The last time I smelt you,
I thought there had been a skunk in the office:
You, and your gray sweatshirt and gray face;
You, as a lawyer, a woman, a mother, a person,
can be well spared
it'd be a world's favor
It is the ultimate fetish,
clinging upon someone who is happily fucking the other --
with and without violence.
You have tried to widen the horizon of sadism:
as a second-hand human,
not even worth to be an art mocker's joker.
And we, stand here high
watching you shrinking into a tiny gray bubble,
burst into dust by the poke of your lover,
and your lover's lovers.
As we spoke with nature,
it told us that --
your existence was Gods' error.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
Case Reopened
Getting my medical records was a long and arduous process, since I don't live in the States anymore and I did not really know if there were any written documents -- I never got any after getting out of the hospital. After much generous help of my friends and midnight phone calls, my records traveled across the Pacific Ocean when we were in vacation. Only had you known how grateful and happy I was when I received that golden brown envelope. The whole idea of retrieving the written document was to show that I had unfinished treatment / misdiagnoses for my psychological disturbance and for the moment, I somewhat find myself in an urgent need of a good therapist, someone who is willing to work with me. After being on the waiting list for months and months, it was finally my turn to speak to someone professional.
As I stood in line waiting to check in, the heavy past was wrapped up in a brown envelop, carefully folded and sent by the secretary from the States -- case was about to be re-opened, I had the whole details in my head that I was ready to tell -- this time, no administration who drags my hair into the psychiatrist's office; this time, I would not play mind game trying desperately to get out of the session; this time, things are different. My name was called and I walked across the shelf full of free-medication: Zyprexa's purple cover caught my eye; one of the psycho drugs made me sicker than before the nut-cage sojourn and I was considering joining the list of the collective law suit against the company. --- But maybe it is a coincidence; there are also blue pills and green ones, even neutral yellow ones... Doctor Korser sat behind the desk, thinning hair and glasses with golden rimes; he leaned back on his armchair looking like a sun-dried vegetable, but serious.
"How can I help you?"
"I can't sleep properly; I have frequent flash-backs and mood swing."
"Why can't you sleep?"
"Because I have flash backs; and I feel depressed."
"Why?"
"Maybe partially because I had lost faith in the entire academic field."
"Are you a student?"
"Yes."
"In what?"
"Literature."
"OK."
He looked utterly surprised and stopped showing any sign of life. To break the uncomfortable silence, I told Dr. Korser that I might have bipolar.
"Bi.... what?"
"Bipolar."
"How do you know the word? Who told you that? Were you in a hospital."
"I was in a hospital, and I also brought my records with me, but..." I wanted to say but I don't agree with their diagnoses, just look at the list: PTSD, Borderline, Bipolar, Chronicle depression ... with GAF between 35 to 50!
"Let me see the records."
I handed him the heavy stack of paper, he flipped through the axis parts of them and simply copied every diagnoses down. Before I said anything, he told me that he would give me Seroquel, one of the drugs my former doctors gave me, and I told him, there was no way I wanted medication.
"Why? It will help you sleep. Did you say that you couldn't sleep?"
"I am not taking any medication."
"Why not? Why did you stop? Why do you think that people developed medication? So that the injured ones can be healed. Imagine if you have a wound and not using any antiseptic, you would DEAD; imagine if you have an infection without using Penicillin, you would be DEAD! Just try it ok? I write you a low dose. What do you expect tobe healed? With pretty words?"
I was going to say with "wise words"; but I suppose it'd a waste of time to argue with a dried-up zucchini.
Just try it, he said, as if I never had. I started with 5mg and as I cold-turkeyed all the 6 kinds of psycho drugs, I got terribly sick. It was neither a surprise nor very wise, and yet, maybe it was. I remember being not able to drive or concentrate or do anything else when my Seroquel was increased to 15mg; then I was given something more to help me stay awake in the morning, along with the ones which over sedated me. It fucked me right up and what I held in hand was a prescription of 25mg; to start with if I may remind you.
"We start low, one per night, 20 minutes before bed time. Then, after a couple of weeks, you can start taking one more in the morning, and then one by lunch. Our goal is 3 times a day, OK? Three!" He stretched out 3 fingers -- thank you Dr. Korser, any number over three would be a real challenge for me.
The phone rang. He reached the mobile part and turned his back to me in his leather arm chair. For the first time since I came in, I heard him laugh: "Oh hello man... I know... I know... what a strange guy he was!.... No, I think he is Arabic, but maybe Turkish, but what is the difference anyway. hehehehe...I know... I know.... oh right, that is funny, what did he expect? Those are candies? I hope the car accident did not turn out too bad... yeah, here is same old same old... no.... I think the price has gone up.... oh You! I think I will need to pay more tax next year, thanks for the tip... I don't think it should be any trouble, it is nationally proved anyway. Ach, don't listen to their non-sense! There is NO poverty in the Federal Republic of Germany. And you too! Greeting to your children and your wife... totally, that is good eating spot, guten appetit. Ciao."
