Totally Unauthorized

A side of the film industry most people never see.

I’m feeling much better now, really.

This morning the doctor called just to check in, and during the course of the conversation he mentioned that I need to find a therapist.

Me: “Why do I need to see a therapist? You gave me pills.”

After a long silence (during which I could almost hear him contemplating a career change), he sighed heavily and told me that the pills (which are totally great, BTW) are a short-term solution and since I can’t take them for the rest of my life I’m going to have to actually deal with my problems.


Although I promised I’d get to it eventually, I’m going to have to wait a few days because of The Oyster Incident.

There’s a lady at the weekly Hollywood farmer’s market who sells farm-raised oysters (actually, I think they’re ‘line-raised’ but I don’t know one from the other) for a very reasonable price and while most of the time I can pass without making a purchase every once in a while something in the universe shifts and I just can’t say no.

I got a dozen, iced them down, threw them in the fridge, and spent Monday afternoon on the back porch with my oysters and my fancy German-made oyster knife which is supposed to make shucking them an absolute breeze, but they must have designed it for big weakling German oysters because those little California ones put up one hell of a fight.

In addition to being difficult to pry apart, they’re small and have lightweight shells. Normally, with the bigger oysters, if you miss and the knife slips, a small chunk of shell will break off and then you just have to try again. With these little ones, if you don’t get the knife in at just the right angle, a bigger chip of shell breaks off and the knife skids across the top of the oyster and plunges into any bit of soft tissue. Since I use a dish towel for protection most of the almost-stabbings happen around the thumb area, but this time the knife grazed my wrist since I was stupidly holding the thing in my hand as I attempted to pry it open, and now I’ve got a really nasty-looking gash.

No one who has seen it has believed my story – they’ve all given me that narrow-eyed “yeah right” look when I tell them what happened and that there was no alcohol involved.

Now, while I’ll freely admit to having contemplated killing someone else more than once, I just can’t see any potential entertainment value in suicide.

Since it’s not something I’d even remotely begin to consider, I’d just love to avoid the inevitable accusation/denial/intervention cycle so I’m going to wait until the thing’s completely healed before seeking out any headshrinking services.

Thankfully, the cut’s not deep (it’s really more of a scratch) so it should heal fairly quickly.

I have to work tonight and I don’t want to wear long sleeves (it’s currently hotter than Satan’s balls here in Los Angeles), so maybe I’ll just wear some of those 70’s-era terrycloth wristbands and hope that people think I’m trying to be ironic.

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5 Responses

  1. meg says:

    Oyster shucking is one of those things best left to a professional, IMO. The best ones I ever ate were at an oyster bar in Vancouver, Canada. It was called The Baker’s Dozen, 12 different varieties, with an extra one thrown in. Shucked, on the half shell, on ice, with the usual yummy stuff (fresh horseradish, and a cocktail sauce they made fresh there.) Yum. I ate them all by myself. Hope you heal fast!

  2. geekhiker says:

    Definitely best to let it heal, especially if you see someone who takes every little thing you say, do, or look like with total and complete seriousness…

  3. Frank says:

    For the record, it is possible to get over panic attacks. In 1999 I was coming off a relationship with one hell of an individual and was having multiple panic attacks — one wouldn’t finish before the next one began, sometimes. I was put on meds for that and my newly-diagnosed clinical depression and went into therapy. Despite having to deal with both of those things, that individual doing her best to manipulate me into taking care of her (and terminating that relationship) as well as my Dad dying, a year later I was going off the meds.

    One thing about the meds, though. If they’re the same as the ones I used (which name escapes me at the moment, sigh), do not try to go off them cold turkey. You’ll be sorry. I tried that and had instant panic attacks again, the whole nine yards. I went back on them, the panic attacks went away and then I tapered off over about six weeks. I haven’t needed meds since, nor have I had problems with panic attacks.

    So, meds and therapy. It works. Oh, and I’m still on meds and in therapy for the depression; that, unfortunately, will never go away, it can only be managed. Fortunately I’m one of the lucky 20% for whom the combination works very well.

  4. Charli says:

    I wish I could say that it’s totally gross to eat oysters, I would never, but then again, in my youth, being Hispanic and all, we use to eat cow brains and cow intestines.

    Yeah, gross.

  5. hkdizzle says:

    i have a small scar on my left wrist from a former boss’s truck tailgate…we were unloading some boxes and my wrist grazed a piece of the bit of metal that holds the tailgate shut when it’s closed.

    it bled a bit, and didn’t require stitches, but 15+ years later it looks like a lame “tried to start something & chickened out” suicide attempt.

    i got a tattoo just above where the scar is, and my tattoo artist gave me a funny look when he saw the scar.

    no one believes me either. hee.

    and i agree w/ your doctor…therapy helps. when you do decide to go off the pills try st. john’s wort & as much regular exercise as your knee can handle…should handle the anxiety.

    though i do think freaking out once & awhile is good for the soul. keeps your mind clear.

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