Free Rank by D. R. Graham Page A

effectively. Do you want our help or not?”
    “Not.”
    She wrote something on her pad of paper.
    “Stop dicking around,” I mumbled.
    “Oh,” he continued, enjoying it too much to stop. “I do have one real obsessive thought.”
    They all looked at him again. So gullible.
    “I have sexual fantasies about my psychiatrist.” He winked at her. “The images are very graphic. She’s not wearing anything except little diamond nipple rings and black stilettos. She dances around for me and puts little blue pills on my tongue before straddling my lap. The images pop in and out, and in and out, of my mind. I actually don’t mind though.”
    Fed up, Mom rolled her wheelchair back from the table and headed towards the exit. The nurse who had escorted Cole in opened the door.
    Cole watched it close behind her. Then he glared at the psychiatrist and his joking tone changed. “Listen, I’ll take medication to balance out my moods, but don’t try to label me with more issues that I don’t have. I’m not OCD, I’m not suicidal, and I’m not homicidal. I want to be able to drink, I don’t want to get man boobs, I don’t want my ability to perform sexually to be affected, and I don’t want to have to take more pills to deal with side effects. If you don’t have a medication that can do all that, I won’t be taking anything.”
    “We need to ask you these questions to make sure we are using the best medication for your symptoms. If you don’t have a particular symptom, simply say that you do not have that symptom. You don’t need to play games with us.”
    “Okay, let me summarize for you. I get depressed and do nothing for a while. Then I get manic and do a bunch of crazy shit for a while. When I take your medication, I don’t get depressed or manic, but I can’t sleep or eat or drink alcohol. I’m really not convinced that your way is better.”
    The psychiatrist took a deep breath as if she needed to compose herself so she wouldn’t lose it on him. “If you attended your weekly sessions, we would be able to monitor your symptoms better and adjust your dosages.”
    “Yeah, well, I’m busy.”
    I glanced over at him. “Cut it out,” I said under my breath.
    He sat back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest again. “I suppose you’re going to give me something for belligerence.”
    She put the pen down and smiled, but seemed exhausted. “I wish it were that simple. There is an easy way to avoid these types of meetings if you dislike them so much.”
    “How’s that?”
    “Follow your treatment protocol and stop abusing your body.”
    He tilted his head and grinned at her, prepared to push her to her breaking point. “I like the abuse. What does that say about me?”
    “It says that you’re a twenty-two year old male who hasn’t matured enough yet to know what’s really important.” Her tone made it clear she was losing her patience.
    “So, because you spent something like twelve years in university, you think you know what’s really important to me?”
    She paused as if she was contemplating walking out, but then asked, “What’s really important to you, Cole?”
    “Riding bulls and getting laid. If I can’t do those two things I’d rather be dead. And yes, that is a suicide threat.”
    She lifted her eyebrows and did the unimpressed smile again. She rested her chin on her palm and tapped her finger on her lip as she stared at him, out of ideas.
    “Cole, you almost died,” the bald doctor said. “If you keep doing things like that, your liver is going to give out. You can’t ride bulls if your liver gets damaged.”
    Cole actually seemed to hear that, but then he stood. “May I leave now? I’ve got a rodeo I need to get to.”
    They all glanced at each other to confer. The social worker finally answered, “Well, Cole, it’s your life, but when you don’t take care of yourself or take your mental health seriously, you burden your family.”
    “I don’t hear them