I just met Bob this spring. Handsome, smart guy with a record of cultural refinement. Bob has the art gallery in Fort Langley. Andrea has been my friend for more than a decade. The friendship began discussing philosophy at a Vancouver coffeeshop. We're still discussing philosophy and God. Laura likes them both. They're getting married next week. We stopped in Fort Langley like we often do, returning from one of our motorcycle jaunts to Harrison's.
"They're getting married at the Fort Langley Community Hall", Laura said, "Andrea is going to look so beautiful." The Community Hall is a historic site more reminiscent of Boston environs than west coast. Andrea is beautiful. She's one of those blond angels whose good looks conceals her big brain. She's got heart and soul too.
I hate weddings. I'd rather be motorcycling or camping. Bob and Andrea are special though. Vivian Seegers, our First Nations Anglican minister friend is taking part in the ceremony with sweetgrass and smudge. Laura is getting a new dress. I'll have to find the navy blue Tilley Sports Jacket I've rolled up and stuffed somewhere. It's going to be too hot for my black leather sports jacket. Laura hinted she'd rather I took the truck since she's going to be wearing a new dress and high heels.
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Sunday, July 25, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Motorcycle Ride with Gilbert -Vancouver to Harrison's
Gilbert, Laura and I mounted the Harley Electraglyde in Kitsilano. Gilbert didn't so much as mount as get his head ducked down like a policeman might do for a handcuffed criminal to get him going straight into the TBag box. Once in side his head comes up the middle and he's fine. He has two harness straps that attach inside the box keeping him from jumping out. Nonetheless he gets his paws out and sort of sits and hangs over the side. When we get going he likes to get as much wind as possible and looks around from the rear to see where we're going, hair blowing back from his face. The box itself is strapped to the rack on the back luggage pannier.
Traffic was light Saturday morning. Our first stop was Trev Deely. I had to ask Darren a question about my Electraglyde. I'm still figuring out how to work the stereo. Nifty little handlebar channel changers and such save you from crashing trying to work the dials. Laura needed new gloves and found a pair she loved. Gilbert needed a pee.
On the road again heading out Hastings Gilbert was fussy. The passing Firetruck got him howling in that puppy howl voice of his that had Laura and me laughing. It's kind of like Tiny Tim imitating Johnny Cash yodeling. Until Gilbert I didn't know dogs voices 'changed'. Underneath his fur he probably has boyish pimples too. Maybe our laughter offended him but after that he was so fussy barking and moving about that I pulled over to make sure he wasn't caught up in his harness. He wasn't. He was just hot and bothered. He's a real biker dog and can't stand the slow stop and start pace of city traffick.
The Barnett Highway quieted him down with it's 60 to 80 k winding sections and the wind off the Burrard Inlet./>
It was almost noon with the temperature soaring. I just thought it was a good time for MacDonald's. The Poco Golden Arches cynched the deal. I love a quarter pounder with cheese. Laura had a cheeseburger. And Gilbert loves MacDonald's. They have the best 'big paddy' a little dog could ever want. That an a glass of ice water had Gilbert ready to move in. When it was time to go he was all for staying and ordering another paddy.
Normally we'd be in Harrison's by this time. It's only a 100 k. It's the stops along the way that make it so much fun. Back on the bike we next pulled over for a fill up. The bigger 6 gallon tank cost me $20. My Roadster tank was about 2 1/2 gallons and always cost under $10. I'd have to fill up every 120 k or so. We got Gilbert a bottled water at the gas station. I forgot his folding canvas water dish but he was satisfied to take it from my hand drinking his fill. I can't get over smiling at Laura lying back in the roomy Electraglyde back seat like it was a throne chair with Gilbert's paw on her shoulder.
The traffic always thins by Mission and then it's open highway. A lot of other bikes on the road too. We were simply flying. The Electraglyde with it's greater weight is so much more steady and stable. It's a bit like driving a car really though I feel some strain in my forearms controlling the bike. I expect I'm going to bulk up some in the upper body. It's an incredibly comfortable seat something I remember from renting. The only reason for pulling over is the need to fill up on gas. Whenever I glance in the side mirrors I catch a glimpse of Gilbert having a ball of a time.
The green farmer's fields flew by then the lakes with the bullfights and ducks. We were up to the Nicomen Slough in no time, a couple of blue heron flying by. Then it was the cool of the pine forest beginning of the hills. We pulled over at the the Sasquatch Inn atHemlock Valley turn off. Gilbert was happy to have a pee. Someone had spilt ice cubes on the grass and he just lay down and played in them. Once we stopped moving we felt the heat. A couple of canned soft drinks from the liquor store quenched the thirst as other bikers mulled about and talked about bikes, the dog, the road. A nice couple on a Dyna had a real down home way about them.
"I saw your dog and just had to see how you carried him on the back. Another good reason to get a decker." he said.
"He really wants a dog," she said.
Laura and the girl talked about dogs and kids for a while.
Then a few more bikes pulled up and joined in the standing around easy going every biker welcome crowd.
"I had an Electraglyde but I traded it in on the Ultra. It's a lot heavier. The electraglyde was more maneuverable but the Ultra rides smoother on the highway," he was telling me as his girlfriend stood beside her own Sporty.
We headed up for the winding road through the hills stretch before the road opened up in the flats of farmland around Aggassi.
Coming into Harrison's and pulling up to the Executive was a rush. At $15 extra for Gilbert they're pet friendly. Our favorite the Bungalo Cabins was booked all summer. The Hotel and Spa claims it's pet friendly but charges an extra $100 for a pet. "That's why I've never seen dogs there." said Laura.
I remembered having my old dog with me when I rented a cabin there for my mom and dad's visit a decade or so back and they certainly were more 'pet friendly' then.
We like the Executive. We found it on another overnight motorcycle ride out here. It's right across from the public hot springs pool and just a few more steps to the malacon. The restaurant and room service are great. They have safe underground parking for the bike too.
Checked in with our stuff in the room and Laura and I changed to bathing suits we headed for the beach. Laura showed Gilbert she'd brought along his new rooster sqeaky toy so he was happy.
The dragon boat race competition was on with all the gaudy dressed participants walking about with life jackets and paddles. The town was packed like Mardi Gras. Gilbert was in heaven with the increased number of dog butts to sniff. Dogs aren't allowed on the beach where the majority of toddlers and families hang out but down at the far end where the boat launch is there's a section of sandy beach that's very dog friendly.
