My psychiatrist is a professional right? By not approving my prescription refill, her office understands that they are holding my health hostage until I seek her out for an appointment. This they must understand, I’d think. Is she aware that I have gone off my medication? I haven’t seen her for 8 months. Can she make that assumption? Probably. As my psychiatrist, is her office responsible for my continued health beyond her office? Probably not.
To me, her office is the gateway to maintaining the chemical makeup of my body. They collect the toll, look upon me a moment, and allow me to pass through for my supply of drugs. I am approved for consumption only temporarily. I’m allowed three refills, one month at a time. Perhaps the rules require us to meet frequently, to assess that my health hasn’t changed. Or to be sure the medication is working correctly? Or that I have not become chemically unstable, a threat to myself or those around me? A rule in place to protect me. Her job as the gatekeeper. This makes sense.
But wait, what about now? This situation I’m in today, where I am reluctant to cross the threshold of her gate, to pay the tolls, and continue treatment? Are the rules protecting me now, or are they protecting her, or are the rules protecting the integrity of the medication and the marketplace? I don’t understand it all, the landscape is much bigger, the market more complicated than my simple needs.
Can I assume that she is still protecting me? Is she still responsible for my health, or do the rules only address the last time I left her office? I’ve spoken with her receptionist twice in my time away. I deflected her request for an appointment with soft excuses and a promise to call back with a day and time. I must have accepted responsibility then, now I must be responsible for my mental health. I have not received a call from my psychiatrist, so she must accept my ability to shoulder this responsibility, or maybe she just isn’t required to care? I don’t know the rules.
But can I not just assume that she supports my decision? I mean, as an exercise of self empowerment, can I just believe that the system is in place to be efficient and protect us? I sought out and received care. I am trusted with the decision to continue care. I stopped taking my medication and I haven’t heard from my doctors, the pharmacy, or my insurance company. Why not trust their combined institutional power to do no harm and assume that I have received a roundabout bill of good health? I mean, you wouldn’t rationally expect a person with mental health problems to be the sole advocate for their own well being? That would be silly, since such a person can be so volatile. From this perspective, I can empower myself and smile, I must not be that kind of person. I don’t need their stewardship or their drugs.
I’m in class at University right now, it is Calculus II. We are studying Integrals, and the teacher explains Trigonometric Substitution to the class. I don’t understand any of it. I’m behind in my assignments for this and other classes. I took my midterms last week and scratched my head confused. I cannot concentrate and I distract myself. As an example, I’m writing instead of following the one being demonstrated on denominator factoring.
A fog has settled into my mind. Each day that filled last week, I tried to sit down with the concepts and challenges of my school work, but unfortunately I was emotionally overwhelmed by the task and found myself locked into an eddy of confusion and doubt. Self medication, drinking and marijuana help with some of the anxiety, but that shouldn’t continue. I AM responsible for my own health, so I admit this is not sustainable or helpful. Self medication is not ideal nor productive, I’d like to be healthier than an addict is, I’d like freedom from these vices. I must be my own master.
Midterms concerned me, and my inability to focus continues. I once took a lot of pride and accomplishment from my school work. Stress and feeling inadequate in class compounded last week. It feels like steam seeping from my seams, the pressure is building. I decided to seek help on campus. The Center for Student Health & Counseling has walk-in hours with which to meet a counselor for an assessment.
After checking in, I sat in the waiting room and waited to be called back for about an hour. I had a class to get to, so I walked back to the receptionist and asked to reschedule. Her system told her that I had already had my appointment, I had been called back and met with someone already. My confusion compound again, and I twisted my face. A woman stepped out from behind a threshold and offered an explanation.
It turned out that another man had taken my spot by responding when my name was called and had followed the counselor to her office. The woman admitted that she thought something had gone wrong since our information didn’t match, but allowed the man to continue. They both assured me that these things never happen and that I should come in for an assessment right then, rather than rescheduling. The counselor buzzed me into the clinic.
She asked if I have suicidal thoughts. Yes, my whole life. She asked if I would follow through with them. I wouldn’t, it’s an escapist fantasy rather than a practical plan. She was relieved. I let her know that I was off my medication and explained my situation. The words fell out, and I struggled to keep my heart from spilling too. She stopped me abruptly and asked if I wanted therapy or medication? I did not know, I don’t know, I think I just need to talk right now. She let me know that appointments can be made, but they are a month or two out. That let me down. Classes are over in a month, I wasn’t going to find relief here. She wrote an address on a torn piece of paper for a building downtown. She said that I might be able to get help there.
I left the clinic feeling that I wasted my time. But thinking of it again, I feel empowered. I am responsible for my own health. After describing my situation to a professional, she declined to take responsibility for my health. So I can assume the clinic didn’t find me to be a danger to myself or in need of a definite future action. Perhaps my problems are trivial in comparison to others?
The counselor and my psychiatrist trust me to advocate for myself, the clinic has not yet followed up. The system spat me back out and communicates that my decisions are acceptable, my thoughts reasonable, with the caveat that I should drink and smoke less drugs. Self medication outside the pharmacy is frowned upon.
Okay, I get that and agree.
As long as They are not concerned,
I shouldn’t be.
