April, 24th 2017 — Bad Cop

This article is part of the series “What is like to attempt suicide and fail”. Start there, if you have not read it yet.

Monday, D Day + 17

I woke up with the mission to continue the previous day and formalize my request to leave the clinic. Before that, however, I had to run so I wouldn’t miss breakfast. I’ve missed it. Or almost.

As I arrived at the restaurant, Maíra, the nutritionist who is cute and popular, closed the doors of hope. Rafa, who is a nice guy, came to rescue and shouted “hey, Maira, let the guy have his coffee”. Maira gave in and I had access to two corn cakes. Magic. Thanks, Rafa.

Another lecture by Dr. Juan. This time talking about the oral, anal and sexual phases. I missed part of the talk, oral.

At one point he mentioned TV as being a great source of information that we have at our disposal. Immediately I asked, “What is TV”?

At a certain moment of the day I was called to the office of one of the psychologists, the hardcore one, the “headshot” as some call him here. And Here I go.

In the waiting room I found a patient waiting very anxious. She’s one of the most severe cases I’ve ever seen here. She doesn’t speak to almost anyone (or nobody talks to her). “They hear everything we say,” she whispered to me with paranoid eyes. “I suppose they do,” I speculated, understanding I am diving into paranoia myself.

I’m called in and start my conversation with the psychologist. It had nothing to do with my depression problems. The crux of the thing was my request to leave the clinic. He’s the Bad Cop of psychologists, but a guy I imagine might like sometimein the future. We will see.

I made a list of requirements I would have to stay for a while longer. He agreed to review it and give me feedback the next day.

One of my demands was the immediate measurement of the lithium in my system, which is basic of my treatment. He asked me to see the next day with the coordinator.

At the end of my notebook I wrote, “Will I find you?”


I will post more tomorrow. I’ve created a list of songs I’m listening to while inside the psychiatric clinic. To listen, subscribe to the “After Death” playlist on Spotify.

If you want to talk to me, write to rodrigo@bressane.com.

Be kind,
Rodrigo Bressane