Letter From Al - Humor - Brief Article

National Review, Dec 18, 2000

BETHESDA MENTAL HEALTH CLINIC

CONFIDENTIAL DOCTOR'S NOTES

PATIENT: Albert G.

11/8/00

Patient arrived exhausted, vaguely coherent, showing disturbing signs of paranoia. "I'm a winner," he continually cried. "I won the popular vote," he insisted. "Why is being popular so important to you?" I asked. Choking, he says, "because I've never felt popular before, and now they're trying to take it away." Patient begins role playing, with doctor in the place of "Dad." "Son" tells "Dad" that he's sorry that he lost, and that he'll soon be seeing him in "the bosom of heaven." Doctor takes this as veiled suicide threat, places patient on immediate course of anti- depressants and mood stabilizers.

11/10/00

Patient arrives furious. His confidence is back-as is his aggression. Spends the entire session e-mailing associates, taking phone calls, and using laptop to surf the web. When doctor reminds patient that this is important time to use for health concerns, patient becomes belligerent and threatens to sue doctor.

11/12/00

Patient arrived in full stage makeup. Says nothing for several minutes, refers all questions to his attorney, Mr. David Boies. Complains about a "sports-related injury." Apparently, during a touch-football game, patient twisted his right ankle. Doctor commends patient for keeping physically active; reminds patient that 30 minutes of daily physical activity brings mental-health benefits.

11/20/00

Patient arrives and immediately surrounds himself with American flags. Euphoric, upbeat. Has recently won an important court case. Patient proclaims doctor on the "short list" to be Surgeon General. Doctor expresses concern that patient isn't quite in the position to make such an appointment, as Palm Beach county has declined to continue its recount. Patient hadn't heard. Patient and doctor spend the rest of the session watching "Hardball" together.

11/27/00

Patient arrived exhausted, vaguely coherent, showing disturbing signs of paranoia. Suggest course of drug treatment, beginning with sedative (Valium, Darvon), ending with Prolax or Serentol. A mix of drugs may be the only way to keep patient stable.

CAPITOL HEALTH PROVIDERS, INC., AUSTIN, TEXAS

PHYSICIAN'S NOTES

PATIENT: G. W. Bush

11/8/00

Fella comes in with a big old oozy thing on the side of the head. Big old black oozy thing. I say to him, "Buddy, where you been stickin' your face? Looks like you went bobbin' for apples in a barrel of ticks!" He kind of laughs and says to me, "Doc, just you got some kind of bandage or ornament for this mess here?" And he points to it and kind of picks at it. He's just about to jab a big old fingernail into that ugly black thing so I have to get into his face. I say to him, "Bud, stop pickin' that! That there's a boil or a scab or some other ugly oozy thing and not some kind of crispy cheese, you damn fool." And he says to me, "Don't you just love that crispy hard cheese on the side of a plate of enchiladas?" And I say to him, "Sure do, bud." And we just kind of smile, thinking about how good that cheese can taste, you know?

11/12/00

Fella comes back with the big old black bump taped up with tape and gauzy stuff. "Whatcha got there, amigo?" I ask him. "Same thing, Doc," he says to me. "Still got this thing on the side of my head, only now I got it all taped up." I take a look at the tape. Pretty good job, it seems to me, and I tell him so. "The wife did it yesterday," he says in reply. "You hold onto that wife. She's good with the tape," I say. And he sort of nods and kinda laughs like there's no way he's gonna let her go. We kind of sit there for a moment, enjoying the quiet. I light myself another cigarette. "Hey, bud, how's your dog?" he asks me, and I tell him, and we get to talkin'.

11/22/00

Bud kind of breezes in, snappy-like, in a hurry. Big old black thing on the side of his face is pretty much gone now. Little sticky marks where the tape sticky stuff stayed on. "Looks pretty good," I say to him. "Yeah," he says, "the wife peeled off the tape this morning. Hurt like an SOB." I laugh. I say "Hey, bud, any idea at all what the hell that ugly black oozy thing was?" And he kind of looks at me and shakes his head. "You're the doc," he says to me. And then we both just bust out laughing. Got a few minutes before my next patient, so him and me have a drink-I take a whiskey and he takes a Coke (fella don't drink, I guess)-and we sit there jawin' about this and that.