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today the glitterbomber is... |
2003-03-19 what a day. i am so completely wiped out. i got to the clinic around 9.30 this morning. calvin, my 10.00 appointment was already in the waiting room, so i saw him right away. calvin wasn�t especially chatty, though as one of the guys from the rehab place across the street, he wanted (needed) to talk about his experiences as an addict and as a recovering addict. i let him. i�ve only had a little experience with people in recovery, and i�m always curious to learn more and to get a glimpse into people�s lives. well, hell, i guess that goes for anyone�s life. i guess i�m a nosy person. perhaps that�s why i want to be a psychologist. who else gets paid for listening to people�s deep dark secrets? (besides talk show hosts) after calvin was finished with his interview, i walked him out to the waiting room. on my way back, i was stopped by robin, the receptionist, who told me that one of my missed appointments was in the D & A group�the group meeting for people in drug and alcohol recovery�and wanted to meet with me when he was finished. i was a leetle disappointed that i wouldn�t have time to run to the post office, but i have to grab these people when i can. while i was waiting for the group to wrap up, i snagged two people that i had previously interviewed. i just started giving my subjects standardized health questionnaires in addition to talking to them about eating and exercise, and these people hadn�t done them yet. elijah took his and started with no problem, but carmen� carmen started telling me about how some people had called her and told her that it (i have no idea what "it" was) was tight, but it was supposed to be loose. she gestured in front of her head while she was telling me this, so maybe her head was supposed to be loose? then she told me that they said that i had given them her phone number. i just said, "yeah, i don�t know anything about that. want to do these questionnaires?" as i was getting her a pen, she yelled, "as soon as i get my prozac!" "what about your prozac?" i yelled back. in the meantime, the D & A group was getting out, so all was chaos. my mystery appointment appeared. it was robert, the guy from rehab who i watched the movie with a couple weeks ago. he gave me a hug and called me his "little partner." yeah, i have no idea what that means, either. i weighed him and got his height, then went into my "office" to do the interview. we were in there for a freaking hour-and-a-half, and i think we focused on the study for not even half that time. robert wanted to talk about me. robert wanted to show me his tattoos (a crudely done playboy bunny logo on the left side of his chest and an equally crudely done heart with a "mom" banner on his left arm. he did that weird flex-y, jiggly thing with his pec when he showed me the bunny. ew.). robert wanted to show me the eleven bullet holes in his knees and legs ("no, thank you," i said when he asked if i wanted to see the bullet wounds on his thigh. i mean, ugh!). robert wanted to know if i "fuck black guys." (robert being a black guy.) okay, so good old robert wasn�t as much of a pig as i�m making him out to be here. these things were less piggish in context, really, and i did find them hilarious. plus, i do draw boundaries, though perhaps i need to do a better job of that. because i�m pretty informal, i guess it�s easy for these guys to relax and be themselves around me, and that includes speaking in, um, the vernacular. (for the record, i make it clear that i have a boy that i love very much.) robert asked me my nationality. when i told him i�m italian, he exclaimed that it�s hard to find a "purebred" anymore (it is?) and that i�m not white because i�m italian. "but i consider myself white," i told him. "what?!" he protested, "i�ll take you to see some italians that will start some shit with you if you tell them they�re white. they say they�re italian." i really don�t want to experience that, thanks. when he was in jail, he told me that he used to watch the rollerbladers from his window and decided that he would skate when he got out of jail. (i found that hard to believe, but whatever.) robert was floored when i said that i had depression, too. "you�re a white woman doing all the things i wish i could do! i never would have guessed that," he said. i am supposed to burn robert a public enemy CD, and he gave me a list of hip-hop albums i "should" listen to. i am a "soft" girl, he says. "most girls, when you go to their houses, they have rap music playing all loud, and there�s weed everywhere, and there�s a baby cryin� that�s not even their own." "soft" girls have socks with hearts on them, dontcha� know? robert, apparently, has had quite a life because he wants to write a book about it. and he wants me to help him write it. "there�s big money in it for you, boo," he told me, "and if not, at least i�ll have something for my kids, so they�ll know what i was like." robert is 33 and has five daughters, by the way. i don�t want to help robert write his biography. how do i get myself involved in these things? after i finally got rid of robert, i had to interview corliss (the infamous x-bank woman). corliss was another chatty one, but i tried to get though with her interview as fast as i could. corliss lamented on her lack of a boyfriend. "i want a man with a voice like luther vandross�they�re all singing songs of love but not to me," she sighed. it was nearly 2.30 when i finished up with corliss, and i was starving. luckily, a pharmaceutical rep had visited and brought lunch. it was icky boston market food, but it was free. so i had lunch courtesy of risperdal, america�s #1 prescribed antipsychotic. i also swiped some pens and, strangely enough, a bag of microwave popcorn emblazoned with the name of the drug. i�m a little afraid to make it, though maybe i could do with some antipsychotics. after i quickly ate, i dashed out of the clinic and over to the hospital for my appointment with the gynecologist. i want to go on the pill; luckily, my last exam was recent enough that i didn�t have to get another one, so i was in and out of the office pretty quickly. prescription in hand, i headed over to the pharmacy to get it filled. i thought i�d get my new prescription for wellbutrin filled while i was at it. i was going to wait, since i have a bottle left over from last time, and i can�t really afford it right now, but i thought i�d go ahead with it anyway. when the woman called my name, i picked up my bag o� pills, and she told me that i needed physician authorization for the birth control pills. she told me she�d called, and i thought that was the end of it. i paid for my stash, and walked back to work. when i got to my cube, and opened the bag, only my wellbutrin was in it, so i guess i have to go back and get the other ones tomorrow. i don�t mind that; it�s a quick walk. somehow, though, i ended up paying $40 for a three-month supply of wellbutrin. that is way too much, and i think i was charged for all my pills at once. i hope so, because if i have to pay another $40, i will flip out. i can�t afford that right now, and i don�t even need the wellbutrin yet. bitch bitch, i know. i should be glad i have insurance in the first place. i had enough time at work to check email, and at around 5, amy b and i decided that it was high time that we headed home. and so we did. and i am wiped out, mostly mentally. i have no patients tomorrow, thank god, or i might have to start taking risperdal. i never thought i would be doing this professionally. i never thought that, during the course of a normal work day, someone would ask me if i "fuck black guys." *** quote of the day: "some people is just idiots." �woman on the phone outside of the clinic *** np: apples in stereo "strawberryfire" |
