I had two favorite television shows when I was a kid ... The Partridge Family and Gilligan's Island. My friends and I would pile into bean bag chairs and watch those two shows every week, and then we would spend hours putting our vivid imaginations to work as we pretended we were either 1) family members who were huge, gigantic rock stars who traveled the country in an old, multi-colored school bus, or 2) stuck on a desert island with a bunch of crazy people. Sometimes when I think back on some of the things we did as kids, I just shake my head in amazement at the difference between what my generation considered entertainment as compared to the children of today. Seriously ... my granddaughter isn't even a year old and she knows how to Skype and play baby games on an iPad. Granted, she is a genius, but it is seriously a whole different world for the kiddos of today.
Besides my Partridge Family and Gilligan's Island memories, there's also something else I remember from when I was a kid ... I used to get headaches, really bad migraine headaches. All those years ago (and trust me, it was a lot of years ago since I was a child), the doctors didn't know much about migraines. At first, they thought I had a brain tumor or some other serious brain issue. I don't remember how they ruled that out, but once they did, they decided to send me to a child psychologist (yes, there's been another head doctor in my life) to see if my headaches and my extremely mischievous behavior had some sort of psychological root. I can remember that doctor's office as if I had walked through the door yesterday ... the color of the walls, the scent of the leather chair, the model cars that sat on the bookshelves. I can't recall how many times I had to visit the good doctor, but I do remember what he told Mom and Dad ... he said my headaches were probably caused by some sort of food allergy, and that my mischievous behavior stemmed from the fact that I was too smart for my own good. He told my parents ... get this ... he told my parents that I wasn't crazy. The good doctor made me take a bunch of tests, and he told Mom and Dad that I wasn't crazy at all.
Those of you who've been reading along with me for any length of time know that I don't watch much television anymore, but you also know that I do have one show that I could watch for days on end ... yep, I love The Big Bang Theory, and I especially love me some Sheldon Cooper. I can relate to Sheldon on so many levels, as I've written about before. His spot on the couch ... eating certain foods on certain days ... having irrational fears ... staying true to his nerdy sense of style ... ahhh, yes ... Sheldon could very well be my twin. I have a ton of favorite Sheldon quotes, not the least of which is "Bazinga!," but my most favorite of all time is when he is speaking with a policeman after his apartment has been robbed and he says, "No sir, I'm not crazy ... my mother had me tested."
There's a mental health facility across the street from my office, and every day when I warm my lunch in the microwave, I look out the window and watch people go in and out of the hospital. I wonder about the people who come and go, people who work there and visitors going to see someone they love ... and I also wonder about the people who don't come and go, people who are patients receiving treatment for various mental illnesses. And many days over the last couple of years, I've wondered if I might one day be one of those patients. In fact, I've made a deal with a couple of the gals I work with ... if the day should ever come that I need to go to the hospital across the street, they've promised to walk me there and check me in so the guys in the white coats don't come haul me out in front of everyone. Don't even tell me that's not rational thinking ... that's planning ahead at its best, friends ... that's being really, really smart and planning ahead. Remember ... the head doctor from my youth said I wasn't crazy, and so does the life-saving head doctor of today.
No sir, I'm not crazy ... my mother had me tested.
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