Then he turned around, surprised to see that I was still there. It was such a shame to have my cell phone off; I have a voice recorder on it.
"Oh right, you. Can't sleep right?"
"Right." I guess I would save time for both of us.
"Are you a student?"
"Yes."
"OK, what did we say? Seroquel 25mg?"
"Sure."
"Any allegies?" he was looking at his cell phone for time or a new SMS.
"Penicillin." (THAT might be a nature intended coincidence)
"Good to know. Do you have skin irritation after taking it?"
"No, it is deadly; I would stop to breath. It is deadly."
"Ok. Then." He shook my hand. I shook his and wished him a good weekend.
Case reopened.
As I stood in line waiting to check in, the heavy past was wrapped up in a brown envelop, carefully folded and sent by the secretary from the States -- case was about to be re-opened, I had the whole details in my head that I was ready to tell -- this time, no administration who drags my hair into the psychiatrist's office; this time, I would not play mind game trying desperately to get out of the session; this time, things are different. My name was called and I walked across the shelf full of free-medication: Zyprexa's purple cover caught my eye; one of the psycho drugs made me sicker than before the nut-cage sojourn and I was considering joining the list of the collective law suit against the company. --- But maybe it is a coincidence; there are also blue pills and green ones, even neutral yellow ones... Doctor Korser sat behind the desk, thinning hair and glasses with golden rimes; he leaned back on his armchair looking like a sun-dried vegetable, but serious.
"How can I help you?"
"I can't sleep properly; I have frequent flash-backs and mood swing."
"Why can't you sleep?"
"Because I have flash backs; and I feel depressed."
"Why?"
"Maybe partially because I had lost faith in the entire academic field."
"Are you a student?"
"Yes."
"In what?"
"Literature."
"OK."
He looked utterly surprised and stopped showing any sign of life. To break the uncomfortable silence, I told Dr. Korser that I might have bipolar.
"Bi.... what?"
"Bipolar."
"How do you know the word? Who told you that? Were you in a hospital."
"I was in a hospital, and I also brought my records with me, but..." I wanted to say but I don't agree with their diagnoses, just look at the list: PTSD, Borderline, Bipolar, Chronicle depression ... with GAF between 35 to 50!
"Let me see the records."
I handed him the heavy stack of paper, he flipped through the axis parts of them and simply copied every diagnoses down. Before I said anything, he told me that he would give me Seroquel, one of the drugs my former doctors gave me, and I told him, there was no way I wanted medication.
"Why? It will help you sleep. Did you say that you couldn't sleep?"
"I am not taking any medication."
"Why not? Why did you stop? Why do you think that people developed medication? So that the injured ones can be healed. Imagine if you have a wound and not using any antiseptic, you would DEAD; imagine if you have an infection without using Penicillin, you would be DEAD! Just try it ok? I write you a low dose. What do you expect tobe healed? With pretty words?"
I was going to say with "wise words"; but I suppose it'd a waste of time to argue with a dried-up zucchini.
Just try it, he said, as if I never had. I started with 5mg and as I cold-turkeyed all the 6 kinds of psycho drugs, I got terribly sick. It was neither a surprise nor very wise, and yet, maybe it was. I remember being not able to drive or concentrate or do anything else when my Seroquel was increased to 15mg; then I was given something more to help me stay awake in the morning, along with the ones which over sedated me. It fucked me right up and what I held in hand was a prescription of 25mg; to start with if I may remind you.
"We start low, one per night, 20 minutes before bed time. Then, after a couple of weeks, you can start taking one more in the morning, and then one by lunch. Our goal is 3 times a day, OK? Three!" He stretched out 3 fingers -- thank you Dr. Korser, any number over three would be a real challenge for me.
The phone rang. He reached the mobile part and turned his back to me in his leather arm chair. For the first time since I came in, I heard him laugh: "Oh hello man... I know... I know... what a strange guy he was!.... No, I think he is Arabic, but maybe Turkish, but what is the difference anyway. hehehehe...I know... I know.... oh right, that is funny, what did he expect? Those are candies? I hope the car accident did not turn out too bad... yeah, here is same old same old... no.... I think the price has gone up.... oh You! I think I will need to pay more tax next year, thanks for the tip... I don't think it should be any trouble, it is nationally proved anyway. Ach, don't listen to their non-sense! There is NO poverty in the Federal Republic of Germany. And you too! Greeting to your children and your wife... totally, that is good eating spot, guten appetit. Ciao."
Then he turned around, surprised to see that I was still there. It was such a shame to have my cell phone off; I have a voice recorder on it.
"Oh right, you. Can't sleep right?"
"Right." I guess I would save time for both of us.
"Are you a student?"
"Yes."
"OK, what did we say? Seroquel 25mg?"
"Sure."
"Any allegies?" he was looking at his cell phone for time or a new SMS.
"Penicillin." (THAT might be a nature intended coincidence)
"Good to know. Do you have skin irritation after taking it?"
"No, it is deadly; I would stop to breath. It is deadly."
"Ok. Then." He shook my hand. I shook his and wished him a good weekend.
Case reopened.
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