Relevance

So, I met my new doctor today re: the craziness in my head.

First of all, let me say that it was an odd situation, since we met at a juvenile lock-down facility. To back up about 18 months, my doctor in the Magic City was a child psychiatrist, but all the other doctors were full for months and she took people under 30 on occasion. We met, I liked her, I think she was relieved to talk about something other than ADHD and detention, and we had a successful relationship. When I jumped ship and moved on down the road, I asked for a referral. She referred me to a fellow doctor who practiced in the Capitol City. I didn't even think about it but, of course, her familiarity with doctors in other towns is related to her line of work. So, my new shrink is a child psychiatrist, too, and her office is in juvie hall. Nice.

That being said, she was reviewing my medical records and announced that I had an anxiety disorder. Of course, I knew I used to have anxiety (before the dolls), but it never occurred to my that I had an actual anxiety disorder. I mean, it's not like I had panic attacks or OCD. I mean, the fact that terror would clutch my heart at the thought of driving in traffic in a city of 3 million people didn't seem all that abnormal, even after it went away.

So, it turns out I have the full trifecta of craziness: depression, insomnia and anxiety. And that made me anxious. OK, it didn't, but it'd be funny if it did.

So, after my appointment, I remembered a card I received from my high school science teacher for graduation. It was a full-blown disaster scenario of the graduation ceremony, as predicted by the graduate. I believe it started with a small stumble and ended up with the graduate in the orchestra pit and the ceremony ruined.

The point is, after six years with this teacher [I went to a small school where we had some of the same teachers in junior high and high school, smart asses, and I took at least five science classes over grades 7-12 from him, even though you wouldn't know by from talking to me. I probably still have the award for taking that many science classes in my garage. I'm pretty sure even he is glad I'm not a doctor, after witnessing my inability to grasp anything related to physics. We were building rockets one day in class and he asked me to explain how we would measure the exponential trajectory component (ok, i made that part up). I got to about step three and was stumped. He prodded me for further explanation and I said, "what do I look like, a rocket scientist?" It's probably the only time I'd seen joy in his face, as he was a stone-faced, cynical teacher tired of putting up with shit from snot-nosed kids. It was also the only time that phrase was a relevant part of my lexicon. Anyway, this was a huge tangent. I know it's really distracting...]

Where was I? Oh, the long and the short of it is that he recognized my irrational murphy's law attitude towards life and all things related. It was funny at the time. It's apropos now. And still funny.