associated in random thought

why the system doesn't work, or: how i spent my weekend.

when i lived in nashville, i saw a wonderful physician who went to my church. because i had no insurance, he was very gracious to see me for drastically reduced fees. (i, in turn, taught his daughter sunday school for awhile. heh.)

it was because of this amazing man that i was able to receive appropriate meds for my depression and anxiety. it was he who first suggested that i have type 2 bipolar (ie, all of the depression, and a wee bit of the mania).

i've been taking a steady dose of effexor xr for three years now, and it has done its job well, for the most part. however, the emotional toll of sitting bedside to a dying friend has thrown me a bit. the reserves i keep in place for pms and other fun grey days are used up. the panic attacks and overall existential dread have come back, and how!

my gp in austin does not feel she has the expertise to treat my depression, and so she will not adjust my meds. she has wanted me to see a psychiatrist for months now.

making an appointment with a psychiatrist in this town is unlike anything i've ever known, even with officially fantastic insurance. it goes a little something like this: you call the insurance, who have doctors employed to make assessments of what you need. they check in with their network of psychiatrists, and see how quickly they can fit you in. then, the insurance doctor calls you back with an appointment, and a phone number. your job is to call that number and confirm the appointment. only, when you talk to the actual psychiatrist's office, the receptionist tells you that psychiatrists do not allow insurance companies to make appointments, and that the appointment you were confirming is no longer available. however, there is an opening in two MONTHS. would that be convenient?

if you say, "no, that would not be convenient; i've rearranged my whole schedule for THIS particular appointment", the receptionist will tell you, "if you have an emergency, i suggest you call 911."

and. so. well. i had my second stay at a psychiatric hospital this past weekend, as a last resort. i really did not want to go. i simply needed to be under the careful treatment of a psychiatrist, and i could not get that help otherwise. the admitting doctor confirmed my decision, when she confessed, "if the system worked, i would definitely see you as an outpatient, and i would see you tomorrow. however, the system does not work, and there is no way i could possibly see you as an outpatient, unless you waited weeks."

after a weekend retreat in a bare room with puke green walls, and medieval locks on the windows, i checked myself out of the hospital, armed with a prescription for a higher dose of effexor, as well as two augmenting drugs. i'm taking a week's leave of absence from work in order to let the new meds make themselves at home in my brain. i'm trying to rest, trying not to worry about everything left undone.

of course, there is so much more left to be told of this story; stories of incompetent nurses and nicotine patches that didn't work. (smokers would rather commit suicide than willingly go to a nonsmoking psych hospital, i learned in "group".) stories of helen and vanessa sitting with me, even though i was drugged up and kept falling asleep.

i'm processing it all one moment at a time. the good news is this: i have a new therapist named melissa, whom i met yesterday, and already adore. when she asks hard questions and i can't look her in the eye, i can conveniently stare at the matching toe rings she sports on each foot. also, i was able to get an appointment with a psychiatrist who will be employed to make sure i don't have to go to the hospital (ever?) again.

for now, let my story be a lesson on how to make a fucked up system work for you.

pee ess: in the hospital, there are unlimited cartons of chocolate milk, all for you.
Posted by bananie at June 15, 2006 12:55 AM | TrackBack