{"id":65039,"date":"2014-01-16T17:18:17","date_gmt":"2014-01-16T22:18:17","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=65039"},"modified":"2014-03-07T13:57:53","modified_gmt":"2014-03-07T18:57:53","slug":"west-side-story","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2014\/01\/16\/west-side-story\/","title":{"rendered":"West Side Story"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"psychiatry-Head\"<\/a>

Image: Design of Signage<\/p><\/div>\n

I like my psychiatrist, but I often find that occupying fifty minutes with an account of my tedious life feels like a high price to pay for responsible prescription.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you try to make him laugh?\u201d my dad asked, when he picked me up from my first-ever appointment. \u201cDo you want to be his favorite patient?\u201d (My dad visited a therapist briefly in the 1970s, hence his expertise.) I explained loftily that this was a medical situation <\/em>and not like that at all, and that the doctor had been amazed that with my family history I had never been treated before. Then I admitted that yes, of course I wanted to be his favorite.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen I saw my guy,\u201d said my dad, \u201cI sang to him.\u201d<\/p>\n

And he began to sing, very beautifully, to the tune of the Love Story<\/em> theme,<\/p>\n

\n

Dog food is the king
I wish it weren\u2019t but I can\u2019t do anything
It\u2019s so damn good it even makes the sparrows sing
And grown men weep and angels cry.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

There was a moment of silence.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did he do?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe made me turn around so I wasn\u2019t playing to his reaction all the time and had to actually engage.\u201d <\/p>\n

* * *<\/center><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re an M.D.,\u201d I once said to my doctor.\u00a0\u201cYou spend your days at the hospital\u201d\u2014I happened to know this\u2014\u201cand presumably deal with really unwell patients, then you come here and listen to people like me, and our nonproblems. You must despise us so much. I would. Do you despise us?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d he said, making a note.<\/p>\n

* * *<\/center><\/p>\n

I have been to the psychiatric ward at that particular hospital, visiting friends and loved ones, a number of times this year. Each time I sort of hoped I would run into my doctor. I wouldn\u2019t have given him away, if I had. I was planning on a quick, roguish wink. It would have been our secret.<\/p>\n

Maybe I have unrealistic expectations for such encounters. The first time I visited a psychiatric ward was in college. A friend was suffering from depression and campus health services had sent her to the university hospital for a brief stay. The nurse went to fetch my friend and instructed me to wait for her in the sort of group lounge where most visitors congregated. And there, sitting on the couch and watching a Terminator<\/em> film, was a girl who lived in my dorm. I did not know this girl terribly well\u2014although she was distinctive for always sporting a Henry Higgins\u2013style tweed hat\u2014but I did<\/em> know that she was supposedly at home in Hawaii on some extended vacation, because people had been vocally envying the weather she must be enjoying.<\/p>\n

She was wearing a hospital gown, and the tweed hat. She gave me a wink, said, \u201cMum\u2019s the word,\u201d and turned back to the movie.<\/p>\n

* * *<\/center><\/p>\n

Only once has a fellow patient engaged with me in the waiting room of my psychiatrist\u2019s office. It was a teenage boy, and when I greeted him, he launched into an excitable monologue about the age and architectural style of the building in which we were standing, the architectural tropes of its era, and Manhattan architecture generally.<\/p>\n

\u201cDaniel, that\u2019s enough,\u201d said his father gently, and then, turning to me,\u00a0\u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, it\u2019s fine,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I like my psychiatrist, but I often find that occupying fifty minutes with an account of my tedious life feels like a high price to pay for responsible prescription. \u201cDo you try to make him laugh?\u201d my dad asked, when he picked me up from my first-ever appointment. \u201cDo you want to be his favorite […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":178,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[4393,13115],"tags":[12582,12584,12581,8527,12583],"class_list":["post-65039","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-first-person","category-our-daily-correspondent","tag-doctors","tag-love-story","tag-medication","tag-mental-health","tag-psychiatry"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nWest Side Story by Sadie Stein<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"January 16, 2014 \u2013 I like my psychiatrist, but I often find that occupying 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