So apparently I’ve been lied to all these years and am NOT bipolar. I am however extremely depressed and if tonight’s short session proves anything it’s that i really should be back in therapy. My appointment was at 4:45. I wish someone had told me this guy is the busiest guy in the office cause I didn’t even get the paperwork to fill out till 5:30. By 6:30 I was in the “other” waiting room where he keeps the standbys i guess.
He seems nice. I dunno. I never really got close with any of my therapists except one who was just like a cool friend who would let me cry on his couch. Before he even said anything after leading me in to his office my eyes began welling up (they are right now to be honest with you). Great. Now he knows I’m upset. He asks why I am there. “Depression, stress, diagnosed bipolar at 11, in and out of mental hospitals till 18, tried to kill myself about 4 times” the normal first conversation between Doctor and Patient.
He seemed kind of shocked I knew the routine but went on anyways. Asking about family history and what my home life is like. I told him about Jim’s parents and Jonas. I didn’t talk about his birth cause that would have just set me off but i got a lot off my chest… I think. Jim is driving so I had my mom take Jonas to the hospital with her (the nurses like to play with him) while we did our thing.
It was a short session. He asked me about feeling “on top of the world” to which i described feeling more like i was on the bottom clawing my way up but the dirt is muddy. He asked me about anger. I almost lied. I almost said I have no anger problem but the many holes in the walls (3 at this point) paint a different picture. “I… Have some anger issues…. Not as bad as they used to be… Punching places in the wall where I know I wont make a hole”. He seem surprised that there were holes in my walls but i managed to get out “4 years of pent up frustration”
“You are not bipolar, You are however very depressed and I think we should try you on Prozac again. I know you said it didn’t work before but this time it may, Keep on the tofranyl it’s good for pain. Come back in a month”. Armed with my brand spanking new RX for another useless drug that probably wont help (or will zombify me) I head over to the hospital so I can go home.
Unfortunately this county is short on nurses that want to work. Cause half of them are out. We had to wait for 30 minutes till “fuzzy” as my mom lovingly referred to came in. She then mentions she got me dinner, Mcdonald’s in the car but SCORE Ice coffee. Jonas is getting hungry and fussy so I take him out to the car where i enjoy a smoke on their “smoke free zone” territory.
Finally at 7:30 my mom limps her way to the car (yep her knee is hurt again, she sees surgeon tomorrow). We nearly avoid being pulled over (she drives like a drunk…. When she’s sober) for DUI and make it back. Of course I was expecting one of the neighbors to drop something off for me like they said they would but so far no sign of anyone having been here. Oh well, I guess things just don’t work out for me.
So now i guess I’ll sum it up. Have to take more pills, get better, get out of here, get my ass in gear, get going. Well at least that’s it for the week for me. Next week however I see my GP and the Neurosurgeon (who is in Rolla, 2 hours away). Yeah. That should be fun.