Saw My Psychiatrist

This was actually a couple weeks ago.  I just didn't get around to writing about it until now.

I decided to go for two reasons.  One, I was close to running out of my medication for anxiety, and I thought that would be a pretty bad situation.  I thought I was doing OK without my antidepressants and wasn't interested in getting back on them, but I was worried about dealing with the anxiety with no meds.  I haven't been taking my anxiety meds as often lately because I haven't had such severe anxiety, which is good, but I still didn't like the idea of being out of the meds altogether.

And two, I am on SSDI (Social Security Disability Insurance).  Social Security periodically reviews disability claims, to make sure a person is still disabled and unable to work.  They don't exactly do it on a schedule, so you don't know exactly when they will review yours, but you know they will at some point.  It had been a few years since they reviewed mine so I figured I had a review coming up at some point.  I figured that if my case was reviewed and I had to say I wasn't in treatment at all, no therapist, no psychiatrist, Social Security might question whether I am still disabled.  Beyond that, they ask for the name and address of your current treatment providers, and they can contact them to verify that you are still disabled.  I figured it might turn out bad for me if I didn't have a doctor that would confirm my disability if asked.

And it turns out I was wise to consider the fact that my disability claim might be reviewed soon, because right after that appointment, what do you think I got in the mail?  Paperwork from Social Security, including forms for me to fill out, regarding my review.  I was really relieved that I'd just seen my psychiatrist when I opened that envelope, let me tell you.

So anyway, I saw my psychiatrist.  I explained why it had been seven months since I'd seen him.  I told him how the emergency room doctor had stapled my arms with no anesthesia and no pain medication, and he looked all confused, and said, "But wasn't that painful?"  I said, "Yes!  Of course it was painful.  That's why I'm so upset about it."  At least he confirmed for me that the doctor should have used lidocaine and that yes, the procedure would have been painful.  I mean, I know it hurt, but when I complained to the director of the ER, she kept telling me staples aren't that painful.

Of course, my psychiatrist told me that I should not avoid seeking medical because of that one negative experience.  He made some goofy analogy about how everyone had different fingerprints so somehow that means not everyone will respond to me in the same way.  I understand that most health care professionals will not respond the way they did at that emergency room, but the problem is, they can respond that way.  He just didn't seem to get that part.  He started explaining my rights to me, including the right to refuse treatment, and I know what my rights are.  I also know that, when dealing with a patient that has been deemed mentally ill, health care professionals don't always respect their legal rights.

I am a writer by profession, I know how to research.  I did my research.  I spoke to not one, but two different attorneys.  What happened in that ER was wrong, it shouldn't have happened, but unfortunately it's not that unusual.  And what's worse, and scarier, is that there is no way to protect yourself to make sure it doesn't happen again.  The best you can do is hope you have better luck next time.

Seriously.  I mean, you can also have a psychiatrist you trust and hope he's not out of town when you have a crisis.  I had a psychiatrist I trust, but unfortunately, he had a death in the family and had to go out of town for a funeral at the time I had a crisis.  It's not like you can schedule your breakdown for a time your doctor will not be out of town.  It's not like he can schedule the deaths of family members to make sure he's available when I need him.

And you can have someone you trust go with you to the ER to help advocate for you.  I did that, too.  See how well that turned out for me?  I'm still angry that Mike wasn't more help, but I really don't think there is anything he could have done to change things.  It's just that I would feel better if he'd tried.  I wouldn't feel abandoned and betrayed by him.  But I don't think he could have done anything to prevent the doctor from stapling my arms without any pain medication. 

Maybe if you are rich, you could keep an attorney on retainer and have your attorney accompany you to the ER in a crisis.  Alas, I am not rich and my SSDI is not quite enough to cover that.

Anyway.  My psychiatrist talked me into trying Cymbalta.  Cymbalta is an antidepressant, but it's also used to help with chronic pain, including back pain.  That's how he convinced me to try it.  I decided I would give it a try and see if it helped my back.  And I think it is.  I don't know if I feel less depressed, but I am in less pain.  I think I feel less anxious, too.  Maybe that's just because I'm not in so much pain all the time.  I still have pain, it's just more tolerable now.

He also told me I looked stressed.  You think?  He said I should take a vacation.  Think I can get Medicare to pay for that?  I bet he'd write it on a prescription pad for me, if I asked him to.