My most recent monthly session with my psychiatrist was a most unusual one, because Dr. R. U. Forereel opened up to me rather than the other way around.
“Have a seat, Neil,” Dr. Forereel said quietly when I entered her office, a small room whose every aspect is as stylish and welcoming as can be. I obeyed, placing my bony ass on the comfortable patient’s chair. It faced its clone, occupied by the good doctor, from a distance of five feet.
“Neil,” she continued, an unmistakable tone of dejection in her voice, “I’m in the midst of an existential crisis, one so powerful I can’t escape its clutches. I want to be totally upfront with you right now. Here’s the bottom line: My condition is interfering with my ability to do my job. Which is why I suspect that you won’t make much progress at today’s session. Not that you’ve progressed very far at all during the many years you’ve been seeing me.”
“That’s not true, Dr. Forereel,” I replied. “You’ve enabled me to understand more accurately and fully who I am. Your insights have helped me come to grips with the fact that, basically, I’m just the most average of Joes, making my way haphazardly and erratically through this earthly realm. Why, without you I’d still be reaching for the stars, getting disappointed right and left when things didn’t work out. As a result, doctor, you’ve turned me into a fairly happy individual. I am in your debt!”
“That’s so kind of you to say, Neil. I wish I could share your opinion of my talents, but I’m afraid that my existential crisis won’t allow me to feel joy.”
“There, you’ve said it again. What the hell is an existential crisis, doctor?”
“Well, my problems are deep-rooted, Neil. You see, I’m ill-fitted to be a psychiatrist. Far too often I’m unsympathetic and, undoubtedly, prickly. If I were of the male gender, it wouldn’t be incorrect to describe me not only as prickly but as a prick too. In any case, my soul is roiling and troubled. Neil, I question the whys and wherefores of my existence.” She paused. “I hope I’ve answered your question adequately,” she then said.
“Yes, doctor, you have. Oy frigging vey! You’re in bad shape. But I’ll try to help, even though help isn’t exactly my middle name. The last time I provided assistance to anyone was 60 years ago, when, despite her vehement protests, I carried a little old lady across a small puddle in the middle of the road. I ended up in juvenile court for that attempt at doing a good deed. Lesson learned!”
“Well, in that case I won’t say that I’m in good hands, Neil. But I am interested in what actions you might be proposing.”
“Doctor, I have a website called Yeah, Another Blogger. That’s where I’ve published the various articles I’ve written over the last seven years. You know about this, I believe.”
“Of course I do! You bring up this boring topic every damn time I see you.”
“My bad, doctor. But here’s what I’m getting at: My advice to you is to take up writing, just as I did. You should aim to go farther than me, however. In other words, you should write a book, a memoir of the journey that led you to become the wonderful psychiatrist that you are. If you do, I guarantee you’ll recognize and take comfort from the fact that you’ve guided countless people to better mental and emotional health.”
Dr. Forereel sat silently for many a second, mulling over my comments. Finally, and most energetically, she spoke.
“Neil, this is a genius idea! Yes, yes, yes! I will tell my story, and the world will listen and learn. And, just as important, I will learn too. Thank you so much. I’ll begin writing when I arrive home tonight. I’m sure I’ll need an editor, though. Is there anyone you might recommend?”
“Edgar Reewright is your man, doctor,” I replied without hesitation. “He has edited my pieces right from the start. Maybe we should call him and feel him out.”
Doctor Forereel nodded enthusiastically, so I dialed Edgar’s number and put the phone on speaker.
“What the hell do you want, Neil?” Edgar shouted. “I’m in the middle of looking over the story you sent to me yesterday. Per usual, it blows.”
“Listen up, Edgar,” I said, ignoring his insult. “I’m with my psychiatrist, Dr. R. U. Forereel. She plans to write a memoir and wants to know if you’d edit the book for her.”
“Isn’t she the doctor whose office decor was voted best in the nation by the American Psychiatric Association this year?” Edgar asked.
