high anxiety
Apr. 30th, 2001 04:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phosfateGo in tomorrow for my annual brain tweaking with Dr C. He won't let me have meds unless I come in and visit - stupid man and his stupid medical ethics!
Something about his waiting room always makes me feel as though I'm scouting locations in Burkettsville for my senior film thesis. I don't know why. He's a perfectly nice man, his actual office is quite comfy (I envy him his Prozac[TM] coffee mug and wish I had one for work), and after making sure that I haven't slit my wrists or set fire to any neighbors' pets, we usually fill out the appointment mocking the Republican party. It's either the lighting in the waiting room, or I worry that one of the other patients has maybe waited just a little too long to go in, and will suddenly pull a gun or, worse, start talking to me.
Now that I think about it, it's an awful lot like riding a city bus.
Something about his waiting room always makes me feel as though I'm scouting locations in Burkettsville for my senior film thesis. I don't know why. He's a perfectly nice man, his actual office is quite comfy (I envy him his Prozac[TM] coffee mug and wish I had one for work), and after making sure that I haven't slit my wrists or set fire to any neighbors' pets, we usually fill out the appointment mocking the Republican party. It's either the lighting in the waiting room, or I worry that one of the other patients has maybe waited just a little too long to go in, and will suddenly pull a gun or, worse, start talking to me.
Now that I think about it, it's an awful lot like riding a city bus.
