***The Following is a Fictional account of a man named Skyler Clark who struggles with Schizophrenia. This is not about me. There might be some triggering subject matter. If you are easily triggered, do not read this. ***
My name is Skyler Clark and I am on my way to see a Psychiatrist for the first time. My wife thinks this is best for me. I am not entirely sure what to expect because this is completely new to me, but my wife has been telling me that lately, I've been acting bizarre. Is there any truth in her assessment? I suppose that to the average person, it may seem like my behavior is a little erratic. But, then again, I just think the average person is not intelligent enough to truly understand my genius. I mean, not many people can say that Bill Gates personally seeks advice from them concerning the creation of the Enterprise! Anyways, so I am boarding the city bus right now. It is crowded today. I hate crowds so much. I quietly sit all the way in the back and put on my headphones so I can listen to some Bone Thugs N' Harmony. Rap music always soothes me. Eventually, I noticed this old woman staring at me from across the bus. Why is this old hag staring at me? Is there something on my face? Can she read my mind? No, I am just singing along with my music too loudly. I quickly apologize and continue listening to my music. This is going to be a long bus ride.
Eventually, I arrive at my stop and I pull the bus cord. The bus comes to a complete stop and as I am getting off of the bus, I feel every eye staring at me. It is very unnerving. However, I just ignore it because I understand that the average person cannot possibly grasp what it is like to be so amazing. I begin the long trek to the psychiatrist's office. I notice the birds flying in the air. I wish I was a bird sometimes. Maybe if I was, then I could fly freely. Don't get me wrong, I love my wife. I really do, but sometimes I feel like she does not really allow me to be me. She is always telling me that I need to do this or do that and to remember this. It kind of irritates me because sometimes I just want to do my own thing. Like building the Enterprise for Bill Gates. I really need to get on that because I promised him I would. But, my wife keeps on giving me these meaningless distractions. As I am walking, I think I see a flying cat with a human face laughing at me, but I decide to ignore it. It's probably not laughing at me anyways. It probably just heard a funny joke or something. I admit that it is pretty strange to see a cat that flies and that the cat has a human face. But, oh well, life is strange sometimes.
Finally, I make it to the psychiatrist's office and my first impression is that it is tiny. Only about four people are sitting in the waiting area and it is already cramped. I hate cramped spaces. I approach the front desk and give the secretary my name. She looks me up on her computer and then asks for my insurance card. As I am handing my insurance card to her, I notice she is wearing a Cincinnati Bengals bracelet. I absolutely loathe that team, but I do not say anything. I figure she knows nothing about Football anyway. I quietly take my seat next to a heavyset African-American man, whom I nod at, and he nods back at me. I slip on my music once more as I wait for Dr. Terry Goodman. I do not know what to expect, but I figure it cannot be all that bad.
The wait seems like it is taking an eternity, but it only took about thirty minutes. Dr. Goodman finally comes out and calls my name. I quickly get up and say hi to him. He smiles at me and asks me how I am doing.
"Fine," I reply as we walk into his office. His office is immaculate. I can see he definitely is making a lot of money. The first thing I notice is the big solid Oak desk in the center of the room and all of the degrees he has posted on the wall behind him. Then, I notice his bookshelf with all kinds of books about Psychology on it. My first impression is this guy must be pretty smart. But, obviously not as smart as me, though.
"So, what brings you into my office, Skyler?" Dr. Goodman asks me. I think the question is pretty absurd because I am sure that my wife already spoke to him. I breathe a sigh.
"I am not sure. My wife wanted me to come in to see you" I answer him, as I cross my arms. I think he is noticing me tapping my foot. I try not to but I am really nervous, though. He writes something down on his notepad. What is he writing?
"Do you hear things that aren't really there, Skyler?" He proceeds to ask me. Why would he ask me that for? How can I possibly hear things that aren't there? Maybe this "doctor" is not as smart as he appears to be.
"No, but sometimes my wife thinks so..." My voice trails off. He looks at me with a concerned look on his face.
"What do you mean?" He asks me, but this time he is not smiling. My nervousness begins to ramp up. I begin biting my bottom lip.
"Well, sometimes my wife says that she does not hear Bill Gates talking to me, but that is because he is talking to me telepathically. I understand why she would not understand that and that seems crazy to her, but I am not crazy, though. Dr. Goodman writes something else down into his notepad before looking back up again.
