I hate doctors. Not personally, not as human beings, just in general. I hate calling to make an appointment. I hate to go. I hate to be there and in most cases, I'm annoyed when I leave. And that's even before the bill arrives in my mailbox.
Today was double whammy doctor day. If you recall past musings, I have this rash. It's reached the point of covering the bottoms of both of my feet and itches like hell so I finally made an appt with my friendly NP. I rather like her - for a medical type person. She asked pertinent questions, looked at the bumps on my forearm and then got out her magnifying thing and looked at my feet. Contact dermatitis. My sister had already assumed that, as had I due to the whole laundry detergent change thing. Now it's confirmed, mostly. So I have a nifty new cream to put on that's supposed to effect some improvement in 3-5 days. I'm hoping it does cuz it's getting pretty irritating, no pun intended.
That having gone fairly well, I went to lunch with a friend while waiting until the second appt. This one with my shrink. It's not that I don't like my shrink. She seems to be a lovely person and we've had some interesting chats about Hinduism; by all accounts she's a Hindu, however she doesn't seem to listen very well. Or maybe she thinks I'm a pain in the ass or full of shit; I'm not sure, and frankly, it doesn't matter. I pay her, she writes scripts, that's about it.
My drugs aren't working very well lately. That may be the drugs or the weather or my particularly bizarre metabolism and brain chemistry but regardless, they aren't working very well. So I went in, chatted about what might be done about that and she put me on a drug I've been on before. Twice. It didn't work then. So....hmm.... Now her logic isn't all bad. It did work for a while the first time I was on it way back in the stone age of my psychiatric experiences. It worked for about 6 months. Then it didn't. She put me on it a year ago thinking since it HAD worked briefly at one time, maybe it would again. Some miraculous change in my chemistry had perhaps taken place in the interim. I dunno what the hell she was thinking but it didn't work so we moved on to other fascinating examples of pharmacology.
So now I'm supposed to go back on this one. Theoretically, it'll work now because I'm on something else as well. I get that logic but still...is something that doesn't work supposed to work just because I'm taking something else that isn't working? Obviously, psychiatry is not an exact science.
She tends to do the shrink equivalent of rolling her eyes at me when we talk about meds. Been on this one; been on that one; this one made me comatose; that one made me barf for three months; this other one made me want to climb a tall building with a high powered rifle. This next one made me gain 60 lbs and yet another one dilated one of my eyes for a couple of months so I got to sit in a darkened living room with sunglasses on until it righted itself. All the fun stuff that accompanies the introduction of psychotropic drugs into my bloodstream.
In order to get more bang for my buck, I like to cover multiple things while at the doctor, any doctor, so while there, I asked her about memory loss and the medication my husband is taking. Now I know it can cause memory loss because I've read about it and confirmed it with my sister who knows such things. So the stuff can cause memory loss and it's really not that uncommon for it to do so. Since my husband can't seem to remember things I've told him only hours or a day before, I asked her about it. In the most benign way. Like, "Can such and such cause memory loss?" She said, "Yes, it can but doesn't normally," so I told her hubby can't remember anything and she said, "he drinks wine", to which I responded, "yes, he does". She decided he can't remember a fucking thing because he drinks wine. I couldn't think of anything to say to that because although I know excessive drinking can lead to blackouts and memory loss, in addition to alcoholic psychosis and other lovely things, he doesn't drink 4 bottles of wine a day and his memory was fine until a few months ago. He actually imbibes less on the medication than he did before he went on it so why can't he remember anything all of a sudden?
I'm sure someone will pipe up and say that it's because the effects of alcohol can be cumulative, which we all know since it trashes your liver over time, but...but...I'm still not buying it. If drinking wine causes a person to lose their memory, why aren't the vast majority of Europeans walking around looking for their car keys and forgetting where they live? How does anyone get anything done? Does everyone have a pocket tape recorder that they glue to their foreheads so once they've recorded what they need to remember, they'll remember they recorded it when they look in the mirror and find it attached to their faces?
And here's another thing while I'm at it. I quit working about 9 years ago. It wasn't something I wanted to do but employers tend to frown on their employees bursting into tears for no reason, so I quit. I went on disability because my docs and social security all decided I was disabled enough to not be able to hold a "real" job. Why doesn't my current shrink get this? She keeps thinking she's going to "fix" me. It'd be cool if she could/did but I'm not holding my breath. I've been down that road. So today after all the rigamarole, she asked if I've gotten a job yet. Um...NO. And let me say, NO GODDAMN IT. And thanks so much for making me feel like a total useless loser piece of shit right after I told you I feel like shit and the drugs aren't working. This time I'm sending her a fucking bill.