Laura settled in with a book while I took Gilbert down for his first swimming lessons. I walked out in the freezing water and stood while he barked at me for a bit but certainly showed no sign of joining me. I personally wasn't keen on swimming in the cold water either. So I walked back, picked up Gilbert and brought him in with me, held him by the harness and let him get paddling propulsion and watch him shoot back to the beach. He'd fallen in the water before and escaped to shore. Now he was adept at dog paddling to shore. I was pleased and didn't push it. For now Gilbert can swim in one direction.
A half dozen other dogs joined him and he was a running fool trying to hang out with everyone from the St. Bernards to the Labs. He ran into the water with them but didn't continue on when they started swimming. He was happy as a lark with the companionship though. Even got to playing ball with one Sherpherd Chow that dropped his ball just so Gilbert would pick it up. Gilbert would bring the ball to me and I'd throw it for Shepherd chow to swim out and fetch. There's no end to the way ball dogs will go to enlist ball throwers. Their ingenuity is only surpassed by frizbee dogs.
When I finally went swimming myself and felt how cold it was I figured maybe Gilbert just needs warmer water. I dove in and swam in one direction myself.
Soaking wet Gilbert rolled in all the dirt he could find so I had to take him back to the water, wash him off then carry him up the to grass for us to go.
In the hot sun it was no time before he was fluffy again. We walked along the malacon and met with all the other dogs bored with their owners and glad to hear from Gilbert all about the goings on of all the dogs down at the other end of the beach.
Back in the room I continued reading Off Track by Alice Griffiths. It's a delightful fantasy romp with great characters and classic adventure. It's on my iPhone. Laura has a paperback. Gilbert was settled into his squeaky toy. It wasn't long before I napped.
Room service steak and prawns and a tv detective series was all I could handle after that. Laura took Gilbert for his evening constitutional and I slept like a dog till 6:00 am. I used to have a different meaning for 'slept like a dog', now I think it means slept soundly with very early morning wakening.
This morning we jogged around the lagoon. This was mercifully interrupted by other dog 'walkers' when Gilbert had to circle and wrestle and behave innappropriately canine while I had those pleasant morning chats with other dog walkers. Without the dogs you could tell us by the frumpled thrown on clothing and that 'couldn't sleep in' and 'haven't had coffee,yet' look.
Now while Laura and Gilbert nap I'm going over to the pool to 'take the baths'. When I get back Laura will be ready for breakfast. I just fed Gilbert a little Cesar wet dog food package but Gilbert will be ready for breakfast nonetheless. He's not one to miss any meal.
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Mobile Blogging from here.
Trev Deely Electraglide
But I wanted to take Laura camping one day and there was no room for her and the camping gear I'd been using on my upcountry trips. I was getting a new tire at Barnes when they showed me a Roadster that had just been traded it. I took it for a drive and fell in love with a 'bigger bike'. 1200 cc and lots of room. Now I had Laura on the back and camping gear to boot. That HOG's been my good friend for 3 years now.
The trouble was that the first ride I took up to William's Lake the clutch went. I was originally told by the Barnes salesman it was 2005 and it turned out in the sale it was 2004. I took the bike into Trev Deely and had to spend a couple of thousand dollars more than what I paid just to get it to the safe secure machine that gave me and Laura the next few years of joy. It's made me trust sales and service at Trev.
We rode in the Rides for Dad, the Santa Claus Toy Runs, the Oyster runs and I kept skipping down to Seatle and Portland just to enjoy the American side of things. What a glorious bike the Roadster was.
But along came Gilbert. He's more than a Harley Hound. He's back of me on the bike howling his puppy heart out when fire trucks go past but most trying to get his head around the back of me to see where we're going grinning with his hair blown back. It was a crowded ride when Laura got on the bike and there was now no room for even overnight gear. The saddlebags I had weren't of the large variety and probably wouldn't even hold Laura's bathroom kit. Meanwhile Gilbert wanted to take along his toys.
I was feeling kind of pressured like Zorba the Greek with the 'whole catastrophe' until I talked to Stuart at Trev. He'd been keeping me away from the touring bikes with a stick for a couple of years. Something to do with the extra detailing they had to do after I'd drooled on the new electroglydes. I even rented them in Boston and San Antonnio only to come back feeling like characters of Pilgrim's Progress who climbed over the back walls of heaven to walk on the golden streets only to be found out and booted back over the walls. I wanted to be an owner not just a renter.
"I'd stay with the 2009 or 2010 because Harley did a total make over on the electraglydes upgrading the body for a whole lot better ride. Talk to Darren, " Stuart said, "We've got a 2009 in with only 22,000 km on it I think you'd like. "
Darren naturally gave me the deal of a lifetime with Trev Deely giving me a really decent trade in on my Roadster. Considering I'd been having Trev doing the inspections and me getting whatever they figured best done when I did I wasn't surprised. However, Darren did say, "We couldn't give you a better price because there was a lot of cosmetic damage." I didn't think that was the time to wax poetic about how my Roadster beat the BMW on the 100 km logging road there and back to St. Agnes Hot Springs. Then there was the trip up through the northern Indian Reserves to attend the sweat lodge ceremonies. The roadster did amazingly well on cow paddy trails that time. A horse would have had more trouble with the ground hog holes.
"You should have had a Buell Achilles, they're made for that off road on road stuff." a friend said after seeing my bike when I came in from camping off a logging road that joined the Duffy Lake Road. "I know, but I like the Roadster look. This is the bike they used in WWII and those Harley drivers weren't riding on paved roads. Harley's a tough bike."
Pressure washed it cleaned up fine but the gravel kicked up and nicked the paint job on the tank. "We're going to have do some re painting and heavy buffing." Darren said.
What could I say? I didn't feel sorry for all the great rides and camping trips. But it was time for Laura and Gilbert and me to stay on the road and do some long distance cruising and staying in cabins and motels. There are just so many "pet friendly' places now and if I'm going camping I like to take the truck and canoe. This last year we actually packed the tent but stayed in places with showers and beds instead. We've actually been thinking of getting a travel trailer to pull behind the truck. Next year's plan. I remember when Dad and Mom stopped packing poles and pegs and instead brought the whole motor home.
So I got the bigger bike. In the end it was a whole lot less than I ever could have hoped for. Best deal ever. And I still had warranty though I extended that at the deal. It was a whole other thing driving it off the lot. I was so excited I kept hearing John Mayer in my head singing "I want to run through the halls of my high school." Driving it off the lot I didn't grind gears, crash or fall over and was really happy when I survived the traffic. It's a big machine, twice the weight of my Roadster.
