I feel cured. No, really. I'm cured of the delusion that one could get some actual help in this commie state. But let's go back a few hours...
'Twas night before... uh, today when I woke up. It was actually 4.55AM but it was no brighter than midnight.
Grumpily Cheerfully I
dragged myself jumped out of my warm, cosy bed, put on pretty much every item of clothing I own, and went into the night. Er... morning. That looked a lot like night.
Let me tell you something: there is no amount of clothes that will keep you warm at 5.50AM in October.
While on the bus, I made some grand plans of taking some photographs of the city waking up to an autumn dawn. Those grand plans? Squashed. By a very serious concern for my fingers' well-being. Where well-being equals staying attached to my hands.
Anyhoo. There I was, at the psychiatric ward at 6.42AM. Before me, there were approximately 40 other people. No kidding.
So I asked:
Are they still taking patients?, and someone said,
They haven't even started yet.
So that was good. I hoped. Now, crazy people... they're maybe crazy, but they're organised.
You gotta ask who came last, they told me,
and then make sure you get in the line after them.
And it works! One old guy tried to get in front of me, and people almost kicked him out. True story.
I'm sorry I didn't take any pictures. I feared someone might kick my ass, so I decided against flashing crazy people. But I found these two pics just to give you some idea of what it looks like from the outside:
This is the waiting room.
This is the building from the outside. Fancy, no?
Where was I? Oh yes. So at 7AM we formed a line and they started taking our names. When it was my turn, I asked when I should come back, because, see, this was just admission - the doctor's office hours start at 8AM.
The nurse looked at the clock on the wall and said,
Around 9.30.
I glanced at my watch. Awesome. It was 7.45.
So I took off. Bought two pairs of pantyhose. Bought Fornetti for breakfast. Then hung at the library till 9.10. By the way, did you know that the University Library of Osijek has altogether FOUR computers at their members' disposal? Just thought I'd throw that out there.
I returned to the ~clinic~ at 9.15 finding roughly 20-25 people still there. I knew, of course, that the 9.30 estimate was extremely optimistic, but still. Ugh. Sitting and waiting it was. Well,
standing and waiting, actually. It's a good thing some took care of providing entertainment. For instance, one dude thought it was just the right time to decide on his new ringtone. In the waiting room. Amid 25 pretty annoyed, not to mention possibly crazy, people. Another, morbidly obese dude, apparently tried to cough his lung out, making sure we were closely introduced to the whole process by not covering his mouth. Fun times.
Finally, at 10.40 my name was called. I entered a room with bare walls, a desk, and a bed in it. The doctor, a blonde kid, possibly my age, hell, maybe even younger, was sitting at the desk. In front of her - a typewriter. Very mid 70's socialism. During the very productive 5-7min with the doctor, I ended up with an antidepressant prescription and a paper saying I was ~emotionally incontinent~. I don't even know, you guys. Does that mean that pills equal emotional diapers?
Take these, she said,
and I'll see you in a month.
I blinked once. Twice.
Can't I get some counseling?, I asked incredulously.
No one really does that here. There's just no time or staff, she explained.
Yeah, I kinda noticed that. Oh well.
At 10.50 I was on my merry way home. And here I am, ready to pop the magic pill and have my life sorted out. There's just no way for this plan to go wrong. Ask me how I am in a month.
I dare you.
