Monday, July 24, 2006

You Can't Escape (or Maybe You Can?)

I'm still grieving the lost of my post, Off Label In Jail, inspired by an article in the 7/22 New York Times about a Maryland psychiatrist (no one I know) who was arrested for giving paid talks promoting the off-label use of Xyrem, a medication marketed only for narcolepsy, which contains GHB, the substance in the date rape drug. ClinkShrink, in kind form as she continues to address my constant quest for a viewable sidebar, shortened some lines I had drawn around a direct quote, but does not think that caused most of the entry to be eaten. I am left to blame the Support Duck as Max does not eat lines (he only eats meat).

You Can't Escape: or rather, I Can't Escape. I picked up a novel the other night, one I got from the library, chosen-- like I choose my wines--for the pretty cover. The first chapter was titled "Confinement" and the protagonist was having trouble getting up throughout the night, so I correctly assumed she was pregnant. By page two, her water had broken. By page three, it was apparent that she was a prison inmate about to deliver either a jail baby or a gummy bear. I wanted to scream and throw the book out the window. And if that wasn't enough, I was at the clinic today and I was approached by a drug rep who handed me an article about the wonders of treating criminals with Depakote. He let rip a line about how prisoners get no mental health care and I told him my co-blogger (ah, did he know we had a blog? he does now!) would be deeply offended. He went on about the jails, I excused myself to return to my patient (who had been a criminal). So this time it's someone other than Foofoo & Clink making it all about their prisoners.

Another New York Times piece well worth checking out:
He Who Cast the First Stone Probably Didn’t is an op-ed article by Harvard psychologist Daniel Gilbert as he looks at the psychology of fighting-- starting in his parents' station wagon, ending in the Mideast. Just a well-written, interesting piece.


I'm off to the beach for two days of sun. Escape. No kids. No Max. No patients. No prisoners (oops, but I'm going with a judge, hoping she won't bring her clientele).