One Week Ago

I’ve been debating if I wanted to post this publicly and after some thought I decided I would post it.  My reasoning is it may help someone who may be reading this, but I’m sure this blog doesn’t get many visitors.

Three weeks ago I was “looking forward” to my first visit with my new psychiatrist.  I was sorely disappointed.  It put me in a very low mood.  The doctor didn’t want to believe my medical records dealing with my mental health treatments and refused to put me on medications, saying he didn’t have a diagnosis for me and that unnecessary medications can cause side effects.  He told me to return in two weeks.  I left furious.  Silently suffering, more so than I’d ever be willing to admit.  I do not like thinking five steps ahead of myself.

My therapist was crucial in assisting me with getting a follow-up more quickly.  I went back last week at a time when my therapist was on his lunch break.  He called me during my appointment and I put him on speaker phone so he could communicate with the doctor about my history.  The doctor proceeded to YELL at my therapist about how he disagrees with his diagnosis.  I felt extremely uncomfortable.  I was looking at the door asking myself, “Should I walk out that door?”  I started to cry because I realized my doctor is another one of those unprofessional pieces of crap who shouldn’t be in the profession because he’s not helping me.  The doctor told me he was done talking to my therapist, shoved my phone into my lap, and shook his head.  I hung up the call, texted my therapist, “He’s not going to talk to you.”  I got an incoming text from my therapist which was the usual thing I have come to expect from him when stuff doesn’t happen the way it’s “supposed” to.

Meanwhile, I’m still in tears, my doctor asks me why I’m crying and how I’m feeling.  “Sad, low energy, tired and fatigued.” He’s looking for rapid cycling, which I don’t have.  During the consultation, he asked me for specific examples of things I’ve done while manic.  There have been a few I can recount since 2007, the last being in 2016 which should be proof that my past treatment plan was working.  But no, this doctor was trying to tell me my behavior was rational based upon what I told him.

Your boyfriend broke up with you?  It’s normal to be angry and drive 8 hours (one way) to find his car and slash his tires.  (I did not do this, but it was my intent.  Somewhere along the way I realized it was a stupid, stupid thing to do.)  The doctor explained to me that those in manic states are unable to control their impulses, so this one didn’t count.  Quit your job on the spot because of a small disagreement with your manager?  Normal.  No.  No.  No.  Quitting that job is probably one of the top five things I regret doing in my life.  I love-hated-loved that job.  You had a disagreement with your spouse?  It’s normal to pack up all your stuff and leave them.  Twice.  Uh huh, right.

I’m so happy I can see through this doctor’s bull.  As he’s saying these things, I feel like I’m being dismissed.  I AM BEING DISMISSED.  Oh, and when I walked out the door, he asks, “The acne on your face, is that a result of any medication you’re taking?”  No, it’s not, and THANK YOU FOR POINTING THAT OUT WHEN YOU KNOW I AM WORKING ON MY SELF-IMAGE ISSUES, ASSHOLE.

The doctor prescribed my two medications, gave one-third normal dose of one, but I feel much better.  My only issue now is that I can’t sleep and I would rather not take my Robaxin to achieve a great night of sleep when a better alternative, Trazodone, is available to me, yet the doctor refuses to prescribe me.  Sunday night I took my last Trazodone and I slept great.  Monday night I took a Robaxin and I could sleep but the quality wasn’t as great.  Last night I didn’t take anything and let’s just say I feel like I won’t be doing much today.

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