A good sign
She wants to kill herself,
and I want the ac turned down.
She had fried chicken for lunch.
For lunch, I had meatloaf.
I've had meatloaf two days
in a row, now, because it is
about the only thing that I
can chew on after having
oral surgery last week.
I've been where she's
at, before,
both with the fried chicken,
for lunch, part of it, and with the
wanting to kill yourself part of it.
She has done the right thing, though,
like I did the right thing about depression
that ignores the pills that are being fed to
it. She called the Doctor, went to see him,
and he has set her up with an immediate
appointment to see the Psychiatrist.
I ask her if I can have her banana pudding.
She says, "no," and I figure that is a good sign.
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