No, at the time it wasn't funny, though one of the things my wife laughed at
after the fact was what the doctor who first called must have thought when
she refused to believe he was talking about me and refused to pass on any
information about whom he could call in my family to let them know that "I"
was in dire straits. And even that's not very funny, if you think about it
from the doctor's perspective.
Here's an example of how crazy things could've gotten: As I was trying to
sort this all out, I was advised--I forget by whom and precisely why--to
call the hospital where the guy was first admitted as me and get hold of the
medical records. I guess so that I could prove a discrepancy between, say,
his height and weight, etc. and my own. Anyway, I called the hospital and
they told me to come down to take care of this. So I asked the person in the
records department, or whatever it is called, what kind of ID I would have
to show and how could I get a hold of this guy's admittance forms and all,
since he really wasn't me. She told me that since he'd been admitted under
my identity, they were, officially, for the time being anyway, my records
and so all I would have to show was my regular ID. (I think at this point
people were working under the assumption that this was identity theft and so
it made sense for me to try to get the records as a kind of evidence.)
Anyway, as she was telling me this, I asked her, "Wait a minute. As far as
you are concerned, I have been transferred to a psychiatric ward in the
Bronx. You don't know what he or I look like. How do I make sure that no one
assumes that I have somehow escaped from the ward?" It may been a far
fetched fear, but I wasn't taking any chances. The woman said, "I don't
know. You're right; let me ask my supervisor and I will get back to you." As
it happened, things started to get sorted out right after that, and so I
never had to find out how that would've worked. But, still, it was a
sobering thing to have to think about.
Richard
|