GREAT NEWS, EVERYONE!!
You have NO idea how amazing this is. I have had horrific luck with finding a good therapist. I made a list one time, and, since I started with my school counselor in 5th grade, I've seen something like 15 mental health professionals, 12 of those were therapists, not psychiatrists. A good chunk of the problem was that most everyone in Austin knew Dad either personally, or by reputation, and thus weren't actually objective (I had several blow me off as the abuse memories started surfacing as bits of my dreams, saying that the things were imagined. I'm sorry, but I bet you can't dream about how a gun feels pressed to your temple unless you've had it happen to you.) The others were just duds (either way Freudian - which drives me up a wall, because if I just talk forever, my way of thinking doesn't change: I don't need to be analyzed, just helped to see things differently... I already know what's wrong with me), or just plain weird (one woman gave me copies of writings of Timothy Leary. UM NO. With a double-helping of HELL NO.) Dr. B at the hospital IOP was the first person I really clicked with therapy-wise. It seems I need someone who: 1) talks back to me, 2) doesn't mind me cursing a blue streak, and 3) is okay with redirecting me to see things in a different perspective - without #3 I just stew in my little self-centered world and I make no progress.
The stats: Her name is Monica. Dr. Shah (my favorite psychiatrist EVER and the main reason I stick it out with the whole public health thing) loves her and sees her on a weekly basis, so he'll always be up to date on my therapeutic process as well as my meds, which is important to me since they go hand in hand. She's in her mid-30s, no nonsense, okay with me cussing, and will cuss back occasionally (which I like), is fully patient-oriented (she actually said "I don't really play by the rules" of HCHD as far as scheduling, etc.), has given me her two contact numbers - including her personal cell # - and her e-mail, "because stuff comes up at 2am and there are times when you need to talk about it," and has re-worked her schedule to fit me in during her lunch hours for the entire month of February so I can see her weekly. So awesome. Turns out she lives about 2 miles from me (which in Houston is practically right next door)... if only I could see her at her house, or the nearby Starbucks or something instead of having to drive downtown for that hour. OH! And she's specifically trained in childhood abuse/trauma. BIG PLUS. She's also going to use whatever treatment modality necessary for my situations (there are different ways to work on things like PTSD versus, say, OCD).
I really really like her. I feel comfortable talking to her. That's a HUGE thing in itself. I've found that I much prefer someone around my age and that I can relate to as more of a friend than as a mental health professional and patient.
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I realized I hadn't done my fasting blood draw to check my cholesterol level yet. So I fasted overnight and then all yesterday morning as I saw the new therapist. I hopped in the car and got to the clinic around 11am. By this time I was STARVING, and I don't do well with hypoglycemia. I walked to the lab area, and the receptionist had just put up the sign saying to check in at the minor emergency desk. I said, "can you go ahead and check me in before you go?" She looked at me like I had three heads and pointed to the sign. "It's just at the corner," she said. "I know, but if you're still logged in, can you check me in so I don't have to wait? I've been fasting and I'm getting light-headed from the low blood sugar." "It's just down at the corner." Then the security guard got all, "YOU NEED TO GO TO MINOR EMERGENCY TO CHECK IN" on my ass. My guard friend, Carlos, was nowhere to be found, so I sighed and grumbled my way down the hall to minor emergency.
I hate minor emergency because the receptionist there thinks she's all that. I told her I needed to sign in for the lab and handed her my cards (most of the clinic staff recognizes me at this point, so they don't routinely check for ID anymore, but this woman is one of those that feels the need to jam policy down your throat). She said I didn't have an appointment for the lab. "I didn't know I needed one." "Well, you do, and you don't have one. You'll need to come back." "I've already been fasting for TWELVE HOURS, and I don't have time the rest of the week." "Why are you fasting?" "Because the bloodwork ordered requires it." "Well, make an appointment to see your doctor and have him schedule you an appointment." "I just saw him last week, and it took me over a month just to get in and see him then, I can't really wait another month just to see him for three minutes so he can have his tech schedule an appointment for me to spend five minutes in the lab having 2 tubes of blood drawn." "Well, maybe you can go down the hall and see if you can talk to his nurse and have an appointment scheduled for you." "FINE."
I LOVE the receptionist for Dr. Hall, however. Lynn is so sweet and always is nice and chatty with me. She knows I know my stuff when it comes to medicine, and respects that, so when I asked to see one of the techs, she was totally, "Sure, no problem." I realized I needed Dr. H to also give me a scrip for two of my psych meds that would hold me until next Tues when I see Dr. Shah. Theresa, the tech (they insist on calling all of these people nurses, which is totally inaccurate and drives me bonkers. You're not a NURSE unless you have an RN/LVN. Anything else, and you're a tech) had no problem scheduling the new lab appointment. It was set for 11:10am. It was already 11:15 by my watch, so she suggested I hurry over there. As I was sitting waiting for Theresa to come back out to hand me my appointment slip, the receptionist from the lab sat down at the check-in desk for Dr. Hall. UM WHAT? I was NOT happy.
I trudged quickly (you'd think it impossible to do both at the same time, but I accomplished it) back over to minor emergency again. I handed my slip to the same "I'm better than you because I'm working" receptionist and said, "I'm here to check in again." "Please have a seat." "Um, but my appointment is right now." "Time doesn't really matter when it comes to the lab." (My brain went, "WHAT????? So did you fuck me around for nothing?") *gritted teeth* "How long will I have to wait, then?" "Well, there are three people ahead of you." (This meant that she is completely useless at quickly checking people in while they're standing there, and instead, makes them wait in the crowded, germ-infested, waiting room while she catches up.) I ended up waiting 15 minutes while people coughed and sneezed on me. If I get sick, I'm going to be very very pissed off. She finally said that I was cleared to head back down the hall. Once there, I waited while the phlebotomists worked through the tiny stack of slips in the basket. I got the tech I usually see. Again, no carding to check that I'm not cheating by having someone else do my bloodwork, because she recognized me. We always end up chatting. I really like her.
Finally, I had to make a stop at the pharmacy to get my thyroid meds finally filled, and have them loan me a few pills to get me through to Dr. Shah's appointment on Tuesday. Naturally, the wait for just seeing a pharmacy tech was about an hour. I needed to have Sis' car back by 2, and it was already 1. So I get to go back tomorrow. Joy.
Basically, I didn't get to eat for almost 13 hours. Emily was very very cranky by the time it was all said and done. I damn near throttled one woman. I found a therapist. I almost got run into by several people on the road. By 2pm I decided that I needed to wash my hands of the day, climbed into my pjs, and watched crap TV, knitted, read, and napped for the rest of the day. My icon sums up how I felt yesterday. Except, yesterday, I was yelling "MOTHERFUCK!" at just about everything.
OH! I set a lunch date with the new priest, Todd, at my church for tomorrow afternoon. I met him when I went on Sunday, and he seemed really interested in my life story. So we're meeting and talking more. He's so cute. It's such a shame he's married and has kids.
Tomorrow's going to be busy: I have to take Sis to her follow-up with her foot surgeon, then fly like the wind back home, and then downtown to the church to meet Todd. After that, I have to go back to the fucking clinic to get my meds. I will be living on Coffee tomorrow.