From The Trick Is To Keep Breathing:
Preparation for the Doctor
A short exercise lasting anything up to forty minutes.
[The surgery is blue. The patient stands while the doctor scratches his neck, sits, rifles through pieces of paper. Some of the pieces of paper fall and he picks them up, sighs, grins tightly to himself, scratches the back of his neck with his ring finger then looks up.]
DOCTOR:
Sit. [Pause] So how are things what's new who are you anyway?
PATIENT:
I'm tired and I still need somebody to talk to. I need to get less angry about everything. I'm going nuts.
DOCTOR:
Don't tell me how to do my job. Relax. You can talk to me. I made a double appointment so we can have twenty minutes. Go ahead. I'm listening.
PATIENT:
What can I say that makes sense in twenty minutes?
DOCTOR:
Try. You're not trying. You're looking for something that doesn't exist, that's why you're not happy. Look at me. I'm under no illusions. That's why I'm in control.
PATIENT:
How can I be more like you?
DOCTOR:
That's not what I meant. That's not what I meant at all. Envy is a destructive emotion. Besides I had to fight hard to get to feel like this. I'm buggered if I'm giving away the fruits of my hard work for nothing. You must tell me how you are.
PATIENT:
I don't seem to know how I am except bad. There's nothing there but anger and something scary all the time. I don't want to get bitter because it will ruin my looks.
DOCTOR:
Maybe a hobby would help. Facetiousness is not an attractive trait in a young woman.
PATIENT:
I know I know. I can't help myself.
DOCTOR:
OK. We'll try these green ones for a change. And step up the anti-depressants. Don't drink or drive. Make an appointment for a few days time and try to be more helpful in future.
While I try to imagine him shouting the last bit, he comes out of the surgery and takes in a little boy with a huge stye on one eye. Maybe he guesses I sit out here rehearsing.
IMPATIENT:
OK let's talk straight. You ask me to talk then you look at your watch. What am I supposed to take from that? This whole thing is ridiculous. Can't you send me to someone who's paid to have me waste their time? You don't know what to do with me but you keep telling me to come back. And stop sending that woman to see me. All it does is make me guilty and secretive.
DOCTOR:
Look, this is reactive depression. I don't see that sending you to a specialist will help things. Talk to your family if you can't talk to me.
IMPATIENT:
I have no family.
DOCTOR:
Don't be melodramatic.
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