Doctor Day


Sitting in the waiting room of the hospital for my doctor apt.  I’m having a little trouble calming myself.  I was sitting at home at the  front door waiting to leave, to come here, aware of the passage of time.  How long ago was it that this all started.  How long and winding was the road to this waiting room.  How many dark places did I pass through to get here.  It makes me anxious.  My heart is pounding.   It’s just a dr apt. nothing more than that. Well its a doctor’s apt with a psychiatrist, in the mental health wing of the hospital. 😦  We will  assess my meds and carry on.  Sometimes I sit and think ” is this real… is this really happening to me?  Its made up in my head.”  I am imagining this.  I’m here under false pretense and using up OHIP money that is really needed for someone  else .  But here I am thinking Oh My seriously!  Sigh….. I guess this is shocking to me today cause this is admitting that it is real.  In my little world, in my little house, I can deny it.  Its other people’s issue not mine.  Why is this so hard to accept.  I can handle it when its someone else … I sat in a hallway at school for 20 min last week,  I talked a student down from a panic attack.  Its fear.  I guess maybe fear of the unknown and fear of the places I have been and where it could go.  At this very moment, this second, it is fear of the doctor I haven’t met yet that is 20 min late.

So there are a few of us sitting here, in the waiting room, all looking embarrassed, all staring at floor, no one meets anyone elses eyes,  all saying nothing, all frowning.  There is lots of noise – it is a hospital after all, but its quiet too, suspended time waiting.

********************************************************************

So the doctor comes out, calls my name from the door, 25 feet away.  My first gut response is “shhhhhhhhh! someone will here you.” Is that not the stupidest thing you ever heard?  So I go in,  I think, if there is a couch in there and she asks me to sit on it- or lay down and tell her about my childhood I am bolting.   She is nice, we talk for over two hours,  no couch no bolting.   We talk about my childhood, my marriage, friends, life, work, the dark times, the voices, the anorexia, other things I have inflected upon myself.   Then we stop. We stop, and she looks at me and says nothing.  I am thinking — I don’t know what I am thinking …. we stop and blink at each other.

The Dr says I am suffering from Major Depression.  She tells me there are two drug programs I need to consider, and she tells me that I am in denial and I need to start to group therapy to first accept what I have become, and to develop some more coping strategies.  She also wants me to see my Dr in 3 weeks for all her recommendations and to see her in three months.  Anymore episodes like in November I am to go to the hospital.

blink blink blink.

I leave – go shopping — spend money I don’t have — come home — look amazing from new cloths– feel like I want to cry- can’t cry dam drugs won’t let me.

She wasn’t that short or blunt but that is the short story.  So I guess it is true.  I really am suffering from mental illness.

I have been sitting here staring at the last sentence for the past 15 minutes I have no idea what else to say… so I will leave it here while I consider things.

till next time…………………

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