My brother and sister had done the impossible. Extremely manic, my siblings had gotten me into the emergency room and the hospital had begun the process of conducting a psychiatric evaluation. The moment they drew my blood, I knew I was going to be admitted. I had been off my meds for around a month, give or take, at the turn of the new year in 2019. Without any lithium showing up in my blood , with no doctor, and with my family insisting on getting me help, I was surely going to be a new psych patient at Swedish Covenant. Usually in these circumstances I say and do whatever needs to be done to make sure I stay out of an extended period at any given mental institution. Today was different. My guard was let down, and I was simply too far gone to put up any fight. I was so far gone, that once I met the doctor, I forgot there was even an evaluation going on. For a person who was internally debating whether he was the reincarnated soul of King Tut, my chances of getting a clean bill of mental health were at serious risk.
My first conversation with the doctor made it clear that I was living in LaLa Land. After the blood draw, I was brought to my hospital evaluation room and told to undress so as to put on hospital gowns as any normal patient. I was in my boxers, orange beanie, and an open back hospital gown. For some reason I was feeling so good I was exuding energy. I was in a giggly confident mood, and was completely unclear why I was in the place I was in or what exactly was going on. With my guard let down it was easy to extract information from me even though I was acting suspicious and coy in all of my answers. The doctor was getting nowhere with her questioning. I would make nonsensical remarks about simple things -- Do you live alone?, questioned the doctor.
-Well, right now I do, but…
-Do you have roommates?
-Not exactly.
-So you have a roommate?
-Might actually end up with two. -- The doctor couldn’t help but smile as every question she asked she was getting a non-committed, confusing reply or remark. The doctor was simply going through the preliminary questioning. She witnessed a possible psych patient just bomb the first round. She might not have been getting anywhere with the questions, but she had heard enough. I was happy, giggly, and ridiculous in all the right ways to qualify for a stay in the psych ward. You’d think it was over.
My time with the most fun psych evaluation doctor ever was over, and I was soon to be wheeled away on a hospital bed. I had no clue why or where I was going. I wasn’t dazed and confused; I was feeling a sense of achievement as I was some sort of chosen one for making it to the next stage of the on-boarding process. The victory lap past my brother and sister was taking place. I was on the throne of hospital beds and being wheeled toward an elevator. My hat had to come off and I was tossed a couple of hospital socks on my lap. I rolled passed my siblings -- they were feeling incredibly bad at what was going on knowing that I was going to a psych ward; a place they know I loathe more than anything in the world. I looked down at my newly acquired blue socks. I immediately inspected these light blue hospital socks and felt a feeling of inquiry followed my disgust. ‘What are they doing putting the white rubber no-slide grip arrows on both sides of the sock,’ I thought quickly. Enough thinking. I had a eureka moment. I held up the socks with both arms held high and socks clenched in my hands. As my brother and sister sadly watched me get carted away they saw and heard a relieving sign. “WE’RE GONNA BE RICH,” I cheered. “They’re making these socks all wrong.” I explained my billion dollar sock idea right then and there; an idea to take over the hospital sock industry by printing the no-slip sticky white rubber stuff on only one side of the sock.
I know what you’re thinking -- ‘What’s it like being rich’. If only it was that easy. Unfortunately, I was checked into another psych ward not three weeks later. There I learned the sad truth. There happens to be a hospital sock company doing exactly what I laid out that day at the end of my psych evaluation. Go figure.