And yes everyone oohed and awed. When I picked up Gilbert back at the office where Joanne was walking him with Chris and her dog he just seemed to assume the bike was all about him because placed up on the back rack he had a truly commanding view. I got back to the apartment and Laura had just got in from her dance lesson with Carlos. "He's teaching the girl I did belly dancing with too" she told me.
So there was Laura in her little black dress number and high heeled dance shoes draped in the big back seat of the Harley Electraglyde like it was a throne while I was playing rocking music stations on the honking Harley stereo. The two of us just sat out there on the bike beside the curb not going anywhere but bothering the neighbours like a couple of teen agers.
I had to get out to a meeting. Brock had bought a new Mercedes and Malcolm had his new Jaguar and Ray wanted to see my new bike. So there we all were standing around ogling each other wheels in the parking lot of the Vancouver detox. Brock summed it up. "I like having things I can appreciate and care for in recovery. I used to just smash up vehicles when I was drinking."
I remembered the dead Norton by the side of the road and me all broken up beside it a couple of decades back. Riding motorcycles isn't something to mix with drinking unless you really want a crash chaser.
I love riding motorcycles today and can't wait to head out to Harrison's with Laura and Gilbert. It will be Gilbert's first ride at speed. He's only done spurts at 80 k and no long rides so we're breaking him into the road trip and the new bike. Riding around the city sitting high on the back harnessed into his Tbag I knew he approved of this move. Now it's just a matter of taking the bike out where it can breathe. It's made for the open road. We're going to get geared up now and head out on Harley Highway.
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Friday, July 23, 2010
Friday Morning Workday
TGIF - Thank God It's Friday. I love Friday. I look forward to the day of work knowing the week of work is behind me. I've that sense of accomplishment that comes from just showing up and doing one's part. Friday has a limit too. It's over early. Friday night is a time of rest. I'm usually saturated by then. The whole week of stresses have accumulated so that Friday night I can usually look forward to kicking back. Ordering in Pizza. Watching a movie. A lot of times I head out to the country. Sometimes I volunteer for service but a lot of the time Friday night is just a time of rest. I don't usually book new people either. If something strange or crisis driven comes in the door there's often no one around in other places to get information from. Lots of people in institutions either are gone on Friday or just not there Friday afternoon. So Friday doesn't have the same potential for surprises. I'm winding down. The good and hard work that got set in place on Monday or Tuesday often pays off on Friday. I have reports coming in or going out on Friday. It's all about completion.
Of course there's the weekend. I'm looking forward to the weekend. I love to get away to the country or get out on the ocean. I started hiking boating and camping as a boy with my family. So despite the years of tuxedos, chandeliers and gallas I still prefer being out in the Canadian wilderness. I love the pine and spruce. My friend on a tropical island feels the same about the beach beneath the palms But that's the weekend. I wish it was always for that but more often than not it's the time to get supplies, shopping, getting repairs done, doing laundry, fixing things. That's not as enjoyable but it's nonetheless fulfilling. Usually Saturday night has something different even if we're in town. We get out to dinner, sometimes take in a movie. The dog has made us choose outdoor cafes and restaurants where he can lie down curbside. In the winter I've got season tickets to the ballet or theatre and that comes up on Friday or Saturday night. A Canucks game is a big thing too. But that's winter. Summer time is Stanley Park and Spanish Banks Beach. Right now they've started the fireworks events in English Bay. It's kind of a tradition. So many times I've been out on my boats. More often now we're just sitting along the shore with the thousands of others who've thronged down to the West End to listen to the music and watch the skies light up with wonder. No doubt about it Vancouver is a beautiful city.
Friday I remember to be thankful. I'm thankful I've worked all week. I'm thankful for the help I've received. I'm thankful for my friends and family. I'm looking forward to seeing my Dad in a couple of weeks. Hopefully my brother, sister in law and nephews will be in town too. Can't wait to visit with Art, Carole, Bobbie, Cheryl and here I go forgetting everyone's names again. I have dozens of friends I get together at a recurring medical conference with and the biggest difficulty is remembering the guys names. Hugh will be there. I hope the American General is still alive. He was great guy to hang out with last year with. Easy to take direction from. Maybe all his years of leadership made it easier for me to follow his advice. I'll probably have a discussion with Art about that. The Brits and Aussies will be there too. Buffalo is where the meeting is. Wish my Aunt was alive so I could visit her in nearby Toronto. Toronto came alive when she was there and just hasn't been the same city since she's died. Don't know Buffalo. Niagara Falls is nearby and probably as romantic as ever. Certainly was when I was young but most spectacular when my parents took me there and I was fascinated by the men who'd gone over in wooden barrels.
Friday I can look forward to church on Sunday if I'm going to be in town on the weekend. Don't know about this weekend. That was the plan. I was actually going to work on the boat, do some cleaning and minor repairs. The weather report says it's going to be hot and sunny all day. A motorcycle ride up the valley to Harrison's sure seems like a better way to spend the time. Love feeling that wind and the freedom of the open road. If I get enough contrast happening work on Monday is more appealing. A lot of the time I look forward to work on Monday if only for the physical rest. I blame the desk job for my belly preferring that explanation to the frequent fridge attack from Hagen Daz Ice Cream. So on weekends I do my best to get as much exercise in and usually succeed in feeling physically whipped on Monday recuperating from the hiking, motorcycling or yachting. Last week it was reeling away on the fishing rod, hauling in fish and next day hardly able to lift my arm about the shoulder height. Physical activity balances all the mental exercise and together make for a really positive sense of participation.
Friday everyone else is pretty happy. In the building where I work there's a lot of joie d'vive on Friday. Monday's are glum but Fridays are happy times. People are smiling a whole lot more and sharing their plans for the weekend. It's fun to go to work and be a part of the hustle and bustle. I love the buzz in the city on the way to work. All that combined purpose and energy is almost palpable. I could do without the road rage at the end of the day but people are just exhausted like I usually am. My motorcycle wakes me up and forces me to pay attention. I like the ride into and home from work. My favorite way of traveling to and from work was on the train in London. Friends tell me that they get that feeling on the new Canada Line. Part of it is the comfort of sitting back and letting some one else get you there but a lot of it is the beautiful views out the window. I loved watching the countryside and skyline go by when I lived in London. Returning on the Canada line from the airport I loved the vistas of Vancouver and the mountain. It's so refreshing to get out and participate.
