It’s official. I lost the little slip of paper with the prescription for the Adderall. I started the day by speed-dialing the Buddhaman’s secretary. The last time this happened, they called and refilled it, but the bad news now was that I was going to have to walk in and give him a co-pay simply for writing it out again in his chicken scratch and scrawl. Blech.
I felt like I was being fined for my forgetfulness. I sulked in the waiting room for what seemed like eternity. I tried to recall what life was like before the prescriptions, before the assembly line of shrinks and different meds. Finally, a tall, big-busted blonde walked out and the Buddhaman motioned me to come in.
“How did you lose it?” he asked, as he sifted through the row of manila folders. I felt a sudden surge of anger as if he were crucifying me for my disorder. I already felt bad enough.
“Don’t a lot of your patients lose things all the time?” I asked sarcastically.
“They lose a lot of things, but none of them have lost the prescription,” he said.
“Oh well,” I said angrily. “It happens to the best of us.”
I get the feeling that he thinks I’m not taking the meds. He scrawled out the prescription again, and I snatched it from him. He asked me how things were going with the replacement shrink.
The nice shrink with warm eyes left three weeks ago, passing on my troubled history to a complete stranger. The fact that they harped me for the co-pay and shuffled me in and out of the office made me feel all the worse. I was truthful and said that the woman didn’t exactly jive with me. I needed someone who told me things like they were, kind of like him.
The Buddhaman replied that I made others anxious with my anxiety, that I reeked of insecurity and anger—in the same way some people stank of body odor or bad breath. He’s always been the messenger for bad news, which most people avoid. He laughed a little. “I’d give her a chance,” he said. “It will take some time to get to know you; you’re a complex person.” “Complex,” a code word for pain in the ass.
It got me thinking to the short-lived relationships that I’ve had in my life, especially the last one. Was the unraveling of the relationship my anger, impulsiveness, and the ADD? If so, then I might as well give up on the idea of a relationship, I thought.
I smiled, shook his hand, thanked him for his wisdoms (eye rolling here) and made a beeline straight for the pharmacy. I clung onto the prescription as if it were a lifeline. No way in hell was I going to let go.
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