Chapter One
WHERE HE WAITS
To get there, you turn left off the highway and drive
down the road bordered on one side by pasture.
And then, a radio song or so later, you turn right
into the hospital's gated entrance, easing your car up
the slope that leads to the turreted place where he
waits. Safety screens cover all the windows. The stairs
are steep, and exit signs cast carmine shadows on the
concrete floors. Four flights you must travel, and then
down several serpentine corridors, before you finally
come to his office.
I had never been here before. I had never heard the
word Prozac before. It was 1988, the drug just released.
I was to be one of the first to take Prozac, and, even
though I didn't know this then, one of the first to stay
on it for the next ten years, experiencing what long-term
existence on this new medication is actually like.
The Prozac Doctor is a busy man. He sees thirty,
forty, sometimes fifty patients a day. He is handsome in
ways you don't expect your medicine man to be. He
has shining black hair and beautiful loafers made of
leather so fresh you can practically see the hide still
ripple with li ... read full excerpt from: Prozac Diary ebook
