i liked Dr Cox, a consultant at College Keep. He genuinely took as much time as I needed, to get yet another Bipolarish diagnosis. This time, it was even more complicated that those I have had in the past. A rapidly changing illness, exacerbated by my current situation, creating yet another and another long winded, latin based word to learn. In future, I'll just say I have a headache!
I was skeptical of the medication prescribed, as I always have been, with each little tit bit thrown my way, when they feel I have stuck my head in an ice bucket, just that one too many times. I haven't got a great track record with meds anyway. As I know now, time has been the biggest factor, in getting the pills wrong. In the past, no one had the time to make the correct diagnosis and subsequently, correct box of life controllers. In the beginning, I was changing tablets, like rabbits have bunny's. I literally had no idea, if I was coming or going. It frequently got to mental torture stage, relatively quickly. It was almost as if the Doctors enjoyed it!
I actually quite like College Keep. It's only downfall is it looks like a hospice in parts and there are too many doors, yes, loads of doors, for mental patients to get lost through. A maze of madness, once you get through the barred doors and security guard, who you really don't want to mess with. Pepper spray and a tazer, isn't something I am partial too, especially not again! Once one, actually gets into the body of the building, it's all rather softly, softly, a smell of lavender and bleached floors. I've slipped on those before, but it passes the time quicker and adds to the excitement of the visit!
I did read once, that there is a psychology behind the way these clinics are laid out, to make the likes of me, feel at ease, slightly patronized and assumes mad people only like beige and grey colours. Calming and less confusing, for those with troubled minds. To be honest, all it makes me feel, is a sense of depression and lack of ability, to even bother saying anything mildly off the wall, that may get one incarcerated again.
I usually have a woman psychotherapist as a rule, so imagine my surprise, when Dr Cox turns out to be a bloke. Not sexy in any shape or form, but a bit matey, a bit chunky and a bit of a devil me thinks. Playing with my mind and that, making him self out to be a jolly good chap. In short Dr Cox had a great personality, communicated well and for once did not tell me what I wanted to hear, but rather what he believed to be true, after a total grilling. The good Doctor listened intently for what must have been at least an hour and a half. He looked interested, drew a picture and came up with conclusions, I had never heard before.
Lets stick with Bipolar, with out the add on's, which are less attractive and only served to make me a little bit scared and needy. When I have thoroughly researched the bloody full implications, I shall of course make it public, like the rest of my life. At least that way no one can tell any lies about me, because the truth is far worse.
Anyway, he broke the news as gently as he could to me. Actually, he didn't, he was quite brutal and just added to the confusion and muddle, already in my shell like. I politely asked him to write down the long words, that even I hadn't heard of, down on a pink post it note, so I could stick it to my head to remind me and the World, what stigma I have now. I wish I hadn't bothered to be honest. It is true what they say about Doctors writing, although, you would think they would make it a little more legible for the likes of me.
Aripiprizole, I think that's how you spell it, is a strange little drug. It has done things to me over this last week that I would not have thought possible. I got out of bed for a start, daily as well. It has made me ever so logical, something I have severely lacked up until now. It has made me a bit OCD though. I spend a good hour arranging my house plants on a sideboard in the lounge. No idea why, it just seemed right at the time. I have cooked, cleaned everything, done everyone's washing, including Jay Greaves collection of 84 under garments, rather pants. I have run around the house, even when I can't run anymore. I sit down for ten seconds and it seems like an hour. Away I go again, fluffing, plumping, beating and whisking. I have had two hours sleep in four days, don't feel tired, have to take another pill and off I go again. Mad eah.
First week on meds. A bit mad, productive, logical, OCD and I have no idea why I am doing it!
I love being a bit mental, not sure every day will work for me long term however. Jason may well have to walk out on me at that point. I would walk out on myself after all. So far Jason has been great and is shocked at my immediate progress. As it happens, so am I. I suppose when the right Doctor, finally prescribes the correct medication after a hellish six months wait, anything's possible!
Peace and Love as always!