"So I put all my stuff in the wash and lost my script. Could you please re print it/re-write it, whatever."

"No."

"But i need it."

"No."

"Tim, please."

"Still no. Book a 30 minute appointment. I don't write those up for patients I don't know. And I am perusing your file..."

He squints and looks at the screen, then back at me, then back at the screen. My face is blank. There is glitter stuck to my left cheek.  "Some background in this. It helps. Your story, your life. Dr Patterson. Did you ever follow up with him."

"Dr Patterson. No. I am busy"

"I think, call him. He is a nice guy. We went to uni together. I don't think a check in with Dr Patterson couldn't make anything worse."

"I have no control over my impulses. When I ... I am a very bad person. I want to be a good person.""

"Yes, that's great, call your priest but medically speaking I think you should talk to Dr Patterson. He specialises in that."

"No. I am really busy. Print out the referral again. If you want. I need the script though please. I dont really have time to tell you all my stuff. Print it and sign it thanks. The ADHD business is secondary, whatever. ADHD is a social construct. It is a label for people who behave badly, who lack self control. I fondly drape it around my moral transgressions but it is nonsense and we both know it. A bad personality is a bad personality."

We sit in silence for a bit. I am angry. "Okay, the referal, the script, whatever. I need you to write me up."

"No"

"How much time do you have? Heaps? Because I don't have much. Please!!! Write the stupid script. Please." I am crying. Please don't. Please do. I just want to get out of there. Write the script. Just write it and I will go away. It is all the more reason to do it. Surely. 

"This is bullsh*t" I emplore. You have scales. That's pretty cool. Havent used scales in a while. I weigh myself. The number is ok. "Could you just write it up please" says the lawyer to the doctor. I am exhausted. I am close to resigning defeat. I will not resort to lying.

"My dear girl" he laughs. "I was divorced not so long ago." He looks at me, my stained face, the paint on my wrists and legs, the pretty sun out side the window. 

"So solve my f*cking problems!!!"

I don't mean it unkindly and he knows this.

"Thats's what I said to my lawyer. In the divorce." We both laugh, sort of. Blood soaked rainbows.

"Okay."

"The sun will rise tomorrow. Take a hot bath and buy some flowers. That's your script. Here is my emergency number. Book a 30 minute appointment for the weekend please." She nods, smiles, takes the card. She cant always have her way. The weekend comes and goes and she forgets all about it. Sort of. It is always there.