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Extreme frustration with my doctor

Posted Apr 17 2012 12:00am
Friends, I am extremely frustrated with my doctor right now. I will call him by the pseudonym Dr. No Fun because that currently fits him quite accurately. Today, I stupidly blabbed too much to the doctor as I have an unfortunate habit of doing. Once, seven years ago when I was in the county psychiatric hospital for months, they used to ground me all the time and forbid me from going on the group outings to Dollar Tree because I would blab too much of the truth about my delusions and suicidal ideations to the nurse practitioner (she was unfortunately easy to talk to) every time I saw her. So this mental health tech who I highly suspect did not like me in the least and sadistically wanted me to die used to tell me that I should stop talking too much to the doctor, because if I didn't tell her so much I could go on the outings to the Dollar Store and the park (she wanted to have more time to paint her fingernails and talk on the phone without checking me every 15 minutes I feel quite sure). So, the sad moral of this story is that I never learned from that sadistic woman to lie to doctors like she suggested I do. I always, stupidly, thought that if I told them the truth it would be in my own best interest.

Well, sometimes the truth backfires. As in, when you are feeling extraordinarily happy and energetic and excited about life in general, and Dr.  No Fun says he's decreasing your Prozac. But this isn't totally my fault. It's mostly my mother's fault. I stupidly reported to Dr. No Fun ,"my mom thinks I'm a little hyper but she only thinks that because Prozac makes her manic and she thinks everyone is like her but I'm not the least bit manic and I never get manic so it's really not to a problem at all and I'm doing extremely well right now". Translation in Dr. No Fun's ears = patient is becoming hypomanic. Which is precisely what Dr. No Fun tried to tell patient. Patient was not having any of this, and proceeded to protest with great effort, summoning all number of reasons to her mind why she might seem a bit hyper such as that she is taking sublingual Vitamin B-12 at the recommendation of her rheumatologist (totally true) and drinking inordinate amounts of caffeine right now (also totally true). Dr. No Fun didn't listen to patient and proceeded to reverse his decision to decrease her injection of Risperdal Consta, choosing instead to keep her on it, and also choosing to decrease her Prozac. Because I also stupidly said my mom thought I was on too much Prozac (translation to Dr. No Fun's ears = patient's mom might file malpractice suit). WTF?

I am thoroughly pissed off right now. If I wasn't in a great mood perhaps I would go yell at someone like a manic person, but I am not manic. I am just happy and also thoroughly pissed off at the great injustice that has been dealt to me by Dr. No Fun. Why mess with progress??? I was thoroughly energetic and cleaned much of my apartment (albeit after my mom threatening that the cops were going to come and haul me off to the hospital once my case manager told them what my apartment looked like; my mom is the source of many of my problems as you can see), and I have been functioning extremely well on very little sleep! Why is this a problem???

I really don't understand this. I wish I could write a letter to Dr. No Fun and express my extreme disappointment in him right now. It would sound a lot like what I'm writing here. I have since this appointment called the doctor's assistant to ask if there might be a way Dr. No Fun would change his mind. She called back but didn't leave a message. Could this be a sign? Probably Dr. No Fun has no intention of changing his mind. I asked for two more weeks on 60 mgs of Prozac, and thought this sounded like a mighty reasonable compromise much like the Geneva Convention. Dr. No Fun's assistant's failure to leave me a message of any indication that he was agreeing to compromise is not a good sign for me.

What to do? Well, I hinted at Dr. No Fun about what I immediately thought of doing. Doctor shop! I said, rather stupidly (did I mention my inability to shut my mouth?) that "some people in this situation would find another doctor who would keep them on their Prozac especially if they were extraordinarily happy". Dr. No Fun frustratingly agreed that some people would do this and some of those people probably come to his office, but said something like, "That's why we have an honor system here". Honor system? I don't recall signing that form. I feel quite sure I didn't sign that form.

So what to do, friends? I will tell you what I want to do, and that is to tell Dr. No Fun to get lost. But the truly unfortunate thing is that he is a smart doctor who actually seems to know what he's doing most of the time, unlike some medical professionals I have met. If he didn't have a good reputation I would probably just get rid of him right now. He is unfortunately nice too, but just not nice enough to allow me some extra happiness.

He said this could get out of control, and I could become manic, blah blah. I don't buy it. I never get manic. Not since 2005 or perhaps even earlier. I never do. I don't see it as an issue that should be of concern on my horizon at all. I am more concerned with having extreme fun skipping down the hallways at work when no one is looking and jumping down the stairs at school (I did hurt my leg doing this though, darn) and dancing around whilst cleaning my apartment. THIS IS ENJOYABLE. Why should somebody who spent a large portion of her life being suicidal not be allowed to enjoy herself.

