Four days after the exact middle- The great misunderstanding begins.
I didn’t sleep well.
I was agitated, confused.
I wanted to leave.
I was getting more and more frustrated by the hour – I couldn’t completely explain why, though I felt I didn’t belong where I was and I had the sense that the people in this place could not help me.
I was confused. I didn’t know what had happened to me on the night of the exact middle, but I knew it held some deeper meaning to me. I felt compelled to explain what happened, to make sense of it and to put it into my own terms, but something was stopping me. My normal intuition and perception were lacking for some reason. This frustrated me too.
I didn’t understand. I was angry. I had been given medicine to “help” me to feel better, but the longer I was on it (this was the fourth day), the more confused I felt, the more distracted and unfocused I became. I just wanted to go home, and it seemed like no one really cared when or even if that happened.
I realized I was pacing around my room.
Then Connie walked in.
“How are you, James?”
“Fine, I’m fine.”
“Would you like to sit down?”
“Not really.”
“Do you know why you are here?”
“I jumped at a window.”
“Do you know how you were acting before that?”
“Not like myself. Sorry… uh, are you my doctor?”
“Yes.”
“Doctor..?”
“Connie”
“Doctor Connie?”
“Just Connie. I’m Connie Ryan.”
“Dr. Ryan, I…”
“Just Connie.”
“Sorry?”
“It’s just Connie.”
“I thought you said you were my doctor.”
“I am overseeing you. My name is Connie Ryan and I’m a nurse practitioner.”
“Oh… so you’re not my doctor…?”
“I’m overseeing you.”
“Is there a doctor in charge of me?”
“There is a doctor who oversees my cases, yes.”
“I see. May I speak to him or her?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m overseeing you.”
“I understand that, but am I able to speak to my doctor?”
“He may see you if he needs to, yes.”
“But I can’t see him now?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Ummm… I feel like I should be allowed to speak to my doctor.”
“James, I am your doctor.”
“Nurse practitioner…”
“Okay, we’re done here.”
Then she abruptly got up and started to walk out of my room. I panicked, I had fucked something up, made her upset. I had just wanted to see my doctor.
I ran out of the room to her and I asked if that was it… She said that’s all she needed right then.
I said “but I have more to tell you!”
She said “Like what?”
I said, “I have OCD.”
She said, “What are your symptoms?”
I tried to explain. We were in the hall now. She was looking at me impatiently. I said I had thoughts.. or something.
She said “What kind?”
I tried to explain… bad thoughts, feeling bad, scared.
“What are your compulsions?”
“I think… things… I rethink and over think.”
She said, “those aren’t compulsions. Compulsions are like turning on and off light switches, that kind of thing.”
I said, probably a little angrily, “mine isn’t like that!”
She said, “Thank you. We’re done here,” and she walked quickly away.
I’d fucked it up…
I knew that, but there wasn’t anything else I could do…
So I waited…
And I started to pace around the ward, worried….
The Absolute Center of Everything 