Cliffs and Contracts

Its quiz time, folks.

Question:
If you saw a man hanging from the edge of a cliff who was exhausted from the exertion of hanging on for dear life, and there were sharp rocks and sharks and Bin Laden at the bottom waiting for him and he would surely die if he fell, would you

a) Upon seeing him, ask him if his fingers were killing him from holding on for so long, take a phone call, and then help him away from the ledge
b) Tell him you’ll save him for ONE MILLION DOLLARS, and if he agrees, save him
c) Tell him to suck it and walk away
d) First take his ONE MILLION DOLLARS - and his watch - then walk away
e) Rush to him and save him pronto – ooh, and then notify the FBI and CIA you have found Bin Laden

I’d choose b. I think. Haha

ANNNNNYWAAAAY, I ask you this because I was actually asked this question earlier today in my sesh with the T. Basically, guys, my treatment team has put me under a contract. A contract is a sucky thing that makes you feel stupid and expendable and passive-aggressive. I have to do a number of things, and if I fail to comply, I’m fired. My T and my D said they had decided this needed to happen because I was a LIABILITY. They may as well as called me a leper; it for suresies hurt my feelings. They said that if I get really sick or something bad happens or if I DIE then they could get in trouble because I saw them for this long and basically did nothing to save me blahblahblahsies.

Anyway, so let me explain the question above so you don’t keep thinking WTF Brie that was like the most random thing ever! M said that I’m hanging from the edge of a cliff. She said she knows that there are a lot of sucktastic things going on in my life that I could use help processing and dealing with, but she said that there’s no sense in talking about them when I’m hanging on for dear life, she said that first she needs to rush to save me, and once I was on stable ground and my injuries were taken care of, then we could shoot the breeze. Made sense. Sucks, but makes sense.

I still think I’m kinda-sorta just fine, and I still find it ludicrous that everyone thinks I need to be hospitalized, but I HAVE to do this, because the alternatives are just not an option. I’m ready to do this, guys. Rah Rah Rah! Who’s the coolest of them all? It’s Brie! It’s Brie! (That’s me being a cheerleader for myself. I need cheer. Anyone else wanna join the squad? I’m holding auditions.)

The contract stipulations will include, but are not limited to
1) Using the tube nightly
2) Following the meal plan my D gives me
3) Gaining weight or else I’ll get blue-slipped and forced into the hospital
4) Having a nervous breakdown due to the stress of the aforementioned regulations

Yes, 'tis true. My T said that she was really close to blue-slipping me, but she’d give me a week to gain at least one pound. If you don’t know what blue-slipping means, you can Google it cuz I don’t want to ‘splain it. (And then once you know, you can weep on my behalf.)

Well, I better gosies. I have an appt with the radiology appt to get my intestines raped with a tube. Fun town!