So I went and had my appointment with my Psychiatrist. I absolutely loathe the waiting room there! It’s a small room and as such, people are almost sitting on top of one another while they wait. Due to the fact that we don’t have an in-town Psychiatrist, he is only there certain days of the week and the rest of the week he’s at his home base as the head of the Department of Psychiatry at the hospital there. Needless to say that when he is here, he is in high demand and there is always a wait to see him.
So I’m in this crowded waiting room, trying desperately not to lose my shit when this chick and her boyfriend come bounding in, announcing that she is late for her appointment. She immediately sits directly beside me and starts typing on her phone (of course, she has the typing noise enabled) and having loud conversations with her boyfriend. All of a sudden, her phone rings loudly and she proceeds to have a louder phone call right next to my bloody ear. I was on the verge of snapping and punching her in the face when the Psychiatrist came out to call me in. (I think they bump me up when I’m in the room ’cause they know that I just can’t handle being around so many people with them SO close to me and the receptionist could see I was about to lose it).
Mr. Psychiatrist doesn’t want to add anything for anxiety at this point but he did double the dosage of Divalproex. I have to go in for my blood work in June and they will decide from there which direction we will take.
I’ll be down to a quarter of my dosage of Venlafaxine this weekend. I will be completely off of it in less than 3 more weeks. So far it hasn’t been too bad coming off of it aside from the brutal headaches daily. I will be so glad when that is all done with!
On another note: My counsellor.
I haven’t written much about her really aside from my initial dislike of the whole, “So how can I help you?” and that she booked me in to see the Psychiatrist. I’ve seen her several times since my initial meeting with her, we’ll call her A. Well, apart from my initial distrust of her and immediate dislike of her just because she was a female (sorry ladies, it’s nothing personal, take it up with my Mother) I have to say that I love this lady. Not in a relationship sort of way or even as a family member… I love her as a counsellor. For the first time, I think I may have “met my match”.
The first couple of appointments I pretty much sat in her office and grunted responses and stared out of her window, never meeting her gaze. She finally said to me, “I’m going to give you this booklet. I want you to take it home and read it. If you think it could be of any help to you, give me a call and book an appointment” and sent me on my way. I went home and read the “intro to CBT” booklet that she had provided me and sat and thought for a few hours. The stubborn part of me didn’t want to call her ’cause that’s just how I roll. The part of me that knew that I was in serious trouble and needed help put on her big girl panties and made the call.
By the time I made it in for my next appointment, I had made her a list that included: Things that will help me in therapy, things that will be an issue and cause difficulty in therapy, and then some random crap about me. I gave her the list and she thanked me for calling and making the appointment and said that she really didn’t know if she would ever hear from me again and was glad that I had called. One of the items on my list of things that will be an issue was that I don’t trust people in general and my distrust of females in particular (and why). I had written that I was expected to share personal information with someone that I knew nothing about and that hardly seemed fair. (Note: yes, I am perfectly aware of why there need to be boundaries within our relationship.)
So for the remainder of the session, we shared information about one another. I knew that she was apprehensive about sharing any of her personal family life with me and the fact that she did, made all of the difference in the world to me. I was a person, not just a patient, not just someone suffering from a mental illness, but a real person.
The next interaction I had with A. was over the phone. I had phoned to see if I could get my son in to see someone in the office as I didn’t think he was coping well with my diagnoses (perhaps I’ll write about this one day) and thought that he should have an outlet. A. returned my call within the hour. I know that she may have had the time free and that it could have been purely coincidental but the speed in which she returned my call also, made me feel like a person. I’m sure she could hear the concern in my voice and called me as soon as she was available to see how she could help.
There have been several events similar to the ones I have mentioned above. A. has always responded kindly, but it has never come across as feeling sorry for me and that’s a big deal. I’ve spent my life with people hearing bits and pieces about my upbringing and experiences who turn around and treat me like they would a toddler who has obtained a bump on the knee.
I actually care what A. thinks of me (which in itself is a big thing for me since I generally don’t give a fuck) and that will come in quite handy as we work towards getting me stabilized and working thru my extended list of issues and bad coping mechanisms.