Aug. 28, 1996
I know, I know — some folks have been saying for years that I'm loonier than Saddam Hussein. Well, now they have official confirmation.
I'd gotten hit by a really severe series of headaches a couple of weeks back, and after two bottles of aspirin failed to do the job, I moseyed on in to the doctor's office.
He told me there was no physical cause for the headaches, and suggested I check in with a mentalhealth professional to see if maybe I could alleviate the stress which was causing them.
I hesitantly agreed to go, mentally picturing myself in a straightjacket before the session was done.
I just THOUGHT I'd been stressed out before.
"So," the doctor said, arching his eyebrows and cleaning out his nose with the eraser on his pencil, "what do YOU think is wrong with you?"
I decided on levity. "I hate my mother," I shot back with a grin.
The doctor didn't grin, scribbling away furiously. "That was a joke," I said. "I don't hate my mother."
Impulsive Falsification Disorder, the doctor scribbled.
"No, you don't understand, Doc, I was making a joke, like Kelsey Grammer on TV?"
"Ohhh, I see," the doc said, erasing Impulsive Falsification Disorder and replacing it with Television Comedian Fixation Disorder. "So, you're developing stress headaches because you're jealous of Kelsey Grammer, right?"
"You went to school how long?" I questioned. That bought me PseudoSatirical Questioning of Psychiatric Capabilities Dysfunction.
"Perhaps," the doc said, turning on his tape recorder, "you should first tell me how long you've been wanting to have sex with..."
"What I'm really here for, Doc, is to get some help in dealing with these stress headaches," I interrupted. "I'm having trouble sleeping, I'm having car trouble all the time, I've got bills coming out my ears, I'm short-tempered, I've lost weight, and I'm getting really concerned about it. I need a creative way to alleviate all this stress!"
"I see," the doc said, adding PostLetterman Disorder, Limited Efficiency Automobilic Dysfunction, Overdrawn Account Syndrome, Infentisimal Fuse Disorder, Stressor Appetite Supression Malady and Limited Imagination Disorder to the list of my mental illnesses.
Things slid kinda downhill from there.
As our conversation continued, I was also diagnosed with Reactionary Militaristic Disorder (I volunteered to join the Marines, and I actually enjoyed it); Anticultural Chihuahua Dysfunction (okay, so my dogs are not bilingual); Lecherous Kate Moss Fixation Syndrome (guilty); Bachelor House-Disorder Dysfunction (ditto); Drive-Through Fast-Food Preferential Eating Disorder (that's a given); Rapid-Expletionary Highway Disorder (I tend to have creative conversations with fellow travelers) and Overblown Ego Disorder (hey!).
"Mr. Mundy," the doc drawled afterwards, "after our little talk here, it's clear to me you have some serious mental health problems which require immediate treatment.
"Let's set up a series of regular appointments to see what we can't do about that little stress problem..."
Happily, two weeks later, I'm no longer stalked by stress: the headaches are gone, I've gained my weight back and I'm sleeping like a baby again.
After I trashed the doctor's office,
wrapped him in cellophane tape and hung him upside-down outside his window
for a couple of hours (that's Aggressive Receding Hairline Disorder,
I've been told), I feel muuuuuuuuch better now.