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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 1 of 1. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Racer on August 9, 2004, at 0:39:37
OK, so I'm still basically unmedicated, my life is -- well, about the same, although I gotta say my anger is keeping me from being particularly suicidal and I can pretty much convince myself that it might be better if I were medicated. The one drug I'm taking right now, Provigil, has been helping keep me calm enough to do *something* each day. That's great. Now just add anti-depressant and stir, right?
Not so fast. I'm dealing with a non-profit agency contracted by the county, right? Great folks. They had to change my last appointment, last minute of course -- although not nearly so bad as the last one, where the receptionist turned me away when I showed up for my appointment (don't ask -- just imagine my reaction, which led to four days on the sofa, drugged to sleep on Xanax for the duration) -- but when they rescheduled, they made the appointment for after I would run out of Provigil. I'd mentioned this, right? Not something I wanted to keep a secret from them, since they could fix it, right? I am, after all, smarter than that, right?
And, as if that little nugget of information wasn't expected to be enough for them, my husband called, too. In fact, he called and actually spoke with someone! Whoohoo! Not a case of telephone tag, as it was with me. He {ahem} emphasized that I would run out of this medication before the appointment. He {ahem} may have made something of a point of saying that that eventuality would be A Bad Thing. He may even have gone so far as to suggest that it would be a A Very, Very Bad Thing.
They swore they'd get a refill sent to the pharmacy before I ran out. OK. Not that there's much trust built up with them, but there is the chance that they will, actually, come through on this, right? Mind you, this is not only the county pharmacy we're talking about, it's the county *mental health* pharmacy. You know it's gotta be a rich source of venting material without any help whatsoever from any other agency, right? Picking up a prescription isn't exactly easy. First, there's the twenty minute wait -- *if* there's no one else there, *and* they got your prescription the day before, so that it's already been bottled up for you. (I won't even mention the part about the staff seeming to feel that they haven't really done their job if they haven't thoroughly demoralized you. Did I mention the time I was ranted at for "med-seeking behavior" because I *refused* a refill for Xanax because I didn't need it?) Then there are the limited hours they're open, etc.
I called yesterday. I figured, silly me, that they would have received the refill request on either Wednesday or Thursday, and everything would be -- well, as smooth as it ever is. So, Wednesday the clinic heard that I'd be running out of the meds before my appointment in several weeks. Saturday, no prescription sent over. I tried going without the Provigil, since I'd be running out anyway, which was a big mistake. So, I started taking my last four pills to fix that. There's no chance at getting anything done tomorrow, since Dr EyeCandy doesn't work on Mondays.
Now, it's not the running out of the meds that really has me bothered here. That, while really awful, is somehow more bearable than the thought of having to go back there again after yet another of these things happening. Can anyone tell me how I'm supposed to be helped by any of this? Can you tell me how I'm supposed to trust anything anyone there tells me? Can anyone just pet my hair and say, "my dear, no matter how well meaning they are, they are still wrong; and you are reasonable and justified in your distrust." (That's the worst part -- one of those wretched therapists was trying to "diagnose" me with all sorts of personality disorders for my inability to see that they were trying their best to help me. It took a very long time to realize that I really was seeing the situation clearly enough to recognize the problems, but by then it had all become a total nightmare. Even the doctor, whom I liked and basically trusted, feels like an adversary now. The thought of going back into his office is only slightly less terror producing than the thought of walking through the front door of the agency in the first place. Somewhere above nuclear annihilation, yet just barely below being forced to listen to a debate between Ross Perot and GWB.)
Sorry, but I did warn you...
This is the end of the thread.
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