So this is what a psyche eval looks like.
I sit in a waiting room. I’m given a form. I’m asked to rate how I feel. How often do I feel alone? Sad? Angry? Directionless? I put “never” down for all of them. Do I sleep well? Like the dead. Do I eat well? Like anyone is supposed to. Do I have friends? I hesitate before circling yes.
It goes on. And on. And on. It’s almost 100 questions. Do they hope I’ll get so tired that I’ll start being honest?
I turn the form in and wait. And wait. And finally, my name is called. I’m put in a chair. My doctor is a slim redhead who introduces herself only as “Vittoria.” I guess she thinks surnames are old fashioned.
She asks about the mission. I hesitate. I wonder how much I can get away with, before I talk:
“It was stressful.”
She looks at me with mild in