joebobmichael
07-09-06, 04:28
Hi all this a blog from my new book Man, Interrupted. I think you can relate to this.
The taxi pulled in front of the sign that read Within Reach Hospital. It suddenly began to rain. Was that an omen? It dawned on me why you always see a cab pulling up in front of a hospital in those movies about people with emotional problems. The director wanted to symbolize that this was just the beginning of the journey, not the end. When did my problems really begin? I have thought about that question for years and years. I guess my first anxiety attack came when I was five. Of course back then they didn't call it that. At that time my Father and Mother had just gotten a divorce in Kansas and the court awarded custody of me, my brother and sister, to my Mother.That would have been great, but unfortunately my mother said she wasn't getting enough child support for all of us and kept only my sister. I still remember vividly them dragging me out of her car as I clung to the seat. I stared at my sister as they drove away toward Minnesota, my mom's home state. A couple years later, living with my dad and step mom number two, I ended up being taken to the emergency room for some imaginary pain in my back. In retrospect that was the beginning of the end that led me here. Why couldn't it have been me instead of my sister? The vision of them driving away haunts me even to this day. Why did it affect me and not my brother? My mind was always working. I couldn't stop it. Its weird that I'd even made it this far. Just three days ago I was sitting on my butt wondering if I had the nerve to come to Berkeley and the famous Within Reach Psychiatric Hospital. In the movies they called the hospital something else. I guess for legal reasons. But just look at all the books and good ole Within Reach was the hospital. The cab pulled up to the house in front Within Reach where I would be staying. Somehow it looked better in the brochure they sent me. Hell, I had to wait almost a year to get in. I guess after suffering for twenty-five years, what's another year, right? The cabbie got out and pulled my suitcase out of the trunk. He looked like a cabbie. The look of a guy who never slept and whos diet consisted of endless cups of coffee and unfiltered cigarettes. Whose idea of a healthy diet was an occasional fish sandwich at McDonalds. I got out and was debating what kind of tip I should give him, since I'd already given him the fare in advance at the airport. As I turned to look at him, he darted into his cab and drove off. I knew what he was thinking. He was afraid I was a wacko and feared I might do something to him. No wonder he hadn't said a word all the way here. I would be thinking about this way into the night. What can I say? This is the life of a guy with OCD. I grabbed my luggage and opened the front door. "Are you James the new patient?" A tall skinny guy said this to me as he blocked my pathway. I nodded yes. "James you are not allowed to use this door, it's only for staff." He told me to go back around to the front of the house. Of course that was not the greeting I was expecting but at least it took my mind off the cabbie. I stumbled around to the front looking for the entrance when I was pleasantly surprised by this cute blond who popped out of nowhere. "You must be James O'Bailey. We've been expecting you. Take your luggage and follow me to your room." I grabbed my luggage and walked in, but somehow the blond disappeared. I looked around until I spotted blondie talking to the dude who gave me that great welcoming party. I started to yell out to her but she ran off into another room. I figured this was a good time to go use the bathroom since I'd been holding it in during the cab ride. I walked up to a crew cut guy and asked him where the head was. "Number one or number two?" He asked. "I got to take a crap." "We don't talk that way around here, James. It's number one or number two." I knew this guy was going to be a problem. "Well sir, when I go do to number two, I usually have a little number one going on, too. So what
The taxi pulled in front of the sign that read Within Reach Hospital. It suddenly began to rain. Was that an omen? It dawned on me why you always see a cab pulling up in front of a hospital in those movies about people with emotional problems. The director wanted to symbolize that this was just the beginning of the journey, not the end. When did my problems really begin? I have thought about that question for years and years. I guess my first anxiety attack came when I was five. Of course back then they didn't call it that. At that time my Father and Mother had just gotten a divorce in Kansas and the court awarded custody of me, my brother and sister, to my Mother.That would have been great, but unfortunately my mother said she wasn't getting enough child support for all of us and kept only my sister. I still remember vividly them dragging me out of her car as I clung to the seat. I stared at my sister as they drove away toward Minnesota, my mom's home state. A couple years later, living with my dad and step mom number two, I ended up being taken to the emergency room for some imaginary pain in my back. In retrospect that was the beginning of the end that led me here. Why couldn't it have been me instead of my sister? The vision of them driving away haunts me even to this day. Why did it affect me and not my brother? My mind was always working. I couldn't stop it. Its weird that I'd even made it this far. Just three days ago I was sitting on my butt wondering if I had the nerve to come to Berkeley and the famous Within Reach Psychiatric Hospital. In the movies they called the hospital something else. I guess for legal reasons. But just look at all the books and good ole Within Reach was the hospital. The cab pulled up to the house in front Within Reach where I would be staying. Somehow it looked better in the brochure they sent me. Hell, I had to wait almost a year to get in. I guess after suffering for twenty-five years, what's another year, right? The cabbie got out and pulled my suitcase out of the trunk. He looked like a cabbie. The look of a guy who never slept and whos diet consisted of endless cups of coffee and unfiltered cigarettes. Whose idea of a healthy diet was an occasional fish sandwich at McDonalds. I got out and was debating what kind of tip I should give him, since I'd already given him the fare in advance at the airport. As I turned to look at him, he darted into his cab and drove off. I knew what he was thinking. He was afraid I was a wacko and feared I might do something to him. No wonder he hadn't said a word all the way here. I would be thinking about this way into the night. What can I say? This is the life of a guy with OCD. I grabbed my luggage and opened the front door. "Are you James the new patient?" A tall skinny guy said this to me as he blocked my pathway. I nodded yes. "James you are not allowed to use this door, it's only for staff." He told me to go back around to the front of the house. Of course that was not the greeting I was expecting but at least it took my mind off the cabbie. I stumbled around to the front looking for the entrance when I was pleasantly surprised by this cute blond who popped out of nowhere. "You must be James O'Bailey. We've been expecting you. Take your luggage and follow me to your room." I grabbed my luggage and walked in, but somehow the blond disappeared. I looked around until I spotted blondie talking to the dude who gave me that great welcoming party. I started to yell out to her but she ran off into another room. I figured this was a good time to go use the bathroom since I'd been holding it in during the cab ride. I walked up to a crew cut guy and asked him where the head was. "Number one or number two?" He asked. "I got to take a crap." "We don't talk that way around here, James. It's number one or number two." I knew this guy was going to be a problem. "Well sir, when I go do to number two, I usually have a little number one going on, too. So what