Hearing Aid-Story from a long time ago

Write, write, write, every author I have ever met gave me the same advice. I just cant seem to focus on a novel, I try. I have issues (see prior blog) So not only have I taken it upon myself to self medicate (see drink alcohol) but I figured months ago that it was time for me to see yet another doctor (see Psychiatrist) So I called an office that was suggested by my therapist, since to me the exercise given of taking deep breaths, focusing on the muscles from the tips of my toes to the top of my head was only condusive of me making mental grocery lists while I watched her with squited eyes stretching and talking in yoga fashion, like a lion waking from hibernation, it just didnt work for me, so I humored her anyways. The lovely receptionist Carla gave me the number to their favorite psych within my insurance plan, Dr R, I refuse to use his name in order to save others from embarrassment. Dr R gave me an appointment immediately, I later found out why he was so open. I walked into the office and filled out a small edition of a thesaurus with questions about me, my thoughts, and medical background. We wont get into that. The bubbly receptionist, probably on facebook, smiled to me, I was the only one it the office, no one went in and no one came out. She had me sign some papers about payments and confidentiality. I didnt really care about that, ask me and I will lay back on a park bench and tell you my life story beginning at age 13 when it all began. She was very sweet and smiled alot, she looked at me and cocked her head to the side, remember this is my first visit, the day I tell it all and then divulge more at each session. She said "I'm sorry, we tried to call you" my phone is on silent always, thanks to the no cell phone rule at my call center office, "We cancelled all of today's session, but just couldnt get through to you, his hearing aids are not working and well, you will just have to speak a little louder" I look around for a candid camera or Ashton Kutcher ready to jump out and tell me I've been punked, no Ashton, thank god for him, his body reminds me of a kindergarten playground where I can learn all kinds of handstands and backflips and much more about my flexibility than I would learn at the circus training for trapeze artists, anyways, I look at her and smile"I can reschedule" my boss would be pissed but I could. Please say yes, "No honey, you're already here you will be just fine, just speak a little lounder", I think a conversation with Helen Keller would have been more productive. I walk in and realize I have been set up with a walking corpse, he was probably a member of the medicare plan I work for, he was smiling, but more from squinting than a genuine smile, he stared and wrote, I did as much sign language as I could, at the end of the session, I had 4 children, was adopted and was possibly a cancer patient in remission. No problem, I walked out of the office with 4 different prescriptions, to this day only 2 I still use, needless to say, that is one dr visit I will never forget, I am due for a visit and for the most part just nod when I need to and take a pen and paper for the things I cant signal, we have learned to adjust to our flaws and have had a good relationship ever since, although I am not sure he knows who I am after a year of being his patient, and its all about the smile.