Monday, April 26, 2010


About a month ago out of sheer desperation
I went to a psychiatrist here in town.
He asked all the right questions.
I told him my life story.
He listened.
I cried.
He prescribed some meds and sent me on my merry way.
Unfortunately, I had severe side effects.
So he gave me some different meds to try.
They worked ok.
But just ok.
When I was awake I could function.
That was some improvement.
But I was still depressed and sleeping all the time.
So, he told me to stop my meds altogether.
Great idea!
Let's go back to the beginning and start over!
Why didn't I think of that?
So I found a new psychiatrist.
I went all the way to Ogden.
In the snowy, slushy, rainy mess.
It was a scary drive.
But not as scary as the clinic.
I was sitting in the waiting room and
a young man sitting across from me proceeded to tell me
all about every bone he's ever broken and how he did it.
Like I was his best friend or something.
Now, anyone who knows me, knows how squeamish I am.
I was trying to be polite.
Mostly because it's my nature.
Also because I was afraid what ignoring him might invoke.
Whilst trying not to puke at the visuals he was producing
with each bone-breaking gory story,
Pat walked in.
You know.
From the 1994 "It's Pat" SNL skit?
But with piercings protruding from any and all visible orifices.
And probably the one's not visible.
An uneasy feeling washed over me.
I was alone in the waiting room with these two.
The little voice in my head asked me
"What are you doing here?"
You can imagine my relief when my doctor called my name.
Except when I looked up for a second
I wasn't sure if he was my doctor or another patient.
He looked like Lex Luthor from Smallville.
So we went into his office and sat.
He asked all the right questions.
I told him my life story.
He listened.
I didn't cry.
I told him I just wanted to function and feel normal again.
He asked me to define normal.
I thought about the adrenalin junky and Emo Pat in the waiting room.
I laughed.
He was nice.
He empathized.
He seemed truly concerned.
He looked at me like he was wondering what I was doing there.
We discussed some medication options.
I agreed to anything that would help.
Help me get out of bed and do something.
Something other than cry or sleep or just barely exist.
He unlocked the door to his office.
Yes, we had been locked in.
Not sure if I should be worried or feel protected at this point.
He unlocked another door and disappeared into a room.
A few seconds later he appeared with some samples of the
medication we agreed upon.
He told me to call him if it wasn't right for me.
And we would try something else.
He said that patients either love it or hate it.
4 days later and I'm feeling great.
Hell, I'll go as far to say that I'm feeling giddy.
My kids can't believe this is their mom.
I'm fun.
I'm smiling.
I'm laughing.
I'm playing.
I'm me.
The me I haven't seen in so long I don't recognize myself.
I hope I stay me.
I didn't like that other person so much.
She was crazy.


Hess Family said...

Yeah! I am so glad that the doc's have hopefully figured out what is going to help you get better. I am so happy and hope things continue to go up for you from here on out!

The Dave said...

I atually cried a bit here.. stupid dust.. It is good to see you back again..

karole said...

I loved that cute Nancie sparkle in your eyes today!

jess said...

ahhh life sucks, doesn't it? the haze seems to be clearing....