I must be a Drama Magnet

Last Sunday, I was feeling really down in the dumps. Just really fucking low, as evidenced by my post last Tuesday before I left for work. Like, three months away from becoming another statistic.

The previous weekend, I was doing all right. We all went up to Chris & Yanellie's place, and had great pizza, & fun playing with their boys. When Victor gave me a hug, Chris noted that I looked content holding him. He was correct.

Anyway, on Monday, I went into work, and filled out forms for insurance.

On Tuesday, I got a message from my buddy Matt on CBR. He'd read my blog post and demanded that I go to a hospital "NOW."

Smart lad, he is.

I played it cool; I was feeling a little better. Then I got the news that I can only apply for insurance within certain windows. The next one being in January.

I called up the insurance company and proceeded to get the runaround. I asked three people where the logic in this policy was, and got no answer. I asked them, "is it not stupid that we have to wait? I want to give you money. I don't understand what the problem is."

I was getting angry. "What multi-millionaire CEO do I have to talk to in order to get an answer around here?"

I was put on hold.

I hung up. I was very angry. I felt frustrated. I felt hopeless. I wanted to scream and cry. I was going to explode. I pulled myself together long enough to tell my boss that I was leaving.

A 2-hour workday. Nice.

I ran out of the office and tried to recall a list of places to go if you don't have insurance. The name Bellevue Hospital stuck out in my mind, as it was very close to SVA. I got on the 1 train, switched to the L at 14th, and then switched to the 6 train to 23rd Street. I got out of the subway, sent a text message to Lynne and Morts (another friend from CBR) saying, "hey, I'm going to the hospital, I'll talk to you soon."

On my way over, Lynne called and offered to come with me. I found a pizza place, grabbed something to eat, and waited for Lynne.

We walked up & over to Bellevue, and tried to figure out where to go. We settled on the Emergency Room, and got directed to the psych ward. Bowie & Carlos came to the hospital after they got out of work, but couldn't get to the area we were in. From 4 to 9:30, we sat in the waiting room. Lynne called the guys every half hour to update them. Around 8, she told them to go home. During that time, I was given an initial triage interview, then I spoke to a student psych & a resident psych, then right before we left, the psychiatrist.

Also during that time, we got to witness real crazy. People who stay in the ward, people were brought in when they didn't take their meds & committed crimes, people who were released and came back because they didn't know what to do...basically, great reference for stories.

It was late, we were exhausted. I called Carlos, Bowie, & Morts, and explained what happened in slightly better detail. We got more pizza, and I took Lynne home. I walked home from her place, stopping at the Neptune Diner for some "blueberry" pie a la mode.

Another CBR pal was working on a painting of blueberry pie, and I was craving it. Too bad the pie really sucked. It didn't have blueberries. It was a slab of purple gel baked between two crusts.

I finished my walk home, turned on my computer, opened my email, and saw a new message from Francis with the subject, "Bad News."

I didn't need to open it, but I did anyway. Inger had died Monday night. The wake is scheduled for August 25th, at a bar she used to frequent.

I sank down in my chair and went numb. Well, more numb than I had already been that day. I sort of coasted through the week. Friday, I left work early and spent the night at Lynne's; I really didn't want to be alone.

Carlos & Tara invited me to hang out with them, but I just couldn't. I have a rule: no matter how much I love them, I can't hang out with a happy couple. There's nothing else that reminds me more of just how much of a complete social fuckup I am than being a third wheel. I prefer one-on-one or small groups.

So when Morts had invited me out to spend the weekend with him & his family in Teaneck for a change in scenery, I accepted. He and his wife Suzannah have an adorable 6 year old daughter (see the MoCCA post) who likes me a lot, plus his sister-in-law and aunt were visiting.

I showed up at his house Saturday evening just before the end of Shabbos, and was greeted with a familial dilemma. The sister-in-law (SIL) was in a shitty relationship. She lived with her boyfriend in Kew Gardens, Queens. The boyfriend/douchebag is a controlling, manipulative jerk, who's 20+ years her senior. SIL has daddy issues and seeks approval from him. He takes every opportunity to degrade her. Over the past couple of years, they've broken up many times, each time it lasted for a day, if that. She got her own apartment a few months ago, but hadn't moved in. But now, she finally had enough of him.

"Hey, Jeff, wanna help us move her out?"