"Tell me, how has your mood been lately?" He asks me and at this point, I am getting annoyed with all the questions. I glance up at the clock. It's only been five minutes.
"I guess my mood has been alright. Sometimes I get angry at my wife when she does not give me a massage. I mean, is it so much to ask for? Isn't that one of her wifely duties?" I begin displaying more signs of irritation as I am speaking. The doctor writes more things down in his notepad. I really wish that I could see what he is writing.
"How is your sleep by the way? Are you getting a full eight hours of sleep each night?" This question surprises me because I was not expecting it. Why is he asking me about my sleep patterns?
"Not really," I reply honestly, "Most nights I'll be lucky if I get three hours of sleep, but surprisingly I still feel full of energy. I guess I do not need to sleep for eight hours!" He writes more things down in his notepad, much to my chagrin.
Finally, Dr. Goodman looks up and tells me that he suspects that I have something called Schizoaffective Disorder Bipolar Type, whatever that means. He says that it is a combination of Schizophrenia and Bipolar. Great, he thinks I belong in the looney bin. He then proceeds to assure me that everything will be alright as long as I take the medications he prescribed me. The medication, he says, will reduce my "hallucinations" and may help me have a stable mood and also help me sleep. I groan at this. I am not so sure if I want to take medication. There is nothing wrong with me. I do not hallucinate. This doctor is nuts! He says he is prescribing me something called Risperidone. He then asks me what pharmacy I use and I reluctantly tell him. He tells me that I can pick up my medication today. I say ok and immediately I plan on throwing the medication away. I am not going to put that poison into my body. You can forget about it!
As I am leaving his office, he tells me to check in at the front desk so the secretary can schedule me for the next visit. I really do not want to come back to this hell hole, but I know my wife will insist on it. As I approach the desk, the secretary asks for my name. I get annoyed. Didn't I give her my name already when I came in? Did she already forget? I tell her my name again and she schedules me for my next appointment in four weeks. She then hands me a card with the day and time on it. I grab the card and hurry out of the door. I am very pissed off about this visit. I feel like this was a complete waste of my time when I could have been doing something more important. Like building that Enterprise for Mr. Gates. I think when I get home I will do some research on this "Schizoaffective Disorder" the doctor was talking about because he obviously is a quack doctor. I want to be better prepared for my next visit.
Stay Tuned For Part Two Of The Simply Skyler Series...
-David Lee Chu Sarchet
Christian Mental Health Advocate
Check out the Christ-Centered Mental Health Ministry Website
Check out the other Christ-Centered Mental Health Ministry Website
Eventually, I arrive at my stop and I pull the bus cord. The bus comes to a complete stop and as I am getting off of the bus, I feel every eye staring at me. It is very unnerving. However, I just ignore it because I understand that the average person cannot possibly grasp what it is like to be so amazing. I begin the long trek to the psychiatrist's office. I notice the birds flying in the air. I wish I was a bird sometimes. Maybe if I was, then I could fly freely. Don't get me wrong, I love my wife. I really do, but sometimes I feel like she does not really allow me to be me. She is always telling me that I need to do this or do that and to remember this. It kind of irritates me because sometimes I just want to do my own thing. Like building the Enterprise for Bill Gates. I really need to get on that because I promised him I would. But, my wife keeps on giving me these meaningless distractions. As I am walking, I think I see a flying cat with a human face laughing at me, but I decide to ignore it. It's probably not laughing at me anyways. It probably just heard a funny joke or something. I admit that it is pretty strange to see a cat that flies and that the cat has a human face. But, oh well, life is strange sometimes.
Finally, I make it to the psychiatrist's office and my first impression is that it is tiny. Only about four people are sitting in the waiting area and it is already cramped. I hate cramped spaces. I approach the front desk and give the secretary my name. She looks me up on her computer and then asks for my insurance card. As I am handing my insurance card to her, I notice she is wearing a Cincinnati Bengals bracelet. I absolutely loathe that team, but I do not say anything. I figure she knows nothing about Football anyway. I quietly take my seat next to a heavyset African-American man, whom I nod at, and he nods back at me. I slip on my music once more as I wait for Dr. Terry Goodman. I do not know what to expect, but I figure it cannot be all that bad.