Friday is a good day. I'm thankful it's Friday. Another work day. The work week drawing to a close. The weekend is the icing on the cake. Or since I've eaten the main course I can look forward to enjoying the weekend dessert. There's always that pleasure with accomplishment. Work is hard. Discipline is tough. Routine is often ruthless. But Genius is 99% perspiration and 1% inspiration, as Einstein said. There's so much celebration in working and being a part of the industry of city and community. I'm so thankful for this. Friday is a blessing. Some weeks it seems like it will never come. When it does it's always a friend. The weekend is heralded. I'm soon to be released from the burdens and cares of responsibility. The freedom and wilderness and leisure activities are just hours away.
Thank God It's Friday!
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Of course there's the weekend. I'm looking forward to the weekend. I love to get away to the country or get out on the ocean. I started hiking boating and camping as a boy with my family. So despite the years of tuxedos, chandeliers and gallas I still prefer being out in the Canadian wilderness. I love the pine and spruce. My friend on a tropical island feels the same about the beach beneath the palms But that's the weekend. I wish it was always for that but more often than not it's the time to get supplies, shopping, getting repairs done, doing laundry, fixing things. That's not as enjoyable but it's nonetheless fulfilling. Usually Saturday night has something different even if we're in town. We get out to dinner, sometimes take in a movie. The dog has made us choose outdoor cafes and restaurants where he can lie down curbside. In the winter I've got season tickets to the ballet or theatre and that comes up on Friday or Saturday night. A Canucks game is a big thing too. But that's winter. Summer time is Stanley Park and Spanish Banks Beach. Right now they've started the fireworks events in English Bay. It's kind of a tradition. So many times I've been out on my boats. More often now we're just sitting along the shore with the thousands of others who've thronged down to the West End to listen to the music and watch the skies light up with wonder. No doubt about it Vancouver is a beautiful city.
Friday I remember to be thankful. I'm thankful I've worked all week. I'm thankful for the help I've received. I'm thankful for my friends and family. I'm looking forward to seeing my Dad in a couple of weeks. Hopefully my brother, sister in law and nephews will be in town too. Can't wait to visit with Art, Carole, Bobbie, Cheryl and here I go forgetting everyone's names again. I have dozens of friends I get together at a recurring medical conference with and the biggest difficulty is remembering the guys names. Hugh will be there. I hope the American General is still alive. He was great guy to hang out with last year with. Easy to take direction from. Maybe all his years of leadership made it easier for me to follow his advice. I'll probably have a discussion with Art about that. The Brits and Aussies will be there too. Buffalo is where the meeting is. Wish my Aunt was alive so I could visit her in nearby Toronto. Toronto came alive when she was there and just hasn't been the same city since she's died. Don't know Buffalo. Niagara Falls is nearby and probably as romantic as ever. Certainly was when I was young but most spectacular when my parents took me there and I was fascinated by the men who'd gone over in wooden barrels.
Friday I can look forward to church on Sunday if I'm going to be in town on the weekend. Don't know about this weekend. That was the plan. I was actually going to work on the boat, do some cleaning and minor repairs. The weather report says it's going to be hot and sunny all day. A motorcycle ride up the valley to Harrison's sure seems like a better way to spend the time. Love feeling that wind and the freedom of the open road. If I get enough contrast happening work on Monday is more appealing. A lot of the time I look forward to work on Monday if only for the physical rest. I blame the desk job for my belly preferring that explanation to the frequent fridge attack from Hagen Daz Ice Cream. So on weekends I do my best to get as much exercise in and usually succeed in feeling physically whipped on Monday recuperating from the hiking, motorcycling or yachting. Last week it was reeling away on the fishing rod, hauling in fish and next day hardly able to lift my arm about the shoulder height. Physical activity balances all the mental exercise and together make for a really positive sense of participation.
Friday everyone else is pretty happy. In the building where I work there's a lot of joie d'vive on Friday. Monday's are glum but Fridays are happy times. People are smiling a whole lot more and sharing their plans for the weekend. It's fun to go to work and be a part of the hustle and bustle. I love the buzz in the city on the way to work. All that combined purpose and energy is almost palpable. I could do without the road rage at the end of the day but people are just exhausted like I usually am. My motorcycle wakes me up and forces me to pay attention. I like the ride into and home from work. My favorite way of traveling to and from work was on the train in London. Friends tell me that they get that feeling on the new Canada Line. Part of it is the comfort of sitting back and letting some one else get you there but a lot of it is the beautiful views out the window. I loved watching the countryside and skyline go by when I lived in London. Returning on the Canada line from the airport I loved the vistas of Vancouver and the mountain. It's so refreshing to get out and participate.
Friday is a good day. I'm thankful it's Friday. Another work day. The work week drawing to a close. The weekend is the icing on the cake. Or since I've eaten the main course I can look forward to enjoying the weekend dessert. There's always that pleasure with accomplishment. Work is hard. Discipline is tough. Routine is often ruthless. But Genius is 99% perspiration and 1% inspiration, as Einstein said. There's so much celebration in working and being a part of the industry of city and community. I'm so thankful for this. Friday is a blessing. Some weeks it seems like it will never come. When it does it's always a friend. The weekend is heralded. I'm soon to be released from the burdens and cares of responsibility. The freedom and wilderness and leisure activities are just hours away.
Thank God It's Friday!
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Cadillac Problems
When he first told me, "If it's a problem that money can solve, it's not really that big a problem at all", I didn't really hear him. That's the way it is with money problems. They confuse your thinking. I learned later that he was saying that money couldn't get a eye back or replace a lost leg or return a child or parent killed too soon.
It was early recovery and I was thinking mostly about my smile. I'd lost a tooth. It just came out at the most god awful time. I had no money. I was in the middle of divorce with a fellow addict who was using all her money and power to ensure that I had none. Welfare refused me help and I was down to living off the charity of a friend in church. Naturally I didn't think things were fair. I'd walked away from work because it was the only way I knew of ensuring that people wouldn't be hurt. My colleague was stoned, dangerous and dishonest. I'd lost track of the idealism that had caused me to give up my life for the work. My friend I'd trusted with my vehicle had got into coke and stolen my wheels.
They say that addiction is a country and western song. First you lose the girl, then you lose the job, after that the truck goes. In my case I kept the dog. I'm thankful for that because he gave me a reason for living when I thought I had none.
I'd lost my tooth though. That made my winning smile look crooked.
I was pretty miserable, too. I only felt safe in church because that's where I'd gone as a boy with my mother and father. I knew no one would hurt me there. I didn't know if they could help me, but I knew they wouldn't hurt me. Mostly I cried. Later I'd go to my first 12 step meeting. Eventually a whole lot of people from the church, the community, the 12 step meetings, family and colleagues helped me find my way back to where I'd gone off track. I felt I was given a new lease on life.
