I lived through another Psych Eval

Mental Status Exam = Psych Eval.  Yup.  Exactly what I thought.  After listening to “Gravedigger” by the Dave Matthews Band about eight times in my truck, which I parked in one of the handicapped spots that doesn’t get ticketed if you’re there for more than two hours, I entered the building, put all of my stuff in the bin to be scanned through security, and walked through the metal detector.  Nothing went off.  Step one down.  I got my Visitor badge from the security guards, collected my stuff, and went to the elevators.  Fifth floor.  Suite 500.  As soon as I entered Suite 500, I heard a stern voice to my left tell me to sign in.  I hadn’t even had a chance to look around and was on high alert as it was.  That didn’t help.  The man kept barking orders at me as I signed in, as if I couldn’t read “Name” and “Date” and “Time” and write them down without assistance.  While I was trying to sign in, another person – a woman this time – asked in a flat tone if my name was so-and-so.  I answered in just as flat a tone my own name as I tried to concentrate on not getting drop-kicked by the rather militant security guard behind the desk where I was attempting to sign in.  The woman talked to the security guard for a bit and then, since there was still no sign of the person who was supposed to be having an evaluation right then, she said she would check with the psychologist to see if he would go ahead and do my Mental Status Exam early.  He said, “First come, first serve,” and I was quickly ushered into a room where I was told where to sit, facing a screen with Dr. Mozer, Ph.D. asking me as I sat down, “So how are you doing today?”  And the Psych Eval had begun…

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