The wait seems like it is taking an eternity, but it only took about thirty minutes. Dr. Goodman finally comes out and calls my name. I quickly get up and say hi to him. He smiles at me and asks me how I am doing.
"Fine," I reply as we walk into his office. His office is immaculate. I can see he definitely is making a lot of money. The first thing I notice is the big solid Oak desk in the center of the room and all of the degrees he has posted on the wall behind him. Then, I notice his bookshelf with all kinds of books about Psychology on it. My first impression is this guy must be pretty smart. But, obviously not as smart as me, though.
"So, what brings you into my office, Skyler?" Dr. Goodman asks me. I think the question is pretty absurd because I am sure that my wife already spoke to him. I breathe a sigh.
"I am not sure. My wife wanted me to come in to see you" I answer him, as I cross my arms. I think he is noticing me tapping my foot. I try not to but I am really nervous, though. He writes something down on his notepad. What is he writing?
"Do you hear things that aren't really there, Skyler?" He proceeds to ask me. Why would he ask me that for? How can I possibly hear things that aren't there? Maybe this "doctor" is not as smart as he appears to be.
"No, but sometimes my wife thinks so..." My voice trails off. He looks at me with a concerned look on his face.
"What do you mean?" He asks me, but this time he is not smiling. My nervousness begins to ramp up. I begin biting my bottom lip.
"Well, sometimes my wife says that she does not hear Bill Gates talking to me, but that is because he is talking to me telepathically. I understand why she would not understand that and that seems crazy to her, but I am not crazy, though. Dr. Goodman writes something else down into his notepad before looking back up again.
"Tell me, how has your mood been lately?" He asks me and at this point, I am getting annoyed with all the questions. I glance up at the clock. It's only been five minutes.
"I guess my mood has been alright. Sometimes I get angry at my wife when she does not give me a massage. I mean, is it so much to ask for? Isn't that one of her wifely duties?" I begin displaying more signs of irritation as I am speaking. The doctor writes more things down in his notepad. I really wish that I could see what he is writing.
"How is your sleep by the way? Are you getting a full eight hours of sleep each night?" This question surprises me because I was not expecting it. Why is he asking me about my sleep patterns?
"Not really," I reply honestly, "Most nights I'll be lucky if I get three hours of sleep, but surprisingly I still feel full of energy. I guess I do not need to sleep for eight hours!" He writes more things down in his notepad, much to my chagrin.
Finally, Dr. Goodman looks up and tells me that he suspects that I have something called Schizoaffective Disorder Bipolar Type, whatever that means. He says that it is a combination of Schizophrenia and Bipolar. Great, he thinks I belong in the looney bin. He then proceeds to assure me that everything will be alright as long as I take the medications he prescribed me. The medication, he says, will reduce my "hallucinations" and may help me have a stable mood and also help me sleep. I groan at this. I am not so sure if I want to take medication. There is nothing wrong with me. I do not hallucinate. This doctor is nuts! He says he is prescribing me something called Risperidone. He then asks me what pharmacy I use and I reluctantly tell him. He tells me that I can pick up my medication today. I say ok and immediately I plan on throwing the medication away. I am not going to put that poison into my body. You can forget about it!
As I am leaving his office, he tells me to check in at the front desk so the secretary can schedule me for the next visit. I really do not want to come back to this hell hole, but I know my wife will insist on it. As I approach the desk, the secretary asks for my name. I get annoyed. Didn't I give her my name already when I came in? Did she already forget? I tell her my name again and she schedules me for my next appointment in four weeks. She then hands me a card with the day and time on it. I grab the card and hurry out of the door. I am very pissed off about this visit. I feel like this was a complete waste of my time when I could have been doing something more important. Like building that Enterprise for Mr. Gates. I think when I get home I will do some research on this "Schizoaffective Disorder" the doctor was talking about because he obviously is a quack doctor. I want to be better prepared for my next visit.
Stay Tuned For Part Two Of The Simply Skyler Series...
-David Lee Chu Sarchet
Christian Mental Health Advocate
Check out the Christ-Centered Mental Health Ministry Website
Check out the other Christ-Centered Mental Health Ministry Website
No comments:
Post a Comment