That's an old Matthew Good Band song called Alabama Motel Room. Welcome to my mind. It has just been taken apart by a doctor that won't hear what I'm telling him. He claims everything is due to the BPD. We talked of my fear of adverse drug reactions which I've endured horrid ones in the past. That too, he managed to tell me, was because of the Borderline Personality Disorder. He asserts that because of my fear of lack of control over the meds and experiencing side effects that I've worked myself up so far into having hallucinations. So sure, he'll give me the smaller dose of the new med to placate the crazy girl. He said he'll put money on the fact that I have a problem because I believe I will. I handed it back to him. He gave it back with a condescending comment.
I'm not going to go into any more but let me just say a few things. Any reaction I've had is real - even to antibiotics. My mother began experiencing peculiar and severe reactions in her early thirties and passed that on to me. I have tried many meds, some worked, some didn't but two almost had me hospitalized... pardon me for giving a shit about the hell that may come to me in the form of a pretty colored capsule. Second, fuck you for insinuating that I willed it to happen. Third, do not talk over me and treat me like one of your over-medicated low functioning patients that lives 50% of their days shuffling in the psych ward. I am not that person. Treat me like I understand you, because you know I do. Perhaps that is one of the things you don't like.
I came to you for help and you have managed to tear down the small connections I built. You took away my entire history, making it seem that everything is the BPD. There is no 'me' anymore - I was all a fabrication. Nothing is real. And you tell me meds won't help me anyway. It's all a personality issue. You forget that I DO have a history, all the bipolar and suicide. You just took me apart and left me there. If I was ever anything at all. You want me to follow you like part of your flock. Saying it's all part of being able to follow directions. Again, fuck you. It's about open dialogue with your patient and trying to treat someone, not belittle and strongarm them.
I might just get off all meds. As long as I have enough time to get my shit in order, I don't care what happens to me. Not anymore. I can't make this my life.
You know doc, I had hopes for this. For me. For improving my life which is what I was seeking for years. But you found me to be a plaything. Something to wind; watch me spin. I care far less now than I did before thanks to your careful guidance. I am parts, but not whole. You told me I never was. But don't fucking underestimate me. So help me god you son of a bitch, if I go out, I am taking you with me in any way possible.
~
Add on: Because 'stubborn' runs through my blood in a ratio that overtakes even red blood cells, I will get through this. I just need to say that this guy did some damage when I was at an extremely vulnerable point. I've pulled inside myself because I can't trust what I thought or what the doc thinks. As long as I stay inside for a while, I'll be back to normal life telling some idiot or another to fuck off. For now, I feel wounded, lost, betrayed, confused, angry; you name it. Fragile. Broken. But as long as I fight it, I'll be ok. I just have to recognize that it is ok to let myself feel this for now; to not fight for a moment. It will remind me what to be wary of in the future.
6 comments:
hello twin.
i fuckin hate drs who think they automatically know everything about someone after i visit...
be glad u arent fat or they would tell you all your problems stem from being too fat....lol
Jen - It's good to have twins. ;) Oh, and yeah - I'm fat enough for him to have brought it up... I have a prescribed knee unloader brace to wear to delay knee replacement surgery. You can guess where that led - perhaps I willed my cartilage to disappear? He asked me if my doc suggested losing weight to help. My response was 'it won't bring cartilage back'. I wanted to say, yeah, about 210# with black hair, Lebanese decent, psychiatrist. I hope that bastard gets a flat tire on crack alley.
i don't know anything at all about the treatment of BPD, so can't offer much- what i would offer is to urge you to find a doctor who has a more holistic approach (the 'holistic' word is becoming a cliche, I know but there are doctors around who care). If you are genuinely afraid of the side effects of some drugs, that is a valid concern and something your doctor should be addressing with, if nothing else, compassion. Fire him and find someone else.
TPFKaLuke - I think it's safe to say he's fired. Unless I decide to get an appointment just to go in and piss on his desk or something. It's time for me to come up with a checklist for these docs. #1, are you a sadist? #2, are you going to induce a breakdown? Well, just starter questions and all, but I need to know if someone is going to discount me as a human. Of course it is more time and money and effort. Right now I want to hide but for sure, he's fired. And yay - I get to see him at work. Vomit.
It seems to me that finding a doc that is a good 'fit' is something that takes a while.
It's not just a case of handing out medication, it's about working with you as a whole. Hang in there - you will find the right one.
But hey, at least you got a diagnosis out of your brief relationship with this one - that's a step forward, isn't it?
(Geez, maybe things do happen for a reason...!)
I hope you feel better
xxx
Terri - That is theonly positive thing I can think of. About the diagnosis. Unfortunately he had me teetering on the edge of begging to be committed in order to get there. Fuck him. He's an awful man. There is no way ANY doc should treat ANY patient like that. First step, listen. BZZZT, epic fail. And we move along...
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