Psychiatrists

The thing about doctors is I don’t like them very much. When I took medical leave at school I dropped all of my classes which meant I lost my insurance and my job. I already didn’t like how the doctors treated me like I’m stupid, but at least the mental health doctors treated me with respect. Now I have medicaid and it is even worse. My primary care doctor treats me like I never finished middle school, I’m not sure if that’s because of the people he’s used to dealing with or if he really just dislikes the medicaid system. I was in the ER for 6 hours last Sunday for what seems to be a basic infection. Urgent care sent me, 1 hour of my time was waiting for the lab work to be completed, 3 hours was waiting for a specialist to come see me. In the end there was no resolution, I was given a prescription for medication and was told to follow up. Ridiculous.

That is one example of many where it’s easy for me to assume I’m being slighted by doctors, which makes the event of finding a great doctor even better. Last January after all the hospital mess I had a great psychiatrist. The medicaid meant that I could not be seen by that doctor at the office I was attending, but I could see him at an office 45 minutes away from my home. A lot of people around me think it’s ridiculous to go so far for a 5-10 minute appointment, for a great psychiatrist I disagree. There was a girl in the next curtained area who had deliberately taken an overdose of something. Her sisters brought her in, but didn’t want to stay. Her mother got there and the girl was distraught over the fact that no one really wanted her around. It was a reminder to me why it’s worth a 45 minute drive one way to see a doctor that is respectful and great. When I saw my doctor yesterday he remembered who I was, grinned at my son, asked where my husband was, and gave me a new medication to look up. This doctor treats me with intelligence, he trusts me to be included in my own treatment. I don’t get handed instructions, my husband and I are allowed to be partners with my psychiatrist. He is the expert, he gives an expert opinion and we are allowed to have an open and honest discussion about our concerns and other alternatives.

These last 6-8 weeks have been really rough. I’ve had auditory and visual hallucinations, I have had paranoid thoughts of people plotting to get rid of me, there has been a serious depressive cloud hanging over me regarding a lack of friends. I feel as though no one wants me around. I’ve had friends asking about how I care for my son and it feels judgey and cruel. I constantly feel the need to defend how I treat my son. Terry’s aunt hasn’t said a word to me since she posted about my son being at risk for SIDS on my Facebook. I shouldn’t care about any of that, my son is happy, healthy, and growing. His doctor (who has really crummy bedside manner) is brilliant and says he is right on track for his age. Honestly, the comment about SIDS risk frightened me so much that I called my best friend nearly in tears. I love my best friend because she reminded me that my son is my son and my husband and I know what is best for our family. Now if I could just remember that when I feel like we aren’t clipping my son’s fingernails often enough or my son is going to die because I allow him to sleep in his boppy for 30 minutes while I clean our bedroom. It would be even better if I could remember that people love me, even if they aren’t nearby and no one is plotting to put me in the hospital, simply to get rid of me.

I see my psychiatrist again in two weeks and I will soon be in with a therapist. My fingers are crossed for feeling better soon. Time to research some new treatment options my psychiatrist recommended yesterday.

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