UPDATE
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
7:25 PM
I'm venting again. I'll try to make it the last time tonight.
This has been one of those days when I keep thinking nothing else can go wrong -- except it does!
There's a small door-to-door bus that I take to most of my appointments. It came to get me today so I could go to the mental health clinic. After I had gotten on the wheelchair lift, and it started lifting up, all of a sudden it stopped. Then it wouldn't go either up or down, so it had to be pumped up by hand.
Once I got to the clinic, I got into the elevator so that I could go up to the third floor where the pharmacy is located. Someone was supposed to be in the elevator with me to push the buttons, which I could not reach. Just as the elevator doors opened, and I got inside, the person helping me went outside, which meant that I was stuck inside the elevator and unable to reach the floor buttons. I was stuck there until somebody on another floor called for the elevator.
I finally made it to the pharmacy and asked for my medicine. I had called in on Monday for refills on three medicines. At that time, I was told that if there was a problem, they would call me back within 15 minutes. I was there all afternoon and no one ever called. As a result, and as my luck would have it, I was told today that no more refills had been authorized. I became a bit angry, but somehow managed to retain my anger.
Then I had to go to a waiting room and wait for 45 minutes to see my therapist. When I went into her office and she got settled in her chair, she asked me what I wanted to talk about that day. That was the wrong question to ask me. Anger, I said somewhat loudly. She asked if I'd had a problem, and I told her about the incident at the pharmacy. Then I had to open my big mouth one more time. If they had known I didn't have any refills coming, how much effort would it have been for one of them to walk down the hall and see if the doctor would authorize more medicine? I asked. I added that I had even passed the doctor in the hallway on my way in. I wasn't making any friends today.
At the end of my session, I informed my therapist that I would not be able to return for three weeks. She did not like that. She said she was concerned about the possibility that I might kill myself before then. I said that was too bad. It was her problem not mine. She asked if I would call EMS (Emergency Medical Services) if I had a problem. I said no, I would just go ahead and kill myself.
We talked a bit longer, and I finally agreed that I would call for help if I began feeling suicidal. She looked at me for a while longer, and then said that she did not believe me, but she hoped that she was wrong. Tonight, I hope I told her the truth.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
7:25 PM
I'm venting again. I'll try to make it the last time tonight.
This has been one of those days when I keep thinking nothing else can go wrong -- except it does!
There's a small door-to-door bus that I take to most of my appointments. It came to get me today so I could go to the mental health clinic. After I had gotten on the wheelchair lift, and it started lifting up, all of a sudden it stopped. Then it wouldn't go either up or down, so it had to be pumped up by hand.
Once I got to the clinic, I got into the elevator so that I could go up to the third floor where the pharmacy is located. Someone was supposed to be in the elevator with me to push the buttons, which I could not reach. Just as the elevator doors opened, and I got inside, the person helping me went outside, which meant that I was stuck inside the elevator and unable to reach the floor buttons. I was stuck there until somebody on another floor called for the elevator.
I finally made it to the pharmacy and asked for my medicine. I had called in on Monday for refills on three medicines. At that time, I was told that if there was a problem, they would call me back within 15 minutes. I was there all afternoon and no one ever called. As a result, and as my luck would have it, I was told today that no more refills had been authorized. I became a bit angry, but somehow managed to retain my anger.
Then I had to go to a waiting room and wait for 45 minutes to see my therapist. When I went into her office and she got settled in her chair, she asked me what I wanted to talk about that day. That was the wrong question to ask me. Anger, I said somewhat loudly. She asked if I'd had a problem, and I told her about the incident at the pharmacy. Then I had to open my big mouth one more time. If they had known I didn't have any refills coming, how much effort would it have been for one of them to walk down the hall and see if the doctor would authorize more medicine? I asked. I added that I had even passed the doctor in the hallway on my way in. I wasn't making any friends today.
At the end of my session, I informed my therapist that I would not be able to return for three weeks. She did not like that. She said she was concerned about the possibility that I might kill myself before then. I said that was too bad. It was her problem not mine. She asked if I would call EMS (Emergency Medical Services) if I had a problem. I said no, I would just go ahead and kill myself.
We talked a bit longer, and I finally agreed that I would call for help if I began feeling suicidal. She looked at me for a while longer, and then said that she did not believe me, but she hoped that she was wrong. Tonight, I hope I told her the truth.
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