It’s that time of year, talked to my psychiatrist today. I’m at the point in my life I see him four times a year, on average for the past three. We don’t tinker alot with my loadout. You know what’s fun? Normally I’d be really paranoid talking about my loadout, but none of you know my actual name or anything about me, so I can go full bore.
[Addendum to security nuts. I know I can be traced by the truly determined. I write too much for that to be a particularly interesting task. Relative bulk is part of my strategy]
since few apart from me care about chemical names, we’ll refer to it by function;
1 anti depressant, we haven’t changed the dose or the medication in a year and a half
1 blood pressure med/sleep aid We actually adjusted this one today, downwards
2 antianxiety/antipsychotic/antidepressants, it’s been a little less than a year since we adjusted these
1 ADHD medication, I think we stopped adjusting this one four years ago. Fair point, it’s because I don’t believe better is possible without substituting a narcotic, which I’m not allowed to do (clinic policy I happen to like)
1 anti anxiety medication, it’s been about a year since we adjusted it.
So all of that was relatively low drama, apart from waking up before dawn to get to my appointment, they’re still a month out and difficult to get.
The thing that broke me, literally, was the pharmacy. I did a call in appointment, because I wanted to drink my coffee right up til the appointment started. I also don’t particularly enjoy getting weighed and having my blood pressure checked.
So after the appointment, I waited a few hours before driving over to the pharmacy to get my medications. More context; because of the whole scarce appointments thing, they wait to schedule me until I’m almost out. So today I ran out of meds AND got my new scripts. This might be preventable, I’m going to try and fix it. I had to go to the pharmacy today though, that or not sleep…. really not an option anymore.
I should have taken it as a bad sign when I couldn’t find a parking space. This has happened before, but more rarely. Because of the kind of day it was, and the time, it was packed. My clinic and pharmacy are located within a semi abandoned hospital complex. All the parking for the actual building I was going to was full. So I ended up being forced after four rotations of the lot to take some of the spillover in the abandoned section of the lot. I literally had to back my car under a crumbling concrete staircase.
At the time I was of the opinion “oh well, bad things happen, I’m going to try not to let it ruin my day.” I guess I should have tensed and prepared for conflict.
I got upstairs and the pharmacy lobby was relatively empty, about six other people, that’s a pretty small load. I checked in, and sat down to read my book and wait. I guess I didn’t look at the time, because the first 45 minutes were relatively fine and uneventful, though it did start to bother me when people that had checked in after me got their meds before me… that’s a little rude.
I finished the book I’ve been reading for the last three weeks. This was somewhat anticipated, I’ve been near the end for a few days. I started to shift to my next book, when this guy came in.
The guy looked relatively normal, for this building anyway. He gave no external indication he was painfully and unavoidably insane. Within a few minutes of him opening his mouth, I came to the conclusion this guy was as psychotic as people were allowed to be without being checked into treatment. A sane state would have this guy in residential care, the poor guy needed help.
He goes to the wrong window. I don’t know why that was what began to irk me, maybe because I’ve been going to this pharmacy for five years now, and I can follow the rules. But he starts to tell his whole life story to the pharmacist…. who was gently, persistently trying to tell him he was at the wrong window. Then he goes to the correct window and tells THEM his life story. Part of which I have committed to memory against my will.
His doctor had ordered a shot of antipsychotics, a very good idea in my book, he was manic and unaware of the spectacle he made of himself. He “didn’t like needles”, and wanted to get his medications in pill forms. Now I’m inferring here, but I think this guy was some variety of on illicit drugs. He probably wanted the pills so he could sell them, you can’t sell something shot into your arm. Maybe I’m wrong! My opinion of humanity is quite low these days.
So then he starts talking about religion, and THAT was the point that broke me. It’s a bit of a trigger, people talking about religion, especially when I’m somewhat vulnerable. I got up, went to the fill window and asked if my scripts were ready. I said that if they weren’t maybe they could text me when they were, because I had already been there an hour at this point.
The guy at the window went back to check. He said they were literally filling it as we spoke, so I waited. Finally, medication in hand I exitted.
I want to emphasize that I really thought I could pull it together still. I had to run a tool over to my parents, and they have work I should be doing on their house. They work during the day, so sometimes I come over and knock stuff out while they are working. I made it through five miles of hitting every red light before I broke, turned around and went home. At this point it took me at least an hour to calm down, after which I went for a relatively nice bike ride.
I reached the bargaining phase relatively quickly though, and I had a suggestion for next time they wanted to subject me to this much stress before giving me my medications. I think a xanex and a double dose of anti psychotic would make me pliable enough that even this guy couldn’t bother me. We don’t get xanex at our clinic, so I’d have to find an outside vendor.
my point is it is totally ridiculous that getting my medications which we already established are very boring and just part of my life should cause me this much stress. I think I deserve better…… clearly I don’t, but it’s a nice fantasy believing I do.