Paging Dr. Ficus

 

    "You know, I had a higher opinion of psychologists until I spent time at Lane Mental Health," Ben says when he spots me reading an book on psychology. So did I.

    "What changed your mind?" I ask, putting the book aside.

    "Well for one thing they tend to get stuck on a diagnosis regardless of other symptoms or lack of response to treatment," he begins.

    "Oh like the numerous counselors, doctors and teachers who never spotted my autism because they fixated on certain things like eye contact, verbal skills, blah, blah. It never occurred to them to think beyond the obvious and consider it presents differently in girls than boys because, you know, they're really the same," I respond with an edge.

    " And sometimes the doctors are as delusional as the patients. For instance, there was one guy who was clearly OCD but the doc kept trying to convince him he was schizo. I tried to get the guy to dissuade doctor dumbass but he made the mistake of mentioning our conversation to him,"

    "Oh no," I groan, seeing where this lead.

    "Oh yeah, I used to be in the office with a nice window view but after that," he sighs in regret.

    We pause to give the subject some reflection.

    "Humans sure have a wide difference of view of reality," he says at last.

    "On any given subject," I add sardonically. "People believe in whatever makes them feel comfortable amid uncertainty. How they arrive at that has always been a mystery to me," I shake my head at the futility of understanding.

    " I think y'all are too close to the subject to be objective. Imagine if humans woke up tomorrow and were telepathic, wouldn't that shake things up," Ben chuckles. I chortle in horror.

    "Half the population would die when they discover what others really think of them while the other half would die when they realize no one thinks about them at all," I reply and decide reading a book is safer than talking to a ficus.