At that, Dr. Forereel jumped right in. “Hello, Edgar! Dr. Forereel here. I’m impressed that you’re aware of the prestigious award I won from the APA. I’d be honored if you’d edit my book. I have so much to say and to reveal. Millions of people will take heart from my inspirational tale. Oh my, I’m feeling confident and purposeful once again. Please be my editor, Edgar!”
Edgar, undoubtedly envisioning a handsome commission, wasted no time in agreeing to the proposal. He chitchatted with Dr. Forereel for a while and then ended the call, promising to contact her soon to work out all the details. A few minutes later, my session having reached its conclusion, I rose from the patient’s chair.
“You are a lifesaver, a gift from above,” said Dr. Forereel as she ushered me to the door. “Thank you, Neil, thank you! To show my gratitude, your next five years of therapy, starting today, will be cost-free.”
“Doctor, I hope that I won’t need anything close to five more years of therapy. I’m doing so well, after all.”
“That’s what you think,” my doctor said. “But, alas, you’re wrong. Very, very wrong. I promise that I’ll continue doing my utmost to try and help you see things more clearly.”
Shit!
I love the names for the characters–4 Reel!
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My psychiatrist and my editor, maybe by chance, maybe not, have appropriate names!
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Wonderful as always, Neil. And I neglected to say I’m our last exchange – L’Shana Tova!
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Hi Pam, and thanks.
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Ha ha ha! You have an imagination that will not quit! I thoroughly enjoyed! ❤️❤️❤️❤️
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Thank you, thank you.
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No doubt you are an excellent psychiatrist, Neil! 🙂
In friendship
Michel
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Hi, Michel. Well, I’m not so sure about that!
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Funny guy haha. Enjoyed this more than I should
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Hello. I had a pretty good time writing this story. I’m glad you liked it.
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What a riot, Neil. Loved this little peek into your imagination. I’m glad you were able to help Forereel connect with Reewright. Lol.
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So far they’ve spoken on the phone. They’re destined to meet in person some day, I think. And maybe I’ll be there to write about that!
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He he he. That would be a hoot. 🙂
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Clever and humorous. Fun read!
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Thank you kindly.
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Thanks for the laugh. I recognize many of Dr. R.U. Forereel’s “qualities”. She is the twin of my primary physician. Actually, most of the docs I’ve ever had. So, we must just follow that old maxim–with a new twist–“Patient, heal thyself.”
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Forereel is the only one of my physicians with a testy personality. The others are nice!
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I should say that only some have had a “testy personality.” Mostly, it’s that they feel if you’re past 40, you’ve lived long enough and anything more is a bonus.
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Time to find new doctors!
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What a delight! I just loved this, Neil 🙂
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Thanks, Michele. It makes me feel good to know that.
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Nice post, very amusing but, are you sure you’re getting your money’s worth with Dr Foreal?
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Hey there, Steve. It’s hard to say. But at least Dr. Forereel won’t charge me anything for the next five years of therapy. Or so she said.
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Delightful! Now that she has an editor, she needs to write… This reminds me of the Beatles song, “Baby, you can drive my car”. He doesn’t have a car, but now he has a driver. 😄
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Hi. I’m glad you mentioned that song. It’s a great one. I haven’t heard it in a while, so I’m going to give it a spin. I have it on a cd.
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Clever! Very clever. I predict you no longer need therapy.
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Dr. Forereel thinks otherwise. I’m hoping she changes her mind about that.
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You got me:). I began reading thinking this was a real encounter and you had me chuckling early on . . .
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Hello there. My psychiatrist and my editor think they actually exist! I think.
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You were at gain! Free of cost session! For a change you were of help to the Doctor.
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I’m “Mister Helpful”!
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I liked, “Your insights have helped me come to grips with the fact that, basically, I’m just the most average of Joes, making my way haphazardly and erratically through this earthly realm.”
I think as we age some of us come to realize we are just average Joes and Janes. Ageism has been helpful in this realization. Perhaps we learn to be kinder and more accepting of ourselves with less expectation.
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Yeah, too many expectations and too much pressure can lead to a lot of unhappiness.
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