But will insurance pay for that diagnosis?

Let’s take a brief respite from news of oil spills, economic collapse, banks laundering money and priests molesting children.  Time for a humor break.

At this time, I am reading Mt. Misery by Samuel Shem which is based on the misadventures of a young psychiatric intern doing penance at a posh mental hospital.  I am finding many laughs and much of value in the story.

Here’s a tidbit for you:

“…I interviewed a violent middle-aged Italian bricklayer with a Chief Complaint of ‘I am God’.

‘How do you know you’re God?, I asked.
‘Because I was chosen.’
‘Why were you chosen to be God?’
‘Because I was in hell. You want proof?’  He unbuttoned his shirt. On his belly was a magnificent tattoo of The Last Supper. Clearly it had been done many years before, when what was now his belly had been his chest, and when he’d been thinner, for now it had expanded, so that Christ and the Apostles were all wearing broad grins.

‘What do you think, Doc?’ Primo (the security guard) asked after we’d locked him up.

‘298.80. Brief Reactive Psychosis.’

‘Youse don’t think he’s God?’

‘He may be, but it’s not reimbursable.'”


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