outpatient, i

It’s Not What I Wear by Flavia Testa

petite, dark-haired girl of 28,
mother of one, fourth year
nursing student, casually
tells me her rotation on the
psych ward was the least
rewarding
“nothing much to do” &
“so many of them are just
taking advantage of the
system. it’s terrible to
say, but it’s true.”

at home, I consider the
resources at hand
the antidepressant workbook
suggests positive thinking,
setting reasonable goals,
and rewarding yourself
for small accomplishments,
such as taking a shower.

the receptionist is
sympathetic but firm.
3 phone lines alight, she
smiles and nods indicating
she has seen me & will be
with me in a moment.
I wonder if I am too well
dressed for this. Should
I still be in my pyjamas and
exhibiting ticks round
the mouth and hands (early
on-set of tardive dyskinesia)
Will they stamp “faker” in
clear black letters on my file
and send me on my merry way?
(would this be a relief?)
a cued-up lull allows her
to compliment the brooch on
my jacket, mention dollar store
earrings and a side fact about
the royal couple.
perhaps I have fooled her.
perhaps I have not.