Thursday, October 20, 2011

Oh, Oh, Where'd You Go, Psychiatrist?

[Warning:  self-reflective diatribe ahead]

In looking back over previous posts, it occurs to me that way too many of my titles are in the form of a question.  Maybe I watch too much Jeopardy!, but I think the larger reason is that a lot of my posts are, indeed, questions.  When I teach Freshmen Composition, we learn that one way to "enter a conversation" about a specific topic is to raise questions about what has already been said in that conversation. For example, if you wanted to write a research paper on inane children's TV programs, you could say, "Experts believe that The Fresh Beat Band helps children learn about music and friendship.  But who are these experts?  And why isn't anyone beating them with a sock full of pennies?"
He he he -- guess someone else hates Twist too!

(Sorry, I hate The Fresh Beat Band.)

Anyhow, that's how I sort of view this blog:  an attempt to enter the conversation about mental health care and mental illness (and knitting) through question-raising and providing jumping off points for new conversations.  Of course, that's very ambitious, and I know that it takes a lot more than one loser posting random rants about Nick Jr. TV shows, but I'm trying.


ANYHOW, on to the real topic of this post.  I got a letter in the mail this week informing me that my psychiatrist -- the one it took me months to find and get an appointment with this past winter -- is leaving private practice to work at a local University.

Well, shit.

Good for her and all, but what the hell do I do now?  This winter, when I needed a doctor, I honestly asked anyone that would listen who I should go to for psychiatric care, and nobody (read:  NOBODY) had any good suggestions.  I've been through several therapists and psychiatrists already, and have heard various negative things about more doctors in the area. Let me say, pickings are slim.  For heaven's sake, my OB-GYN's office was calling me to recommend a psychiatrist for a patient a month ago.  That should speak volumes about the number of doctors in the area.

I went through a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to try to find a doctor this past winter, and now it seems I have to start the whole process over again.  Not only am I unhappy about it, I'm a little overwhelmed.  And pissed.  I know there is no benefit to being angry and upset, but I can't help it.  I'll get myself together and try to start making calls in the next day or two, but right now, I'm just going to let myself wallow in the injustice of it all.

Okay, that's a little dramatic -- how about if I just let myself rant?  Damn you, doctor!  Damn you, mental health care system!  Damn you, Dayton, Ohio!

I feel a little better now.  On with the show.

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