I’ve blogged about my friend P. before but for those who don’t know who he is, I met P. while I was in hospital a year ago, last spring.

Another blogger I know called where I (we?) were staying, “The Mental Health Palace.” Reason being, it was massive and only treated/treats psych. patients and also had a computer on our floor (I know…WTF…let the nutbars have Internet access…and even better…a LAN connection in another room…PA gets baby MacBook from home!) Yes, I blogged from hospital–it’s all under the Category: “Hospitalizations.”

Note to Self: Should revert to UK/Canadian spelling with that one!

Anyway…P.

We had an immediate connection because we’re both two complete homos! Actually, it was quite interesting. We were on the basically “Mood Disorders” Floor (or one of them?) Regardless…a whole whack of not too crazy people? Garden Variety but folks that probably need some kind of short term stay and med management.

There were 16 beds on our floor and…*laughing so hard* four of us were GAY!!!

Yes, I called us the “Gay Squad.” Again, a lot of the shenanigans are there in my blog Category (and no, no one slept with each other–two guys; two gals.) But P. and I got along the best.

I can’t quit remember the funniest the thing he said to me when we were there. The problem was, I experienced Agoraphobia for the first time in my life ever when I was admitted. It was so strange. I mean, I have a really wild psych history but I had never been Agoraphobic up until that point.

The only thing I could do when I first got there was just go outside and have a cigarette. Just outside the doors and then go back inside. I told the doctors and really…well, if you read all the missives (or don’t) they turfed me too early. But prior to all of that, they kept “pushing” me to “go out.” In my sick head, I was still questioning if that was the right way to treat someone with Agoraphobia–and I won’t even tell you now the disastrous results when they tried to send me back home for a couple of overnight stays!

So eventually, one day, I managed to make it to the end of the property. Then, P. helped me go a bit further and we’d go for tea…

It was solidified…well, for obviously so many other reasons. Lots of talks and movie rentals that he’d also get across the street near our “tea shop.” We’d watch them a bit when we got back to the ward.

So, we still keep in contact as much as we can. It’s hard to keep in contact with someone you actually meet in hospital. Has anyone else met someone in hospital and “become friends?” No really? I’m asking?

Again, I can’t remember verbatim what he said when we were bitching about “how it just isn’t any fun” to be mentally ill and all fucked up in the head.

Not to stereotype but maybe as any good fag might say, something like this?

*PA thinks trying to remember for a moment*

Yes, something like this:

P. Says: “It’s not like Sunshine and Broadway Musicals are coming out of your ass!”

If that’s not quite it…well, it’s pretty damn close.

I Love My Friend P.




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