It was finally time after a month of waiting to see a psychiatrist and I didn’t know how to feel. I was no longer manic, rather depressed, not just sad but devasted at life. I wanted to know why this was happening to me, why I had no control over my body, I was numb. My head was spinning with questions rapidly that I couldn’t focus enough on one of them in order to remember to ask the doctor, I was helpless but I was going to him for help. It all then began
My first appointment was called an Evaluation, which last an hour. Never had I had just an appointment, needless to say the paperwork prior into entering his office was no catwalk either.
The first question was basic, one you’d ask to anyone any tims of day, “how are you doing?” seriously, you’re a psychiatrist asking me HAUD? Get out of here. Now I don’t remember my response but knowing how I was at that time it was just a shrug or grunt. In that hour I was given the basic knowledge of bipolar disorder, how it would affect me and what the best course of medication treatment would be. The more he spoke, the less I listened. I didn’t want to hear or accept that this was a part of me, something that I didn’t ask for to happen or any of it, then something I could relate to. He said it is just like maintaining an individuals diabetes, (my dad and two of my cousins are diabetic) so I know somewhat of what they go through to maintain their sugar, insulin levels. I then began to n listen, to care about what he was telling me.
After an hour of first despising my psychiatrist, then appreciating him for the time, I then left upset and crying. He prescribed me 7, SEVEN medications. What the hell?! And an appointment to return in 2 weeks! All I wanted to do was scream, and I did as soon as the door opened to exit the premises. Until next time, affectionately G.Merced, living and appreciating .