I even got a new tooth. When Doug Lovely, the dentist, restored the tooth I really did have something to smile about. I'd worn such a frown for so long that it was like the tooth came along when I had need for a smile again.
Recovery is said to be like a country song played backwards.
I got a new truck, a sober girlfriend. I'd have a dog and despite all efforts to the contrary I returned to working again. It was the same but a whole lot different.. I was helping others with addiction I felt good about what I was doing. I had a whole lot of sober and spiritual friends. There wasn't the same kind of dishonesty anymore. Nobody needed a drink or a drug to be with another. No one needed to be hammered to have a good time. There was a whole new level of peace. The good times really were good times.
I still had problems though. These weren't like how to pay the rent or back taxes anymore. Now I had to worry about how much money to put aside to pay the taxes and how much money to save in the bank. I found myself worrying about which vehicle to buy and where to go on vacation. I told my friend about my concerns.
He just shook his head and said, "Everyone should have your kind of cadillac problems!" That's when I learned about cadillac problems. They're the kind of things normal people and people in recovery worry about long after they've cleaned up the 'wreckage of the past.'
Amazing what comes with sobriety and the 12 steps, God, church, family, friends and Cadillac problems. Everyone should be so lucky!
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It was early recovery and I was thinking mostly about my smile. I'd lost a tooth. It just came out at the most god awful time. I had no money. I was in the middle of divorce with a fellow addict who was using all her money and power to ensure that I had none. Welfare refused me help and I was down to living off the charity of a friend in church. Naturally I didn't think things were fair. I'd walked away from work because it was the only way I knew of ensuring that people wouldn't be hurt. My colleague was stoned, dangerous and dishonest. I'd lost track of the idealism that had caused me to give up my life for the work. My friend I'd trusted with my vehicle had got into coke and stolen my wheels.
They say that addiction is a country and western song. First you lose the girl, then you lose the job, after that the truck goes. In my case I kept the dog. I'm thankful for that because he gave me a reason for living when I thought I had none.
I'd lost my tooth though. That made my winning smile look crooked.
I was pretty miserable, too. I only felt safe in church because that's where I'd gone as a boy with my mother and father. I knew no one would hurt me there. I didn't know if they could help me, but I knew they wouldn't hurt me. Mostly I cried. Later I'd go to my first 12 step meeting. Eventually a whole lot of people from the church, the community, the 12 step meetings, family and colleagues helped me find my way back to where I'd gone off track. I felt I was given a new lease on life.
I even got a new tooth. When Doug Lovely, the dentist, restored the tooth I really did have something to smile about. I'd worn such a frown for so long that it was like the tooth came along when I had need for a smile again.
Recovery is said to be like a country song played backwards.
I got a new truck, a sober girlfriend. I'd have a dog and despite all efforts to the contrary I returned to working again. It was the same but a whole lot different.. I was helping others with addiction I felt good about what I was doing. I had a whole lot of sober and spiritual friends. There wasn't the same kind of dishonesty anymore. Nobody needed a drink or a drug to be with another. No one needed to be hammered to have a good time. There was a whole new level of peace. The good times really were good times.
I still had problems though. These weren't like how to pay the rent or back taxes anymore. Now I had to worry about how much money to put aside to pay the taxes and how much money to save in the bank. I found myself worrying about which vehicle to buy and where to go on vacation. I told my friend about my concerns.
He just shook his head and said, "Everyone should have your kind of cadillac problems!" That's when I learned about cadillac problems. They're the kind of things normal people and people in recovery worry about long after they've cleaned up the 'wreckage of the past.'
Amazing what comes with sobriety and the 12 steps, God, church, family, friends and Cadillac problems. Everyone should be so lucky!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Thursday, July 22, 2010
www.williamhaymd.com
My assistant Aim completed the new website at the office. http://www.williamhaymd.com It makes me feel old looking over the curriculum vitae and seeing how much time I've spent studying and working. On the other hand it looks impressive so I feel I've earned the grey hairs. Then there's the next thought of how much time I wasted and how much more I could have done were it not for all the obstacles, personal and political. At times though looking back sometimes give me a fine feeling of accomplishment while others seem more like "bell bottom' trousers" and "brylcream hair." I wonder what it will look like 10 or 20 years from now. Mostly I like remembering the people. The relationships grow more important with time even as so much else is forgotten.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Thursday Morning Workday
I like Thursdays. I'm over the hump of Wednesday and on the downhill of the work week. Thursday night I have a men's meeting that's always a source of humor and inspiration. I look forward to seeing the guys and hearing how they've fared in the week. I like the camaraderie. We've gone through recovery together. It's a kind of flip side of the bond that military guys talk about. Some of the guys are military and describe the similarities. Here the war was with ourselves or the negative aspects of ourselves. Together we changed ourselves and our lives from the unhealthy to the healthy. We embraced the spiritual and found community. Each Thursday night we check in with each other and see how it's going. We're survivors who frankly are thriving in the new roles but still remember. Seeing the faces of friends keeps the faith alive.
I'm older too. And talking on Facebook with friends I like keeping in touch and hearing how they're managing. When I was a teen ager I wanted to know what choices my friends were making. Who was going to university. What job were they getting. It's that way again. It's always been like that in some ways but now the information seems so much more important.
Talking with a Transylvanian friend about motorcycles and her saying she sometimes feels possessed by her things. She's bought a new house and I'm thinking of an upgrade in vehicles. Perhaps she needs another hidey hole while I need another escape vehicle. But I know what she means. Things take care. Walden Pond by Thoreau always comes to mind. The simplicity. Maybe if I didn't have 'stuff' I could just travel some more. Become the wanderer again.
Bicycling across Europe began to be it's own 'work' after 3 months. I'm liking where I am now. Part of me wants to set out sailing again but I'm just as happy to putter at bringing the boat back to expedition standards. Pirates scare me. I don't want to kill someone. I suppose I don't want to get killed either but I seem more concerned about having to kill someone dropping from the skies to board my boat or coming up behind me in a fast tobacco boat. I read of these things now in Blue Water Cruising Association's Currents and Seven Seas magazines. Confrontations off Yemen. There was a kidnapping and killing off Nicaragua when I was cruising down that way still in Mexican waters. It bothered me then but now I think life is even more precious. Perhaps because there's less.
