My psychiatrist thinks I am so "normal" that he didn't plan our next appointment until eight weeks from now. I said to him, "Well, I don't know if I can make it. I may be at the Riviera then." He took me seriously too. I would love to go down there and pretend I was filthy rich for about a month and do whatever the heck I wanted. Yes, I do have big and unrealistic wishes, but in my mind they are all going to come true one day. I would like to live as if anything at all is possible because I have already had such an interesting life.
He has decided that he does want to stay my psychiatrist despite my stubborn solo actions and he is very happy for me that my last one turned out so well for me. We did talk about how we are going to handle any future differences in opinion about the treatment, but I am going to have equal say in it. We do have enough respect and like for each other to want to keep having a successful doctor-patient relationship. We have already achieved a lot together and I have come a long way since I have been his patient. The fact that he became my psychiatrist is one of the better things that happened in my life.
I had the X-rays made of my sinus cavities in the morning and I rode my bike over to the hospital, taking quite a chance because it looked like it was going to rain something awful any minute. I was quite proud of myself, because I made it over the big bridge that crosses the railroad and the freeway in one go in first gear. That means that my knee is all better and that wearing sneakers all this time has been good for it. I made it to the hospital and home again without getting wet, but will probably not know the results of the X-rays until Tuesday. In the meantime, I keep taking paracetamol.