Weblog entries posted on this day.
About a month and a half ago, I received an information package of psycho-medical centrum Parnassia by mail. It had two booklets, and, apparently, a writtin invitation for an intake meeting with a Ms. Sibie. The problem ,however, was that I saw the booklets, but not the letter.
Since nothing happend in the weeks after I had gone to the doctor and had talked to the local psychologist — who would set me up an appoitment with a psychiatrist — I decided to give the doctor's secretary a call. She would sort it out for me.
Days later, the psychologist called me to tell me that I had missed the appointment that she had set up for me. I went through the stuff they had send me again, and indeed, found the letter. Argh. I took the telephone number that was on the letter to make a new appointment myself. I don't remember exactly on what day I called, but I think it was about two weeks ago. The new appointment had been set for today.
Since I happen to live a two minute walk from Parnassia, I figured leaving home 20 minutes early would cover it and leave a nice margin.
I arrived at Parnassia and talked to a receptionist via an intercom thingy. I told her I had an appointment with Ms. S. Sibie. She told me she had never heard of her. ...
She then made a phonecall and told me that I had to be at another place — a good 10/15 kilometers away from there.
I asked some guy on the street where to go, and he gave me directions. While I was getting on the tram, my cellular rang, it was S. Sibie, asking me where I was. I told her about the misunderstandings that had taken place, and asked her whether she wanted t reschedule appointment. She told me I could still come, be it for a shorter session than usual. She also gave me some more specific directions — it appears it would take about half an hour and involve a little bus ride.
During the tram ride, I tried to focus on the names of the stops to not miss the stop at which I had to get and get on the bus. Either I didn't focus enough, or non of the stops is called like the name I had been given, because I found myself at the last stop of that tram, and that was not it. I asked the tram driver where I could find this specific bus I was looking for, he answered, and I went on my way... walking.
When I finally had the bus stop in sight, I saw the bus coming, too. I was not going to make it. I thought to myself I could start to think really negative things right now, but I fucking won't
. I watched the bus pass me by, and set down, waiting for the next. The next one sure did keep me waiting. After it had finally arrived, it took only a few minutes, tops, untill I had to get off again.
The bus driver pointed out the Parnassia complex. It was huge! I expected another office-like building — I found a small village instead. The numbering of the buildings in this village was not the most logical I had ever seen, which caused another search (during which I came across two gorgeous women).
When I finally found the building I was looking for, it was more than an hour later than the appointment we'd set. *grumble* I got inside, set myself in charming mode, and approached the secretary. She said that Ms. Sibie was already in session with the next client, but that they'd arrange a short meeting to at least get to know eachoter. She send me upstairs, where I would finally get to meet Sibie.
So there I was, finally talking to Ms. S. Sibie. I was not as anxious as I was with the doctor and the psychologist. This surprised me a little, but reckoned this as a good thing. First, I explained — in a nutshell — all the things that had gone wrong, which caused me to not show up on the first appointment, and show up late on the second. Then we got the routine questions the things I feel. Ofcourse, I recognized all signs of depression (and a tad manic). We also touched the surface on my past, I guess we'll do more on that the next time.
The intake didn't take as long as it usually would (so I was told), but I was still surprised by the length. It appeared she had stretched it up for me a little. That's nice. I went back to the secretary to make a new appointment, which she set to be on April first. When she asked whether this was ok with me, I told her only if it's not going to turn out as a April first joke to get back to me on missing the first appointment and being late on the second
. She assured me that's not how they do business (laughing), and that made it official.
Back at the bus stop, there were some people that are most likely Parnassia regulars — these people appeared to be more lost than I've ever been, nomatter how much drugs I was one. Two of them talked to me. I understood the individual words, but I don't think there was any context.
Once I got home, I put on my Champion Iverson outfit, and went outside to play some ball. I played for several hours. I was invited to play indoors later, but I decided not to since the chances of an anxiety attack would be close to 100%.
To be continued...
I've had this deviantArt account for some time now, but I never bothered to upload any of my work. Today (or yesterday, technically), I finally took that jump into the deep. I uploaded ten pieces — three photos and seven drawings. The response I've been getting so far has been really nice.
Want to get rid of ads? Subscribe to deviantART now!
Nah, I'll just add #deviantART iframe { display: none } to the userContent.css in my Mozilla profile.
By the way, it was pretty weird to see work of FatSatan (a fellow Fragile Mind) being discussed on one of the 'blogs I visit (see my comment).
This day, elsewhere.