13,063 Days Alive
3 New Diagnoses
2 Adjustments to Medication
1 Doctor Appointment
Today was… a train wreck. I didn’t finish anything that I wanted to at work, barely got to touch my calls. I’m so frustrated. The system kept going down today and it just killed my ability to get things done.
After work was a little easier, though still with its own challenges. Apparently I’m not Bipolar 1, I’m bipolar 2. I now need to redo all the goddamned research I did when I first got diagnosed. And then I still have to get a second opinion on the whole BPD thing. I don’t think I have Borderline Personality Disorder.
Peter, my meds psych doctor, wants me on a medication to help me sleep, as well as get on Adderall so I can focus at work without taking heart-palpitating levels of caffeine. He keeps forgetting that I have fibromyalgia. Like every time. Even though it’s in my chart. And I tried to talk to him about the whole bringing up God thing but it was more him making excuses that he was trying to help rather than him acknowledging that he made me uncomfortable.
I may need to find a new doctor. And maybe a therapist I can afford to see every other week or so. I can’t do the twice a week bullshit that Dr. Fyffe was wanting me to do. It’s just not financially feasible. I can’t afford $200 a month for therapy, and that is the least it could cost me.
I’m so frustrated. And angry. I feel like I’m not being listened to. And that the left hand doesn’t know what the right is doing. I just need better care, I think. And a more comprehensive approach to diagnosis.
Spock has been acting a little funny. A little lethargic and a bit more meowing than usual. But he’s still eating, drinking, using the litter box. But I still worry. I’m terrified I’m going to come home one day soon to a dead cat. I keep having nightmares about it. If he isn’t feeling better by the end of the week, I’ll take him to the vet.
Anyway, I’m exhausted, as I ever am. I’m going to go read for a bit.
Take your meds, folks.
Postmark Wonderland 