plans for later that afternoon and my morning didn't involve anything terribly interesting so I agreed to go along.
"I just don't feel like going by myself," she explained. So I grabbed "The Historian" (which i still haven't finished reading...arg!) and my ingenious portable music device. That should keep me entertained. Who knows how long she was going to be in there.
We got to the doctor's office, she signs in and we take a seat. Waited for about 20 minutes, engaging in mindless chatter. I was completely unaware of the other people in the waiting room until my friend got up and went through the door.
Headphones already in place, I hit play on my Mp3 player, pulled my book out and opened it up to where I left off...but I was barely able to read a paragraph. I was suddenly aware of the presence of others. I could feel eyes all over me. Slowly, I lifted my eyes and glanced around the room. On the opposite end from where I was at, there were two men. One was looking back with a curious expression on his face, the other with a slight smirk. The one to the left was probably in his mid-20s, with blond hair and dark eyes. The other had darker features and was well into his 40s. To my left was a pimply-faced teenager, looking so sweet, awkward and insecure it almost made me feel embarrassed. He kept glancing over nervously, jerking his head every time I shifted in my seat.
I looked back down to my book, but didn't read. Everyone was looking at me as if they were waiting for me to say something. I smiled inwardly as I realized what was going on.
They were all sizing me up.
Probably wondering, "Why is she here?" Asking themselves questions along the lines of "is she crazy?" and "what kinda pills does she like to pop?"
Or maybe they were just wondering what my book was about.
Maybe my hair was looking particularly Helena Bonham Carter.
The middle-aged man started talking to the blond-haired guy. He was going on about how he had been seeing this 'shrink' for a few months. His daughter had her own doctor somewhere else. She takes antidepressants and adderall, and she steals whatever medication she can get her hands on that are prescribed to him. He didn't mention what it is that he takes. Hmm. I stifled a laugh and looked up. I almost asked the guy if his daughter went to River Hill. But I stayed quiet. (Half the kids I went to high school with were medicated one way or another.) Blonde-guy kept glancing over at me every 20 seconds. He was still wondering about me. Maybe expecting me to open up to them, just as they had to each other? I can't remember blonde-guy's story. Something about panic attacks.
Odd. The way they were talking...it almost seemed as if they were....bragging? Their tone of voice held something more than just casual conversation.
"I've been on 20mg. of Cymbalta for the longest time."
"Oh, yeah? Well I'm on 60mg. of Cymbalta and I've been taking Zyprexa, too."
"Oh. Well, my daughter's on all of these medications...." blah blah blah...
I listened, very much amused by the fact that they were so open about their personal lives. (I'm pretty open about things when it comes to writing them down, but 90% of what I write you probably can't get me to say out loud, especially if I'm out in public. Unless I'm drunk. Or in a particularly chatty mood. Neither of which happens often..!) :) I was mildly amused yet at the same time felt unsettled by the fact that the older guy just chuckled as he was talking about his drug-abusing daughter in a "kids do the darndest things" kind of manner.
All this took place in a 10-minute time frame. After the "I'm more medicated than you" dance-off, the two men started leafing through magazines.
I caught zit boy looking my way again and I smiled at him. Oops. I scared him. His face turned red and he looked like he was about to pee his pants.
I checked the clock. Sighed. Actually started reading the page I had been staring at. Made it through a page or two when suddenly my friend appeared through the door . I looked up in surprise. "You ready?" she asked, walking over to the front desk to schedule her next appointment.
I got up, checking the clock again. 15 minutes...? That's it?
We walk out of the office and into the hallway and I asked, "What could you possibly have had time to talk about in just fifteen minutes?"
With a grin she held up 5 pieces of paper, fanning them out. Prescriptions. I grabbed them out of her hand and checked to see what kind of candy she got. Hmm. Quite the combination. Adderall, sleeping pills (that can't be a good mix) anti-anxiety meds...and of course...antidepressants.
I was shocked. "You guys didn't talk about anything?"
She shrugged. "Nothing really to talk about."
I thought for a moment. "But the first few times you went to see the doc you probably had longer sessions, right?"
"Uh. No."
I stopped walking. "You mean all this time you've just been going in there for 15 minutes...twice a month....to pick up prescriptions?!"
With a laugh she said, "Yep."
"I thought you said you were seeing a psychiatrist?!"
"I am."
"No...that wasn't a psychiatrist you just saw. THAT was a drug dealer!"
She laughed even harder. "Yes. I know."
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