I did keep a few things to myself when speaking to Dr. No Fun. He asked me how much I slept lately. I did tell the truth that I slept for two hours last night and I'm not tired. I did not tell how much Melatonin I took to try to make myself sleep, because nobody would understand how hard it is for me to sleep like a normal human and why I require this amount of Melatonin with the possible exception of my rheumatologist who once told me it's impossible to overdose on Melatonin. Suffice it to say, I took a hell of a lot of Melatonin last night along with Ambien, and Klonopin, and Vistaril, like I do every night. And I didn't sleep. This is rather odd, I admit, but it is probably just a fluke that means nothing. Dr. No Fun of course had to make a Huge Freakin' Issue out of my sleeping two hours last night and turn it into some goddamn explanation for ruining my life.

I should, by all rights, have the ability to prescribe my own medications by now. Do you have any idea how much medical research I've done on Schizophrenia and Schizoaffective Disorder? More than many doctors! Okay, not more than Dr. No Fun, but more than many other doctors. I wish life was not so complicated.

In other news, I bought a fabulous pair of Clarkes shoes today! I went to the mall at 9:30 AM. Oddly, the stores aren't all open yet at 9:30 AM (how late do most people sleep?) and it did occur to me that I had no logical reason for going to the mall, but I went nonetheless, and quickly walked around looking at all sorts of things, then deciding "I will now buy shoes". I then bought shoes. This is rather unusual for a person who usually goes to six discount stores before picking out a pair of shoes. A process that ordinarily takes me a month took me all of 10 minutes today! Do you understand why that is a good thing? Obviously, you do. You are not idiots. I'm not sure what Dr. No Fun would say to this story but most likely he would not understand how great the experience was of buying these shoes without fretting too much about their stupid cost.

I tried to explain how extremely productive I have been lately to Dr. No Fun, but he didn't seem interested. So I will tell you. I interviewed my neighbor for a life history I had to write on her for one of my classes, and this was the third or fourth interview we did for this project. I then wrote her entire 15-typed paged life history in one night. I also did her whole family tree, of four generations of people I do not know whilst at work. I got up yesterday at 8 AM for no reason other than the inability to sleep and succeeded in FINALLY getting my oil changed, something that I hadn't done for the past month that it needed to be done because I was too busy SLEEPING ALL THE TIME WHEN NOT AT WORK. After I got my oil changed, I went to a thrift shop. Bought toys for my mother's dog. What did my mother have to say about that? "You're on too much Prozac". WTF? I bought toys for your damned dog, who I don't even like because dogs are disgusting. Show some freakin' appreciation. My mother also told me that I was "acting like a crazy person" when I went to her house. I replied that I do not appreciate such stigmatizing terms, thank you very much. I should have just told her to go to hell, considering she's plainly as mentally ill as I've ever been herself! She's been Bipolar my whole life! And no treatment has ever been fully effective for her! But call me crazy? Oh, ok, Einstein.

I'm starting to lose track of the purpose of this post. Anyway, so I've been extremely productive for me. Not compared to "normal" people or "most" people or "neurotypical" people, but for me, yes. And WHO DOESN'T WANT TO BE EXTREMELY PRODUCTIVE? Anyone? Who doesn't want to be HAPPY? For crying out loud.

Now perhaps you can understand why I am thoroughly pissed off at my doctor right now.

As I told him, I have looked up all the symptoms of mania online, and I do not have them! I do not have rapid speech. I do not have rapid thoughts. I do not laugh hysterically at all times (sometimes, yes, but that is normal for me), and I do not scream and yell and hit people. I have never been violent. I have never attacked a person. I am not psychotic. I am fully in reality. What is the problem here?

Yet, just because somewhere in that godforsaken DSM-V or IV-R or whichever it says that people who don't sleep enough are becoming manic, Dr. No Fun decides to ruin my productivity. He actually called it lowering my gas or something like that. Whatever. I reserve the right to be ticked off about this.

Not to mention that I signed up for a 6-week summer course on foreign policy that meets at 9 AM twice a week and there is NO WAY IN HELL I will ever manage that schedule if my Prozac is decreased. I will go back to sleeping until noon. I am not a drug seeker; I am just logical. Prozac also defeats my OCD! What more could you ask for?? I haven't been having the annoying obsessive thoughts hardly at all since Dr. No Fun put me on the dosage that he himself stated was the dosage used for OCD. It worked. I told him this. He didn't care. WTF?

I am annoyed.
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