I met my new PCP. I really like him. I had to correct him on a few things in my history but for the most part, he got things right. Unfortunately, he had no new news for me as to why my ankle hurts, which I didn’t expect him to. He has agreed to treat my pain and the best news is that I don’t have to see him every fricken month for a script. I can ask electronically and then pick it up, which is easier than mailing! We talked about my weight and he said the thing was portion control and making a few cuts to the diet. I told him I switch drinking mochas to having espresso with soy milk. He liked that idea. I told him my appetite varies with the depression. He was understanding. He didn’t go into a frenzy when I brought up my suicidal thoughts. He felt I was covered with a psychiatrist. He did ask if I ever overdosed on my medication and I said no. I will never do so. I didn’t have to give a reason as he was satisfied with that answer.
He gave me a tetanus shot because I was overdue for one, which was fine. He asked me if I wanted a flu shot and I said no. I don’t like them. The last one I was sick for two weeks and refused to go through that again. I am glad he didn’t want to do anything special about my pain like send me to a new doc or something. He does want me to look into CBT as a way to help with my depression and pain cycle. Dude doesn’t know me so I will let that pass. Even my psychiatrist was like it is not going to work for you. So I have that going for me. DBT might be the short term fix. We’ll see.
After the appointment, I headed over to my psychiatrist’s building and waited as I had an hour to kill. She sent me an email around 1 asking if I could see her at 4 because she was tied up at the dentist. I said sure. At this point, I still didn’t know if she wanted me to go in the hospital and I forgot two things I absolutely needed if I was going in tonight so I went home to get them. While I was home, I relaxed a bit and took a pain pill. I should have taken a trilafon but I fucking forgot. I got to use an app to remember to take it as I keep missing doses. I decided to pack a little overnight bag just in case my psych wanted me admitted. I packed some stuff and then left for the bus. It was fucking late and I was afraid I would be late for my appointment. I got there with ten minutes to spare.
She apologized for having to reschedule. I told her it was no problem. Seems she forgot what we talked about yesterday and the hospital was out of her mind. SCORE. We talked about the new PCP and she read his note while I was talking. By this point, I was getting edgy because I hadn’t eaten anything since 0900 and the waiting room got on my nerves. She is a child psychiatrist so the waiting room was full of kids. I was starting to feel paranoid and regretted not taking the trilafon when I was home.
I told her how anxious I was because I haven’t eaten and she apologized for keeping me out so late. I told her it was okay. I didn’t mind the delay. She asked what I felt because it didn’t appear to her that I was agitated. I explained how I felt and then got into describing how CBT isn’t going to work for me because there is no linear pattern to my pain. What causes it to hurt today, won’t cause it to hurt tomorrow. I didn’t bring up the hospital and she didn’t mention anything about the carryon bag I had with me. I wasn’t in the mood to be admitted. I just wanted to go home and put my feet up. I see her in two weeks and I got my trilafon order right. She gave me refills too, and I was happy. Now I just got to remember to take the suckers.
I got home to the Square and went to Chipotle. I wanted a burrito. It was quite messy and I got guacamole on my sweatshirt. I was starving and ate the whole thing. I made sure to clean my face and hands as best I could. Then I waited forever for the next bus. I stood because I didn’t feel like sitting. I knew either way I was going to hurt. My right Achilles started hurting while I was waiting. I went to the pharmacy to pick up my scripts. The trilafon wasn’t ready yet so I had to wait. My mother called me while I was waiting, wondering when I was going to come home. She made dinner for me but I told her I ate out. She got mad. Oh fucking well. She made spareribs, not my favorite meal. It can be her lunch tomorrow.