Standing in support
Chanoch Daum took a pill given to him by psychiatrist. Even the Knesset channel appeared sexy
1
A week ago I had coffee with Dr. Ilan Rabinowitz, who is I believe one of Israel’s most successful psychiatrists. I wanted to convince him to become Israel’s version of Dr. Phil and launch a media career, which would be fun as well as important.
Since I am a hypochondriac when it comes to mental health, I made every effort during the meeting to impress him by trying to act cool and interesting. I wanted to be able to add the name of a doctor and psychiatrist to my list of acquaintances just in case.
Showing off my wisdom, after 20 minutes I told him that I could give him an accurate psychological profile of his personality. The doctor was up to the challenge and listened to what I had to say. Of course he claimed afterwards that most of what I had to say was transference, and most of the time I was really talking about myself. It’s a well-known way in which patients distract the focus away from themselves.
2
Afterwards, he analyzed me and scary how accurate it was. In five minutes he was able to sum me up; my personality, my anxieties and fears including the depression that I occasionally experience in the winter.
After I confirmed most of his diagnosis, after we ate a bit of quinoa (I wanted to impress him) he asked me gently about intimacy.
You mean sex. He said not necessarily but if I am already bringing it up, he is willing to listen.
Ah, I said, you know how it is with married couples; sex is like elections to the Knesset - exercising our democratic right once every four years.
Listen, said the doctor, since we’ve already been sitting here for two hours, let me help you. Take this and he pulled out a brown pill from his briefcase and this evening you’ll be a happy man. You’ll thank me afterwards.
3
Listen Dr., I said, I appreciate you wanting to help me but it’s also a little insulting. You know, I don’t need Viagra. I am 30 years old, for crying out loud; the plumbing is in great shape. I was just expressing a normal problem. We’ve been married for eight years and routine takes its toll on everyone.
Too bad you are arguing with me, replied the good doctor. You don’t need to have special problems in order to use this pill which isn’t Viagra by the way. This pill will make you feel like you are back in high school.
Well, I was in a boarding school and cried three hours every night, I told him, I am not interested in reliving that.
Put the pill in your bag, insisted the doctor, what have you got to lose?
I can assure you that I will never take that pill, and ran to the bathroom in order to swallow it with a huge gulp of water.
4
An hour later I called my wife Efrat. Don’t ask, I told her, something not so great has happened. I took a pill that improves, well, you know.
No I don’t know, she said.
Oh come on, you do so know. Like Viagra but something else. It’s called Cialis and they say it’s really hot abroad.
But you are not impotent, Efrat said.
True, I thought, but the doctor I met is also a psychiatrist. He said that it would be good for me. Something inside of me couldn’t resist the temptation. What do we do now? What if I get nauseous? What if I have a heart attack?
5
So why did you take the pill, asked Efrat.
I don’t know, I whined, maybe I wanted to please the doctor so he would be our friend. You know the value of a friend who is a psychiatrist? Do you get what an asset that it?
I prefer an auto mechanic for a friend, she said. The car is marking noises again.
And I have noises in my head. What needs to be dealt with first, in your opinion?
All right, Efrat replied, come home and we’ll try and take care of you. Things will be fine.
What fine, I said, how can things be fine? I am terrified the pill I took is going to make my butt bigger by mistake. I am terrified the pill will work too well and I will have to spend the rest of my life in a baggy pair of sweat pants, like some pimp. My employer will use the hyper arousal clause to fire me, and the porno industry will be the only place I will find a job.
And what if he gave me the wrong pill by mistake, let’s say one meant for elephants and I won’t make it through the door. I am shaking, Efrat, I keep looking with terror at my pants. Help me please.
6
Maybe it’s going to screw up my hormones? What if hair starts growing in my ears? What if I look like Eitan Orbach (swimmer and model) from the waist down but the rest of me looks like Fuad Ben Eliezer (government minister)? Maybe I’ll turn into one of those drugged and crazed lab mice that think the doctor’s gloves are sexual objects and start messing with them.
I never heard of mice acting like that, said Efrat.
No big deal, I thought, you will. Tonight you’ll have one like that at home.
7
I have no intention to share the details because modesty prevails. I can say that by six in the evening I was in a place where even Ahmadinejad’s sister would have looked as good as the sunrise.
Not since sixth grade, when I first saw copies of womens fashion magazines at the dentist office have I ever been so aroused. TV promos and commercials didn’t work so I put the television on the Israel C-span network from the Knesset for distraction.
8
I couldn’t watch. This pill is crazy, even MK Sofa Landver almost caused me a heart attack. In order to avoid an early death I went over to the children's' channel. When my son Yehuda asked me why I was hugging my blanket and chanting ‘Dora, Dora’, I changed channels again, this time to sports channel just as they were broadcasting a rerun of Ron Kaufman’s Press Box show. Even he was beginning to look good to me.
9
Two a.m. and the house is still. I’ve got to find some other uses for this dangling development; that is, if I want to continue a normal married life and I won’t go into details. Suffice to quote my wife who seriously wondered if I had grown another leg.
What I experienced that evening was unforgettable. The house gained a support pillar and we no longer need another clothesline for hanging winter blankets. And for Yehuda, who woke up in the middle of the night wondering why his father was wearing a skirt, I explained that the next day was the anniversary of the unification of Scotland with Great Britain and I wanted to mark it.
10
I sent an SMS to the doctor at 2 a.m. Even if I don’t have a problem, that pill is a hell of a solution.
Good God
When you think about it, young Mr. Daum, the only person who has a shred of evidence in the Benny Sela case is the mohel who circumcised him.
