It depends on what country you live in. As a rule of thumb, them more computerized the country is, the lesser your chances are of that ole suicide attempt fading into obscurity. In fact, over in the USA, it’s gonna get worse.
If you have insurance, you are more likely to be tracked. Caid/Care are the worst for that.
Pray for a red tape error. Spell your name wrong. Or goof your SSN by one digit. Mix up an 8 with a 5, or a 7 with a 1. Or two numbers that sound alike. Nine and five. Then chew them out for getting it wrong in a few months when they claim you owe them hundreds of thousands of dollars for an ER visit, just to cover your ass. Be sure your name is written wrong on that plaster cast they put on your leg, too. Don’t worry, if you got a mile-long name, like one of those nice Russian names, they’ll spell it wrong, anyway.
You were never on meds. Never seen a shrink. But your brother’s a lawyer. A medical malpractice lawyer. Your sister is a human rights worker. And…let’s see. You got a nest egg somewhere. Tied up in a Swiss bank.
You got rich, powerful parents who don’t take shit from peons such as shrinks. Your dad owns all the major newspapers, you know, Murdoch, Bill Gates..well, don’t get too fancy about it cuz they’ll assume you got delusions of grandeur.
On every psych ward there’s always some nut on the phone with an imaginary lawyer. I always wondered about that. That gal got pissed off at something and then went running to the phone.
Staff would shake their heads. Wow, she’s nuts. What else she got? A fancy car or two? A mansion somewhere?
Really, if you know, say….what’s that guy’s name? The movie star guy who is Scientologist. Tell the staff you gonna call him, he’s your cousin. I can picture him but I am blanking out on the name.
Elvis? Naw, that won’t work. He’s dead. If you say you are talking to Elvis you will get some free Clozapine.
Please don’t give the Clozapine to your cat. Do you want cat drool all over your pillow tonight?
Toss the shit out the window. Gimme some real dope. This stuff is a bad trip.
Okay, now I recall. Tom Cruise.
Tell me, why are Scientologists rich? Or maybe the ones we know about, no?
I wanna be rich, too. Couple of cars in the yard, cats in the garage.
Aw, no, it’s the other way around. Green grass, too. Feather bed, ten mattresses high. Make that a double or queen. To hell with mental health. I need sex. Bad.
When you’re done with all that, you will have forgotten about that noose you put up in the basement. I think the shrinks will run away very quickly.
You are free now. That done the trick. At your service. Anytime. And don’t forget to pay the copay on your way out.
