The fucking sleeping psychiatrist

My therapist looks at me.

“Greg, you simply must see Dr. Ferber. He’s the best psychiatrist this side of the city. Yes, it’s a bit of a ride, but he’s well worth it.”

So I ride to Rockland County, New York, to see Doctor Ferber.

The dude is incredibly old.

Doctor Ferber leads me through many painful childhood memories, and seems to have some pretty good insights.

Then I hear a familiar sound. I look over at the doctor and he is sound asleep, and he is snoring loudly.

I look at my watch. 40 fucking minutes to go, at a hundred forty dollars an hour, uninsured!

” Doctor, I never told anyone this. I raped my mother when I was 12.”

Zzzzzzzzzzz.

” And Dr, I have 40 young boys buried in the crawl space of my house.”

Drool.

Then I began to wonder if the doctor secretly taped the sessions. So I shut the fuck up.

Sat for the rest of the hour, silent.  Left a check for $140 on his lap.

Came back the next week. Same shit! Absolutely identical. Pissed away another $140. But it wasn’t going to happen again.

Saw my therapist, and she was so excited. She had to know how it went with dr Ferber.

And oh how I told her.

Seeing as how I had to see a psychiatrist if I were to get medications, we finally found one that worked out okay. And this one stayed awake! That was so much more than I expected.

Dr Ferber if you are reading this, send me a refund for $280, I could use the dough.

Advertisements

One thought on “The fucking sleeping psychiatrist”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s