This afternoon, I had a meeting with my now-ex psychiatrist. That should give you a hint about how well it went.
On our last visit, in the context of an update on my life and what I'd been dealing with since we last met, I repeated something to her that my husband said to me in an argument. On that basis, she changed my meds from one I was doing really well on to one that made me want to throw myself under a bus. Literally. After a couple of days on the new medication, I was more than aware that all was not well and started attempting to speak to my doctor. Four days later, I finally got a response from her. At this point, I had already stopped taking the meds that made me want to crawl into a hole and stay there. She agreed to put me back on the meds I hadn't wanted to stop taking in the first place, but it took her almost a week to get the prescription to me.
Unmedicated me is not fun. Unmedicated me bounces off walls, is uncontrollably impulsive, and is physically out of control.
So by the time I got the prescription filled and my body started to level out, I had started to rehearse what I needed to say to her at the next appointment. I needed to go in calmly, reasonably, and find out where she stood on the whole mess. No blazing guns here.
Her stance? I need to manage my expectations. The mental health services I access are apparently not five days a week (unbeknownst to me) and she's busy. She told me before (did she buggery) that she's not always contactable. When I explained that I'm more than aware that I'm not her only patient, but that when she told me if I had an adverse reaction to the new medication to get in touch, that I had maybe expected quicker than a four day response time... she said if I was feeling suicidal I should have called a helpline. When I said that I now have trust issues, she quite matter of factly said that I was more than welcome to change doctors.
This was the time that she decided to take my blood pressure. Any guesses on whether it was high?
Now, my blood pressure has been high every time she's taken it in the last year. Why is that, you ask? Could it be because she takes it at the end of the appointment after she's made me talk about all the stuff I'm stressed and upset about? Surely not. She termed it "white coat syndrome", and the routine has been that she takes it, it's high. She writes a prescription for my medication with a direction to go to the GP surgery and use the blood pressure machine in the reception area. I'm then to email her with a picture of the results, which are always totally fine. Job done.
This time, though, this time is different. Magically, coincidentally different. She can't in good conscience write me a prescription when my blood pressure is high, despite the pictures on my phone of totally normal readings in the two weeks preceding this appointment. She had the gall to quote "first do no harm" at me, and to inform me that I must be confused, she would never issue prescriptions based on unverified blood pressure readings. I need a twenty four hour blood pressure monitor result before anyone can put me back on medication.
My appointment with the new psychiatrist? Just over a month from now. The amount of pills I have left? Six.
When I called the GP on Himself's suggestion that they might be able to help me, her response was "what do you want me to do about it?". Verbatim. I said I didn't know what else to do or who else to contact. She said she'll refer me for the blood pressure test, but it's a three to four week wait.
If I'd just sucked it up instead of saying I was unhappy with my treatment, I'd have a prescription for the next five weeks. I could have asked to be referred to another doctor after it was in my hot little hand. Instead, I was honest with her, and I've been left hanging with nobody to fight my corner. I'm meant to function without the medication that makes me feel human. I'm exhausted and feeling profoundly sorry for myself.
She Who Copes is not coping.
On our last visit, in the context of an update on my life and what I'd been dealing with since we last met, I repeated something to her that my husband said to me in an argument. On that basis, she changed my meds from one I was doing really well on to one that made me want to throw myself under a bus. Literally. After a couple of days on the new medication, I was more than aware that all was not well and started attempting to speak to my doctor. Four days later, I finally got a response from her. At this point, I had already stopped taking the meds that made me want to crawl into a hole and stay there. She agreed to put me back on the meds I hadn't wanted to stop taking in the first place, but it took her almost a week to get the prescription to me.
Unmedicated me is not fun. Unmedicated me bounces off walls, is uncontrollably impulsive, and is physically out of control.
So by the time I got the prescription filled and my body started to level out, I had started to rehearse what I needed to say to her at the next appointment. I needed to go in calmly, reasonably, and find out where she stood on the whole mess. No blazing guns here.
Her stance? I need to manage my expectations. The mental health services I access are apparently not five days a week (unbeknownst to me) and she's busy. She told me before (did she buggery) that she's not always contactable. When I explained that I'm more than aware that I'm not her only patient, but that when she told me if I had an adverse reaction to the new medication to get in touch, that I had maybe expected quicker than a four day response time... she said if I was feeling suicidal I should have called a helpline. When I said that I now have trust issues, she quite matter of factly said that I was more than welcome to change doctors.
This was the time that she decided to take my blood pressure. Any guesses on whether it was high?
Now, my blood pressure has been high every time she's taken it in the last year. Why is that, you ask? Could it be because she takes it at the end of the appointment after she's made me talk about all the stuff I'm stressed and upset about? Surely not. She termed it "white coat syndrome", and the routine has been that she takes it, it's high. She writes a prescription for my medication with a direction to go to the GP surgery and use the blood pressure machine in the reception area. I'm then to email her with a picture of the results, which are always totally fine. Job done.
This time, though, this time is different. Magically, coincidentally different. She can't in good conscience write me a prescription when my blood pressure is high, despite the pictures on my phone of totally normal readings in the two weeks preceding this appointment. She had the gall to quote "first do no harm" at me, and to inform me that I must be confused, she would never issue prescriptions based on unverified blood pressure readings. I need a twenty four hour blood pressure monitor result before anyone can put me back on medication.
My appointment with the new psychiatrist? Just over a month from now. The amount of pills I have left? Six.
When I called the GP on Himself's suggestion that they might be able to help me, her response was "what do you want me to do about it?". Verbatim. I said I didn't know what else to do or who else to contact. She said she'll refer me for the blood pressure test, but it's a three to four week wait.
If I'd just sucked it up instead of saying I was unhappy with my treatment, I'd have a prescription for the next five weeks. I could have asked to be referred to another doctor after it was in my hot little hand. Instead, I was honest with her, and I've been left hanging with nobody to fight my corner. I'm meant to function without the medication that makes me feel human. I'm exhausted and feeling profoundly sorry for myself.
She Who Copes is not coping.
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