This is extra funny, because the first time I went over to Morts' house was to help him move over Labor Day weekend last year. That's all I do when I go there is move stuff around. Plus, I'm taller than everyone else there, so I'm just rather helpful getting things down from tall shelves, etc.

Morts and I talked for a while, watched some TV, and slowly put together a plan to move SIL out. He called up my hetero life mate Mike, and his friend David to help out. I was the "secret weapon" in the moving crew. I'm more physically intimidating (for once, I can use my powers for good) than anyone else in the crew, and the douchebag had never met me.

We all retired for the night, but something prevented us from sleeping. Morts' neighbors downstairs were having a party, which they do very often. The bass was jumping. People were loud. After a few minutes, Morts called the police. Their doorbell rang shortly after, and the place went SILENT.

We got in a good six hours of sleep, piled into two cars, and headed out to Kew Gardens. The Pale Posse Moving Crew (Morts & David are Orthodox Jews who shun the sun, Mike and I are White Nerds with Computeritis) stayed in the new apartment while a U-Haul van and Mike were picked up.

The four of us got in the van with the SIL, and I escorted her to her old apartment, with Morts & Mike behind me with folded boxes and a hand truck. David waited at the van so we could hand stuff off to him.

SIL and I went in, and the douchebag asked me to wait outside so they could have a minute. I asked her if it was okay, and she said yes. I stepped outside and he closed the door.

I could hear them talking, but couldn't make out any words. I'll let Mike sum up the immediate event:

Scene: Outside SIL & Douchebag's apartment. Jeff, Michael, and Morts are standing around talking shit about CBR posters.

SFX (from inside apartment): Thud.

Jeff: (knocks on door; it opens): Is everything all right?

Douchebag: It's fine. Just give us a minute.

Jeff: From what I've heard about you, you don't get a minute.

Douchebag: (angrily slams door)

Jeff: (forcibly shoves the door open, forcing Douchebag to step/cower backwards to avoid getting his noggin split open) You do NOT slam the door on me. (pulls the door gently closed. It locks from inside.)

Michael and Morts: (stand in awe of Jeff's distilled badassery)

You can read the full story here (just do it after you finish this post):

http://forums.comicbookresources.com/showthread.php?t=184868

It turns out he had thrown the box of bubble wrap down the hallway by the front door (he didn't throw it at her).

SIL came out a little while later and asked up to grab lunch while she packed. The douchebag did not want us around while he got all weepy.

We returned an hour later, and got her stuff out in a half hour. It was pretty easy, as there wasn't any furniture to move, just books, clothes, & videos.

We got to the new place, unloaded the van into the lobby, and the ladies took the van back to U-Haul. Mike & David also departed, as they had other appointments to keep. Morts and I got about 1/3 done bringing things up in the elevator when it decided to not work properly. We called for it, but it would never show up on our floor. It stopped one floor above wherever we needed it to go. While Morts tried to figure out a cheat code of sorts, I went up to find the superintendent. He experimented for a bit, and went to the basement to reset the computer that controls the elevator. That fixed it, and we finished the job quickly.

Suzannah & SIL talked about how I scared the shit out of the guy, and apparently they think I'm just dreamy. Here's a synopsis of their conversation, as told to me by Morts:

"He's cute."

"He's an atheist."

I suppose that can put a damper on things if you're very religious, but I'm not interested anyway.

After everything was sorted out, I got dropped off at home. I cleaned up and relaxed for the rest of the day.

Monday, I had my 4 PM appointment at Bellevue. I was under the impression that I was going to see a social worker about getting health care, but instead, I talked to a psychologist and a psychiatrist.

It was very difficult telling the same story to more people I don't know. I cried a few times, talking about dad, Eric, and Inger. It was all overwhelming and draining. The psychiatrist prescribed a week of Effexor XR (Venlafaxine) at 75 mg, which I had to pick up Tuesday before work, as the hospital pharmacy was closed by the time I got out of there. It's a week-long prescription because they want to see if I can handle the side effects. Within two hours, I became extremely drowsy, and my libido has absolutely decreased - believe it or not, I can deal with that. It's better than being horny & frustrated all the time.

*cough* carpal tunnel *cough*

I have another appointment with the doctors next Monday. They're definitely going to put me in a program of therapy & medication.

I walked out of the hospital with something I haven't felt in a long time.

A glimmer of hope.