'Thanks for reaching out,' said Dr. Siemans.
Though well dressed, those white liquid paperish stains on his pants said something else.
And if you considered his name, it wasn't hard to draw the conclusion that he has cum stains on the front of his pants.
I just hoped he wouldn't reach out to me.
I was here to score drugs.
Through ingenuity, I had my Vyvanse released.
I wasn't going to let protocol get in the way of my meds.
I was writing a book, I told him.
He typed that note up.
And I'm dedicating the book to you.
He stopped typing.
'I'd prefer if you don't.'
Ungrateful swine.
A few consultations later, Dr. Siemans had written me off. The easiest way to dispose of me was to have me admitted.
Double swine.
What transpired was remarkable.
I couldn't deny I wasn't elevated.
As I said, I had enough stimulants to get ripped for the next month.
I felt a bit hurt. I had bought some new slacks and a nice wool top for his consultation.
I really wanted NSW Health to supply me Ritalin, Vyvanse and Duromine for ever. And for that to happen, I'd have to jump through a few hoops, right?
'I feel that your condition is complicated,' he said, over a phone call, late Friday afternoon.' He was ever so polite. So I'm not bipolar, I asked. He didn't answer and continued, 'take your phone, charger and toiletry and voluntarily admit yourself at the Emergency where you will evaluated.'
Sounded promising.
I might get on disability pension afterall.
I thought.
