Friday, February 17, 2006

I need you to know
I'm not through the night
Some days I'm still fighting to walk towards the light...

My psychiatrist couldn't see me today; her son is sick. "Sick family member," the woman at the front desk told me, but as I've seen her and her kid several times (single mother, or so I've gathered through various intelligence reports) I'm guessing it's her son.

SO, although she came in for an 'emergency' appointment, she couldn't see me. Poor 'emergency' appointment. They called an ambulance for him. I hope his next 72 hours under observation in Caguya Medical Center's psych ward aren't too horrendous. He (yes, he..."We need to call an ambulance for him," my psychiatrist said to the woman at the front desk...maybe I should be a spy, as good as I am at gathering information in supposedly confidential settings) also taught me a valuable lesson. If you're going to kill yourself, don't tell anyone about it. Just do it, or don't, but don't talk about it or you're asking for a one-way ticket in a Bangs ambulance out of Gannett (and, most likely, an all-expense paid trip to the land of Medical Leave). Some night, in your room, when the moon is waning and you feel like you have to leave once and for all, just...go.

Saw the nurse practitioner instead. Useless. I sat for literally five minutes staring at my hands and not saying anything. Severe. Recurring. Major. Depression. And she asked me all the usual questions, and a few tears fell silently down my cheeks, and she said that she can't change my medication because Dr. M. won't authorize it, and I said "Awesome," and after we scheduled another appointment, I left. And beneath the crippling, paralyzing, staggering sadness a bit of anger struggled to the surface. And as I left the health center, I spit on the steps outside the front door (old Gypsy...sorry, Romani...cursing method, not that I necessarily believe in such things) and thought, vehemently, Fuck them all. Let them spend a day with me, in bed or curled up in the fetal position on the floor. Fuck them all severely and unremittingly, like this black mood has been doing to me.

2 comments:

Tsitsi said...

Hey soul sister! I think I know which Dr. M. and I've had similar frustrations! Thank you for the n.s. I think I messed up the other day (my 'open' door didn't quite lead to a sit down chat...next time it will). So we should talk about depression sometime, or talk around it or through it. Hold on. Tight. Weeping may endure for a time but joy comes in the morning...

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