Then too Canadians are hated as readily as Americans. I didn't like being seen as 'easy money'. I didn't like the sullen anger I encountered in the poor any more than the drunken party stupidity I saw in the partying NorthAmerican and European set. There's something so sad about seeing a rich jet setter young American surfer kid drunk and stoned throwing around money in Cabot San Lucas while a Mexican family living in poverty works all day to meet subsistence needs. I see the same rich and poor in Vancouver but its not quite so in one's face. I was afraid in Morocco. I liked Hong Kong and Japan for the feeling of safety as a tourist. But overall I'm not as enamored by 'passing through' experience or 'fellow travelers' as I once was. It will come again. It's always just a matter of time. I'll take a vacation and be satisfied for a time with just that. Travels with Charley, may well wait till i'm retired. My friends are fishing and shrimping and I most envy them their time on the water, not having schedules. There are so many books I want to read and courses I want to take. Adventures internal call as much as adventures external.
Right now Gilbert is a going concern. He's so busy mouthing everything, chewing everything. It's 5 months and it's let up a whole lot but I'm told it's likely to go on till the end of this year at least. I like the way he wakes me up now. Jumps on the bed and comes over and licks my ear. He's telling me he wants to be let out to pee and it's a leisurely show. We can cuddle. He can wait for me to chuck him under the chin and scratch his back. And eventually I can let him out. There's no fear of him letting go on the bed. That's no way to wake up yet twice these last months that was the start of the day. Before that he'd scratch at the door and I'd rocket to let him out hoping I was in time. And before that he'd just happing piss and poop any old place so my bare feet could find it. I loved the puppy napkins that served as the earliest container and re director.
Thursday work day. It's always full. Lunches are forever lost to emergencies. An American College of Specialists did a study that showed that we were required to do 90 minutes of activities for every 15 minutes of an office visit even before the patient's complaint was clear. Further the Canadian Medical Protective Association has recommended because of the increasing limitations of judges and the changing laws of litigation that doctors record equal time for the time they're seeing patients. 5 minutes for the patient and 5 minutes for the potential judge. Administrative bodies have their own demands which are sometimes right out of left field or some bizarro comic strip that make sense in some board room but have absolutely no consideration of what goes on in the real world. Add to that the ever present ivory tower. The result is that I and every doctor I know, the finest and brightest, are complete and utter failures before they start their day. The patients aren't pleased because the politicians have taken all their money in taxes and promised them universal health care only to tell them that they'll have to pay for everything they want.
Daily now the patient is coming having read the internet story on their illness and expecting to get what the academic or vested interest says their condition deserves only to encounter a doctor who has been told by their College or by the Ministry that they have to 'ration' health care. "I know it says in that New England Journal of Medicine article that you should have an MRI and we should rule out lime disease and that it's possible that that the mosquito bite was the vector for your feeling tired today, however I don't think the "odds" justify a million dollar workup. Your blood test shows you're 'anemic' because you've not been careful with your vegetarian diet and that's sufficient reason for your being tired."
It's always a war. Those that are a million miles from the trenches write how they think saying no to somebody should go. Reading their papers and brochures and protocols you know only too well that you were where they were a decade or two ago some thousand patients before you really learned 'desperate' patients don't take kindly to 'no' and there's no guaranteed way to safely say 'no'. And the fact is that most people 'avoid' that equation. Passive aggressiveness is the cornerstone of these 'professionals'. Words like 'addiction', "suicidal", "borderline", "litigionous", "entitled", "angry", "demanding" get their files put at the bottom of any pile of politically correct doctors concerned most with themselves and not "universal" health care. Since you get paid as much to see a clean and rich one, in fact you get paid a whole lot more, there is no incentive to see the dirty and ugly ones. It's like dating and the cherry picking is ubiquitous now with no one wanting to take the risks that go with seeing the sickest people. Really sick people aren't at their best when they see the doctor and tend to be paranoid, touching, demanding and sometimes quite frankly dangerous. If you have to say 'no' be prepared to duck. So mostly these patient's are 'lied' to. It's a 'white lie' in that the doctor is afraid of their reaction so does anything but say 'no'. I say "no". It's my job. The buck stops at my door. It used to be I got a lot of support but these days there is none. One of my friends in the police told me he felt the same way. A judge in Canada said the same. The "cancer of nice" and the 'sugar coated" "maybe no", or 'a little no'.
The fact remains "no" offends people. Ironically people want all of me and threaten me with death or whatever to get all of me. The various agencies, not to mention the tax man have gnawed me to the bone even before I get out of bed. Apparently the HST task is sucking the blood out of everyone working now too. Soon there will be no incentive to go to work. "Beatniks are out to make it rich, must be the season of the rich." Mostly I hear of the underground economy. It's well over 50% in BC. Even 'awards' are made out in 'tax free' dollars. The dollar is nothing if it's not 'tax free'.
Easy to think like this. Some days I'd succomb. It's what I hear day in and day out in the office. All the dross of civilisation. All the negativity. Every day another wounded walking comes in the door and tells a tale of how the system or some supervisor or superior or spouse betrayed them and ruined them. It's usually the case that the person is telling the truth too. Broken promises galore. I listen and eventually I create a tiny 'resistance' of my own, suggest a different viewpoint, put forward that the police, or the boss, or the spouse, or the government or the aliens, or the Ku Klux Klan or the Black Panthers, Jews or Nazis, Moslems or Buddhist might have a different point of view. It's then that the mild manner woman or man who has been solely your friend and really understanding and frankly 'nice' turns on you and the dogs of hell are unleashed, they're screaming that you don't understand, you're just like them, you're a male chauvinistic pig, police love, establishment, priviledged, antisemetic, Indian lover, moslem hater, whitey......I can't remember the list of a hundred or more labels I've been called when I asked "Is it possible and suggested that the person might look at the 'event' only 1 or 2 degrees off from their own perspective'. This is a classic test of a patients capacity for "psychotherapy'. If the patient fails it they simply 'lack' the capacity of 'psychological mindedness' so therefore are not candidates for depth psychotherapy , the kind that psychiatrists are trained to do. If the person 'considers' that their may be an alternative viewpoint to theres they are sufficiently 'open minded' to engage into an investigation into how they might change to maximize their interpersonal experiences. Most people are 'paranoid' or 'arrogant' and simply are not amenable to true psychotherapy. They merely want 'allies' and 'advocates'. They really need a lawyer but mostly just want money and power and possibly a gun. They wear suits and because of the rapid changes in society can frequently get to high positions even in government bodies. They seek control because sadly they're not terribly in controll themselves. They are often "parental' in their interactions yet think they're being adult but lack that fine balance of creative child that comes with the expansion of personality and character.
