Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Today was a pleasant trip to the quaint enviorns and into the ivy covered Tudor cottage on which my old and trusted Psychiatrist has nailed her shingle. Among the Persian carpets and antique desks that befit the drawingroom of a European sensualist, my Doctor suggested that I go to the hospital. My psychosis had reached a level of great discomfort. When I revealed the type and content of my delusions and hallucinations she was disturbed. My irregular work schedual had deprived me of regular sleep and the opportunity to take as much psychiatric medicine as often as I needed and apparently it caught up with me. I briefly imagined a pleasant stay on a nice ward in Westchester and it was inticing: the food, the women and the drugs. But I shrugged if off as a willow-the-wisp of my imagination and also thought of: a strange roomate, group therapy and endless television. Throw in a Doctor or Nurse with a crappy attitude and the specter of hospitalization loomed on the horizon like a storm cloud at sea, and me in a very small dinghy! So I offered to dope myself up, at regular intervals with Perphenazine, the Dom Peringnon of older anti-psychotics, and call the Dr. on Thursday. A bargain was struck and my hospitalization will be honored in the breech, but now it is sink or swim. Work has been sporatic and the time off is welcomed by this wary-eyed mariner, now standing watch in the crow's nest of sanity. And at such a golden time of year, with sunshine, breezes and sudden thundershowers. The smell of wildflowers has adorned the atmosphere and the wind is love-sick with Spring. The goddess of nature, her long and lusterous hair bedecked in Daisies and Lavender, reclines on her starry charpoy, far up in heaven and wistfully sighs at her creation: the waving grass, the majestic trees and sapphire skys.