The ‘Taker of Vital Signs’ guy came in.
Hooked me up to all the usual suspects.
Then Vampira came in, needled me and stole some blood.
Since this was my fourth visit, I knew the drill by heart by now.
Tried to sleep.
After a spell, Young Pretty Doc came back.
“We have arranged a video conference for you with The Psychological Evaluation Professional. Are you Okay with that?”
“Certainly,” I said.
“Okay,” she replied. “Sign here,” and put some paper in front of me.
I had difficulty signing properly because of the shakes, but I did my level best to scratch out something resembling my name.
“Okay, good. Thank you, “ she said. “It may be a while, while we set it up. Try to rest.”
Several hours later, and after what little booze I had left in my body had worn off, The Delirium Tremens Monster once again paid me a visit.
“Hi, it’s me again,” he greeted me. “How’s Trix?”
“Fuck off,” I said. “I am in Hospital. You can’t hurt me here.”
“Au contraire,” he said. “Hide and watch.”
I called the nurse.
“I am having a panic attack. Can you give me some good drug?”
“Lemme check with the Pretty Young Doctor.”
Some minutes later I was given a small white pill. Ate it. And waited.
About an hour later I was reaching for the arms of Morpheus. Blissfully, if fitfully, asleep.
Some more hours later, I was awakened by Pretty Young Doctor and informed it was time for my Psychological Test.
“But Doc,” I protested, “I have not finished studying.”
“Relax,” she said. “You’ll do just fine.”
And then an IPAD was placed in front of me.
Video checks and sound checks were performed and off we began.
Another Pretty Young Doc appeared on the screen.
“Hello Lance, my Name is Nancy. How are you this morning?”
“Been better,” I said.
“I have some questions for you,” she continued.
“Figured you did.”
“Shall we begin then?”
“Of course. What I’m here for.”
To be continued.
SEAL Training: Psych Eval
While stationed at Great Mistakes (Errrr…Great Lakes) Naval Training Command, I did my due diligence and qualified for BUD/s (Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training in Coronado, California)
After passing the physical physical and clearing all the other stuff (mostly based upon my ASVAB scores and my ability to swim like a dolphin), A Final Task faced me: I had to pass unblemished through an interview with a psychiatrist. Just a formality, right? (Last hurdle: “Lance, do NOT fuck this up.”)
“This should be fun,” I recall thinking as I waited for my interview.
I was eventually summoned and sat my ass down in front of a geeky, mouse-eyed shrink. He obviously had ‘issues’ of his own. This I could discern straight-away from his limp-wristed demeanor. And obviously the only SEAL he had ever met was in some vain dream fantasy.
No matter. I was there just to get my ticket punched.
After a dozen or so stupid questions about such things as how did I feel about my mother, have I ever killed anything (Uh, do frogs count?), the price of tea in China, ad nauseam, he came to his pièce de résistance:
“Seaman Marcom,” he broached, “If you were ordered by your SEAL Team Leader to go in and clear a room whilst on a mission, and you burst into this room only to discover an elderly lady in a rocking chair reading a bible, what would you do?”
I waited for my dramatic pause, then said,
“Sir, I would shoot the bible.”*
Smiling, I observed him take his rubber stamp out and stamp “Approved” on my papers.
“California Here I Come”
Video Credit: L. Heitmann via YouTube
In the Nav, we have bombastic bullshit ‘tellings’, euphemistically known as ‘Sea Stories’. These are always introduced with the mandatory preamble:
“Now, this is a no-shitter…”
The above telling (though completely factual) is a wonderful example of same.