I do a lot of consults. In the days of long term psychotherapy the analyst , getting paid $100 an hour for 5 days a week and expecting to see the patient for 3 years said "no' at about one year. That's when the analyst made an 'interpretation' that suggested that the patient needed to change. The Therapeutic alliance was established over that first year and supposedly would protect pateint and analyst from the frustration of the having to change. Frequently the patient said 'screw you' and the analyst had a year of income but failed the case. So Brief and Focal Psychoanalytic studies were done and found that therapy of a sort could be done in 10 to 20 sessions and this 'confrontation' should occur in the first 1 to 3 sessions with a view to identifying who would warrant this kind of 'depth' therapy. Depth psychotherapy is 'anxiety' provoking and most people want 'counselling' which is by nature non conforntational and 'agreeable' and 'educational' and doesn't change 'core belief's' and works best if 'advocacy' is warranted. It's also been likened to psychic massage. My patient wants to kill someone and this is not uncommon in my practice, they want to kill themselves or someone else and all that 'nice' therapy hasn't worked.
Now the patient doesn't want to take medications because they don't want to weaken their paranoid resolve to kill someone. So they want 'psychotherapy' but really they want advocacy.
I've noticed that colleagues rarely do this anymore. It's easier to prescribe an antipsychotic to everyone and assume they're paranoid. It works. It's safer. Mostly my patients have seen so many counsellors and psychologists and psychiatrists and we try to do what hasn't been tried. So I frequently suggest the 'cops" or "judge' or 'wife' or 'ex husband' might have been right. That's what makes my practice so dangerous. Ironically it's also what gets me the great successes. Whether they're 'burnt out' with all the 'love' and 'niceness' or they're just tired of hating, more often than not a person at that moment show a 'crack' in the character armour and we can beginn really life changing therapy. I'm still exhilerated to hear of the patients getting back to work, getting married, having kids, writing poetry, taking a trip home or whatever it is that was utterly impossible before.
Their eyes clear. The light that had gone out comes back on. They've done the work of psychotherapy and made real progress. They've given up addiction and let go of the thanatos. They've moved out of the dark side to the light. They're building again and no longer tearing down.
Thursdays I can see the light of the weekend where rest is waiting and the work of psychiatry seems worth it. I'm glad to see the patients and look forward myself to getting together with the guys. Often I get through to my dad and talking to him in his 90's makes going on seem even more worth it. I like those who've gone before me. I've got a few older psychiatrist colleagues, really giants of the mind and soul. Often I call them on Thursdays or email them and it's possible to get through the week. There's hope on Thursday.
Time to get Gilbert ready to ride on the back of the motorcycle.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
I'm older too. And talking on Facebook with friends I like keeping in touch and hearing how they're managing. When I was a teen ager I wanted to know what choices my friends were making. Who was going to university. What job were they getting. It's that way again. It's always been like that in some ways but now the information seems so much more important.
Talking with a Transylvanian friend about motorcycles and her saying she sometimes feels possessed by her things. She's bought a new house and I'm thinking of an upgrade in vehicles. Perhaps she needs another hidey hole while I need another escape vehicle. But I know what she means. Things take care. Walden Pond by Thoreau always comes to mind. The simplicity. Maybe if I didn't have 'stuff' I could just travel some more. Become the wanderer again.
Bicycling across Europe began to be it's own 'work' after 3 months. I'm liking where I am now. Part of me wants to set out sailing again but I'm just as happy to putter at bringing the boat back to expedition standards. Pirates scare me. I don't want to kill someone. I suppose I don't want to get killed either but I seem more concerned about having to kill someone dropping from the skies to board my boat or coming up behind me in a fast tobacco boat. I read of these things now in Blue Water Cruising Association's Currents and Seven Seas magazines. Confrontations off Yemen. There was a kidnapping and killing off Nicaragua when I was cruising down that way still in Mexican waters. It bothered me then but now I think life is even more precious. Perhaps because there's less.
Then too Canadians are hated as readily as Americans. I didn't like being seen as 'easy money'. I didn't like the sullen anger I encountered in the poor any more than the drunken party stupidity I saw in the partying NorthAmerican and European set. There's something so sad about seeing a rich jet setter young American surfer kid drunk and stoned throwing around money in Cabot San Lucas while a Mexican family living in poverty works all day to meet subsistence needs. I see the same rich and poor in Vancouver but its not quite so in one's face. I was afraid in Morocco. I liked Hong Kong and Japan for the feeling of safety as a tourist. But overall I'm not as enamored by 'passing through' experience or 'fellow travelers' as I once was. It will come again. It's always just a matter of time. I'll take a vacation and be satisfied for a time with just that. Travels with Charley, may well wait till i'm retired. My friends are fishing and shrimping and I most envy them their time on the water, not having schedules. There are so many books I want to read and courses I want to take. Adventures internal call as much as adventures external.
Right now Gilbert is a going concern. He's so busy mouthing everything, chewing everything. It's 5 months and it's let up a whole lot but I'm told it's likely to go on till the end of this year at least. I like the way he wakes me up now. Jumps on the bed and comes over and licks my ear. He's telling me he wants to be let out to pee and it's a leisurely show. We can cuddle. He can wait for me to chuck him under the chin and scratch his back. And eventually I can let him out. There's no fear of him letting go on the bed. That's no way to wake up yet twice these last months that was the start of the day. Before that he'd scratch at the door and I'd rocket to let him out hoping I was in time. And before that he'd just happing piss and poop any old place so my bare feet could find it. I loved the puppy napkins that served as the earliest container and re director.
Thursday work day. It's always full. Lunches are forever lost to emergencies. An American College of Specialists did a study that showed that we were required to do 90 minutes of activities for every 15 minutes of an office visit even before the patient's complaint was clear. Further the Canadian Medical Protective Association has recommended because of the increasing limitations of judges and the changing laws of litigation that doctors record equal time for the time they're seeing patients. 5 minutes for the patient and 5 minutes for the potential judge. Administrative bodies have their own demands which are sometimes right out of left field or some bizarro comic strip that make sense in some board room but have absolutely no consideration of what goes on in the real world. Add to that the ever present ivory tower. The result is that I and every doctor I know, the finest and brightest, are complete and utter failures before they start their day. The patients aren't pleased because the politicians have taken all their money in taxes and promised them universal health care only to tell them that they'll have to pay for everything they want.
Daily now the patient is coming having read the internet story on their illness and expecting to get what the academic or vested interest says their condition deserves only to encounter a doctor who has been told by their College or by the Ministry that they have to 'ration' health care. "I know it says in that New England Journal of Medicine article that you should have an MRI and we should rule out lime disease and that it's possible that that the mosquito bite was the vector for your feeling tired today, however I don't think the "odds" justify a million dollar workup. Your blood test shows you're 'anemic' because you've not been careful with your vegetarian diet and that's sufficient reason for your being tired."
