I get a call from Wolf, "Justin called. I don't want to F%$^$ up on this." I can not make out what he's saying from his car phone.  "Did you say foul or follow up?" I try to decipher. "Look, I don't want to get into a verbal..." I cut him off. "Wolf, I am not picking on you, you are in a car and the connection is bad.  Did you say foul or follow?" I try to get him to understand.  Futile first attempt as he barks back, "If you are going to be difficult....." I cut him off again, "Wolf, please, listen. Did you say foul or follow, they mean two different things and I could not make out which word you used." Apparantly, he said "follow.” He wanted me to make a follow up call.  One altercation I think I diffused though the tensions are running high between Wolf and me.

I call Justin on a landline 'cause some of us still have them thanx to MaBelle finally hooking me up (see episode 1) though my rate has mysteriously gone up 50% in a little over  three months. I make a note to call about it.  The follow up with Justin (Wolf's tennis partner, sometime investment partner and internist) did not amount to an inviite at his favorite dinner place, Le Cote Basque, which I'd never turn down no matter how bad the company (meaning Wolf's, not his) but rather a story he had to tell 'cause unlike many males, he is a kibbitzer (yiddish for talker) and busting at the seams. Turns out, it's a good story, one for the books, so here it is:

Justin went out on a blind date.

He's a great catch, mind you.  Six feet tall, with Cary Grant good looks (google him up if you're too young to know who that is), making money and most importantly has all his own hair! Oh, did I leave out he seems to be stable. If only he wasn't into women who weren't so damn fat (anyone over 110lbs), I might have had a chance with him.  Then again, I met him through Wolf so that would be tacky despite Jerry Seinfeld's wife having broken the tabou when she dumped her fiance for Jerry (after robbing the cradle, stealing candy from the Shoshana baby, I can't say between the two who is more sleezy).  Did I mention I ran into Woody Allen on Park Avenue last week?  In any case, I have to call Justin. I keep meaning to ask him if Wolf is on any perscribed meds despite the HEFFA laws(or whatever it's called).  I'll try to be clever about it telling him Wolf's asked me to pick up the meds from the pharmacy and then ask to be reminded which they are.

You know, I just don't get it; if someone is unwell is it in the public's interest to keep it a secret?  Who doesn't want to avoid someone on the bus if they have a cold? Or not to jump into bed with someone who has Herpes?  Why should these things, including mental wellness, be off limits?  Should we walk around with a bible asking people to swear on it before we engage them in any way? (that's a big assumption these days, that the general public even knows what the good book's contents are).  These infectuous people aren't even charged with civil offenses when their conditions are revealed and so they run free to infect the rest of us. How sane is that? And, I'd like to know, how is it considered an invasion of privacy when on the other side of the scale is the right to the truth?  What does congress call it, when they demand disclosure - the patriotic act?  What does the press call it - the freedom of information act?  The way it is, the rest of us are left to do as I do - having to resort to snooping around.  The table is turned, upside down, since getting to the truth makes one into a criminal.  What a mixed up system of justice!

Ok, back to Justin. This story is his. 

I call Justin who's free to chat since even Palm Beach has a low season; like every major holiday. He's not overly busy at the moment.  "Get this," he says, meaning it's going to be a good one. I'm psyched (finding out about Wolf's meds will have to wait til later). "You know when you chat on line with someone and think that maybe you should meet?" He opens and continues, "So I tried to look up her profile while chatting. It was vague. You know, the usual; I'm a great dancer, good looking, a great cook and best of all a fabulous lover." I have to show I'm listening so I remark, "Of course you have to meet her, after all it's been how long since you got some?" He lets out a slight giggle and continues on.


Justin meets the lady at a restaurant. She's pretty, like her picture. One hurdle down. He's relieved, but not for long.  During dinner he notices that she is licking her lips every few minutes, but not in a I-want-you-to-fuck-me sort of way.  It's a real dry lip thing. He says he's not sure if she is being suggestive or perhaps unaware of what she's doing, so he asks her if she wants water.  The waiter brings her water and then three more glasses in the first half hour. The first course was served, and she asks for yet another glass of water (that makes 4 for those who are counting).  Justin, being the brilliant doc that he is, puts it together and finally asks his date, "Are you dehydrated?" "Well, I guess I am" Justin thinks for a second, "if I didn't know better, I'd say you're taking meds that dry your mouth". "Well, yes" she replied hesitantly. "So what medicine is that?" He asks thinking he's being polite in his inquiry. "I take four hundred milligrams of Zoloft," she informs him (he tells me fifty is the normal dosage of the antidepressant). “Four hundred milligrams! So, you're bi-polar?" He's says (he's a doctor, he knows these things). "Yes, that's why I take six hundred milligrams of Lithium," she answers his questions without batting an eye. Again he informs me that half is the normal dosage and that at her dosage there are other side affects. "Six hundred milligrams! So, do you have problems with your kidneys?" It goes on. "Yes, but I take Sequarel occasionally," she informs him.  "And how much of that do you take?" He needs to know. "Seventy Five milligrams," she still doesn't bat an eye but motions the waiter for another glass of water. Justin is quick to point out that she's taking three times the norm and the side effect is muscular weakness.  "How do you manage during the day if you take Sequarel?" He really wants to know. "I take testosterone shots once every two weeks to help with that," she continues to matter-of-factly answer each coming question. “Testosterone! So do you have hair growing in places typical of men?" He knows not only what to ask but also what to expect.  "Yes, but I wax," she answers. "And so do you have a low sex drive as a side effect from all these drugs?" There is no side bar on this one. "Well, I guess I would have sex if I was awake, but normally I am asleep very early."  She's telling the truth, he tells me as if I didn't already get that.  She asks him if there's anything else he wants to know. "Yes, when is bedtime because it's already nine o'clock?"   

I swear he says it's a true story. If not, well then I have a bone to pick with Justin.   


Maybe you've heard of giving someone an olive branch.  For me the alliteration went a bit differently, I actually got a wishbone in the mail from my aunt, another medical mess I was not speaking with.  Along with her note, "Do you still have a bone to pick with me?" That's not an apology, nor a statement demonstrating any understanding of what she has done of late. I could write a book on those situations alone. I will give a few highlights:

I was having a very bad day, having fought about an hour with the ex-husband over the kids' activities, and then another two hours screaming over a business deal. I was fried, done and readying for bed, until the phone rang. It was my aunt on the line.  "I gave you a piano and you have never once sent me a card."  This is insanity. "Auntie, look I've sent you cards. I’ve never missed your birthday and I’ve always sent you thank you notes which you've sent back to me. I still have them and will show you the next time I see you. I’ll give them back to you. I have had an awful day today, fought with the ex and in business, and I really don't want to be hassled right now." Before I could say goodbye, "OK, then I'll call back tomorrow." She hung up. Problem solved for the night at least because I did get the haranguing call the next day.

I had no idea until yesterday that Lithium is used to treat psychotics as well as bi polar patients. Maybe I need to wisen up because what I do know is that I know way too many certified nuts and way too little about the obvious signs.  Justin told me that anyone who’s in psychotherapy for years (that means speaks with a shrink regularly) is either depressed or has issues with anxiety.  I am glad at my age that I am now getting the tip off.