Yeah, Another Blogger

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Neil ‘I’ve got major problems’ Scheinin,” my psychiatrist Dr. R.U. Forereel said quietly, her gaze fixed on me like a big-game hunter, when I entered her office for my monthly session last week.

Her words stopped me in my tracks.

“What? Did I hear you correctly, doctor? How dare you talk to me like that!”

“Oh, calm down. Have a seat, Neil. I was just kidding around. My, you have a thin hide.”

Keeping my ears wide open lest any further barbs be projected at me, I slowly approached the patient’s chair and then eased my way onto it.

“Yikes!” I yelled, as my highly bony ass made contact with the chair’s rigid cushion. “Dr. Forereel, you need to replace this piece of crap masquerading as furniture. Its seat is as hard as a frigging rock. I’ve never been comfortable on it, and now less than ever, given my aging butt’s deteriorating condition. Maybe that’s why I’ve made minimal sustained progress over the many years you’ve been treating me.”

“Point taken, Neil. Rest assured that a chair deserving of your continued presence will greet you next month. You are, after all, one of my favorite patients. Which really isn’t saying much, though, considering the competition you’re up against.”

“Doctor, I’m shocked to hear you badmouth your other patients,” I said. “You’ve never done that before. Are you having a bad day?”

My question caused Dr. Forereel’s stern demeanor to change immediately. “Neil, I’m not sure I ever have a good day,” she said, her eyes awash with vulnerability. “And that’s been especially true for the past two weeks. You see, I feel I must end my relationship with Tom, the fine man who, because of you, entered my life last year.”

Her comment about my close friend Tom completely took me by surprise, as Tom has nothing but wonderful things to say about Dr. Forereel whenever I speak with him. He moved in with my psychiatrist only weeks after he first asked her out, and as far as he is concerned everything between them has progressed swimmingly.

“End the relationship? Why, doctor?”

“I know, on the surface it makes little sense. Tom is sweet as peach pie. He’s caring and intelligent. But he’s driving me crazy, though I, of course, have kept this hidden from him. For instance, Tom clears his throat vigorously, as if he’s starting up an outboard motor, whenever he’s about to start speaking to me — VRROOMM! I can’t stand that. And he never takes off his baseball cap, even when we’re making love. All he’ll do on those occasions is turn it backwards on his head so that the bill doesn’t poke me in the face or in my private parts. That’s considerate of him, true, but I imagine he wears the cap in bed because he likes to think of himself as a talented athlete. In truth, however, he isn’t exactly carrying heavy lumber, if you get my drift.”

“Ouch, too much information!” I responded. “Look, you can’t have everything. Surely, doctor, there has to be a way for you to focus on, and appreciate, the bigger picture. I believe it would be a major mistake for you to send Tom packing. You might never again find a man to share your life with.”

“Sadly, I cannot disagree. I’m well into my middle years, yet Tom is the first man I’ve lived with. I suppose I’m not cut out for a partnership . . . Wait! I just thought of something. The Journal Of Seemingly Lost Causes ran a fascinating article not long ago. It’s about the therapeutic techniques designed by Dr. Ican Fixit. The results from Dr. Fixit’s program, though preliminary, are extraordinary. His basic approach is to put his patients into deep hypnotic states and then scream at them, ‘You think you‘ve got problems? Believe me, they are nothing compared to mine, so wise up already!'”

“Neil,” my doctor continued, “Dr. Fixit repeats this procedure every day for a month. By then, success in most cases is achieved. There’s no time for me to lose. I will contact him and enroll in his program. When I complete it, there will be a new version of me — more tolerant, less prickly. I’ll embrace and be amused by all of Tom’s peculiarities. And my psychiatric abilities undoubtedly will rise to heights even Freud could not have imagined, which means that possibly you’ll finally start showing some lasting improvement. Let’s hope so. You’ve certainly got a long, long way to go.”