It's always a war. Those that are a million miles from the trenches write how they think saying no to somebody should go. Reading their papers and brochures and protocols you know only too well that you were where they were a decade or two ago some thousand patients before you really learned 'desperate' patients don't take kindly to 'no' and there's no guaranteed way to safely say 'no'. And the fact is that most people 'avoid' that equation. Passive aggressiveness is the cornerstone of these 'professionals'. Words like 'addiction', "suicidal", "borderline", "litigionous", "entitled", "angry", "demanding" get their files put at the bottom of any pile of politically correct doctors concerned most with themselves and not "universal" health care. Since you get paid as much to see a clean and rich one, in fact you get paid a whole lot more, there is no incentive to see the dirty and ugly ones. It's like dating and the cherry picking is ubiquitous now with no one wanting to take the risks that go with seeing the sickest people. Really sick people aren't at their best when they see the doctor and tend to be paranoid, touching, demanding and sometimes quite frankly dangerous. If you have to say 'no' be prepared to duck. So mostly these patient's are 'lied' to. It's a 'white lie' in that the doctor is afraid of their reaction so does anything but say 'no'. I say "no". It's my job. The buck stops at my door. It used to be I got a lot of support but these days there is none. One of my friends in the police told me he felt the same way. A judge in Canada said the same. The "cancer of nice" and the 'sugar coated" "maybe no", or 'a little no'.
The fact remains "no" offends people. Ironically people want all of me and threaten me with death or whatever to get all of me. The various agencies, not to mention the tax man have gnawed me to the bone even before I get out of bed. Apparently the HST task is sucking the blood out of everyone working now too. Soon there will be no incentive to go to work. "Beatniks are out to make it rich, must be the season of the rich." Mostly I hear of the underground economy. It's well over 50% in BC. Even 'awards' are made out in 'tax free' dollars. The dollar is nothing if it's not 'tax free'.
Easy to think like this. Some days I'd succomb. It's what I hear day in and day out in the office. All the dross of civilisation. All the negativity. Every day another wounded walking comes in the door and tells a tale of how the system or some supervisor or superior or spouse betrayed them and ruined them. It's usually the case that the person is telling the truth too. Broken promises galore. I listen and eventually I create a tiny 'resistance' of my own, suggest a different viewpoint, put forward that the police, or the boss, or the spouse, or the government or the aliens, or the Ku Klux Klan or the Black Panthers, Jews or Nazis, Moslems or Buddhist might have a different point of view. It's then that the mild manner woman or man who has been solely your friend and really understanding and frankly 'nice' turns on you and the dogs of hell are unleashed, they're screaming that you don't understand, you're just like them, you're a male chauvinistic pig, police love, establishment, priviledged, antisemetic, Indian lover, moslem hater, whitey......I can't remember the list of a hundred or more labels I've been called when I asked "Is it possible and suggested that the person might look at the 'event' only 1 or 2 degrees off from their own perspective'. This is a classic test of a patients capacity for "psychotherapy'. If the patient fails it they simply 'lack' the capacity of 'psychological mindedness' so therefore are not candidates for depth psychotherapy , the kind that psychiatrists are trained to do. If the person 'considers' that their may be an alternative viewpoint to theres they are sufficiently 'open minded' to engage into an investigation into how they might change to maximize their interpersonal experiences. Most people are 'paranoid' or 'arrogant' and simply are not amenable to true psychotherapy. They merely want 'allies' and 'advocates'. They really need a lawyer but mostly just want money and power and possibly a gun. They wear suits and because of the rapid changes in society can frequently get to high positions even in government bodies. They seek control because sadly they're not terribly in controll themselves. They are often "parental' in their interactions yet think they're being adult but lack that fine balance of creative child that comes with the expansion of personality and character.
I do a lot of consults. In the days of long term psychotherapy the analyst , getting paid $100 an hour for 5 days a week and expecting to see the patient for 3 years said "no' at about one year. That's when the analyst made an 'interpretation' that suggested that the patient needed to change. The Therapeutic alliance was established over that first year and supposedly would protect pateint and analyst from the frustration of the having to change. Frequently the patient said 'screw you' and the analyst had a year of income but failed the case. So Brief and Focal Psychoanalytic studies were done and found that therapy of a sort could be done in 10 to 20 sessions and this 'confrontation' should occur in the first 1 to 3 sessions with a view to identifying who would warrant this kind of 'depth' therapy. Depth psychotherapy is 'anxiety' provoking and most people want 'counselling' which is by nature non conforntational and 'agreeable' and 'educational' and doesn't change 'core belief's' and works best if 'advocacy' is warranted. It's also been likened to psychic massage. My patient wants to kill someone and this is not uncommon in my practice, they want to kill themselves or someone else and all that 'nice' therapy hasn't worked.
Now the patient doesn't want to take medications because they don't want to weaken their paranoid resolve to kill someone. So they want 'psychotherapy' but really they want advocacy.
I've noticed that colleagues rarely do this anymore. It's easier to prescribe an antipsychotic to everyone and assume they're paranoid. It works. It's safer. Mostly my patients have seen so many counsellors and psychologists and psychiatrists and we try to do what hasn't been tried. So I frequently suggest the 'cops" or "judge' or 'wife' or 'ex husband' might have been right. That's what makes my practice so dangerous. Ironically it's also what gets me the great successes. Whether they're 'burnt out' with all the 'love' and 'niceness' or they're just tired of hating, more often than not a person at that moment show a 'crack' in the character armour and we can beginn really life changing therapy. I'm still exhilerated to hear of the patients getting back to work, getting married, having kids, writing poetry, taking a trip home or whatever it is that was utterly impossible before.
Their eyes clear. The light that had gone out comes back on. They've done the work of psychotherapy and made real progress. They've given up addiction and let go of the thanatos. They've moved out of the dark side to the light. They're building again and no longer tearing down.
Thursdays I can see the light of the weekend where rest is waiting and the work of psychiatry seems worth it. I'm glad to see the patients and look forward myself to getting together with the guys. Often I get through to my dad and talking to him in his 90's makes going on seem even more worth it. I like those who've gone before me. I've got a few older psychiatrist colleagues, really giants of the mind and soul. Often I call them on Thursdays or email them and it's possible to get through the week. There's hope on Thursday.
Time to get Gilbert ready to ride on the back of the motorcycle.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
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