Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Apr 24, 2009

Last evening, I went for my first visit with the LCSW about my potential Bariatric Surgery. To weed out those who are actually serious about wanting to change their lives with the procedures, this program requires several screening visits with the LCSW and several more with a Nutritionist.

Prior to a decision on whether or not you are acceptable to be operated on.

The LCSW was a man named Chris. He was pleasant and informative. He welcomed me warmly and then proceeded to plunk down a few folders worth of paperwork. And sharpened pencils.

Suddenly, I was transported back to grade school, sitting in a guidance counselor's office as they tried to dissect my defiant pre-teen brain with a series of purposefully vague questions on a standardized test.

The first test Chris handed me was a simple one. Only about 20 questions designed to determine my emotional state of mind.

Was I suicidal? Ummm, not at the moment. Bring my boss into the room and things could quickly disintegrate.

Did I like myself? Well, yes. Very much as a matter of fact. How about you?

Did I often feel sad? Not unless I overdosed on Animal Cops Houston on Animal Planet. Otherwise I am generally pissed off.



I guess I scored a big, fat A on that test because Chris said "I see your mood seems fine".

I was cruising along without a hitch. Feeling thinner by the moment and I think my Reflux had already been cured.

And then he pulled another sheath of stapled papers out of a file. With directions. And a verbal warning. I was to answer these questions VERY CAREFULLY.


The test was a variation of this.

A psychological assessment tool. About 175 questions to be answered by carefully penciling in the matching little circle.

I have taken many, many tests like this. Between a tentative diagnosis of Oppositional Defiant Disorder as a pre-teen to the battery of exams needed to diagnose Attention Deficit Disorder as a young adult-----I have taken them all. Sometimes more than once.

And I actually enjoy taking these types of tests. Usually.

Except when what you want to do with your life hinges on whether or not your responses are deemed appropriate. Then the stakes are a bit higher.

I sat and filled out the tiny circles. I puzzled over a few of the questions. Questions that seemed intentionally vague, possibly misleading, sometimes provocative. I finished quickly and was comfortably absorbed in my novel when Chris returned to the room.

He scanned the results page and quickly circled two of my responses. They had been purposely ridiculous questions intended to measure whether or not I was answering the test with any validity.

Again, I was a star student. I had answered those 2 perfectly. I was feeling confident.

Until I saw a look of puzzlement cross Chris' face. He was staring down at my results page and something was causing intense interest.

He looked up at me and said, as he circled the answer in pencil "Question 154. Um, you answered false to question 154. That is definitely an outlier. Less than 5 % of the population ever answer false to question 154. Especially those in the medical field. That is highly unusual". And he kept circling my answer for question 154.

I couldn't even remember what question 154 was, so I asked. It was apparently a question that insisted that I spent much of my time putting the needs of others before my own.

For me, that was patently untrue, so I answered the question honestly.

I don't know if Chris now thinks I am a complete narcissistic sociopath, or he is awed by my ability to back away from a pathological need for chronic caretaking.

Chris will have the results of my test next week when we meet and will detail a plan of action to assure the best outcome for me. If I passed. After the snafu with question 154, I'm not so certain.

If I had to, I would guess that there will be a round table of therapists and specialists to meet with me at my follow up appointment. Psychologists, psychiatrists, police officers, prison wardens, social workers, neurologists, interventionists, exorcists, Nurse Ratchett.

They will all shake their heads sadly at my answer to question 154. It will be oh-so-interesting.



I can't wait to see what happens when I meet the Nutritionist!

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