I Fought the Law and the Law Won

"You know when you've found it, there's something I've learned, because you feel it when they take it away."
--"Amie", Damien Rice

Today I am blogging about something that actually happened to me. It is funny, absurd and a little electric now when I think back on it. The setting was yesterday. I had my first appointment with my psychiatrist in over six months. He wanted to put me back on a first generation antipsychotic and you must already know my feelings about that.

I resisted and while the doctor did not seem enraged, he seemed annoyed and would whirl his office chair around so his glance could meet mine would I would say something he deemed outrageous. I told him I would not take another first generation antipsychotic. He made the argument that you could look up Aspirin on the internet, see all the bad points, and become terrified of taking it. Of course, we weren't talking about Aspirin. I saw the logic in his debate, but one must remember that psychotrophic drugs run the spectrum from psychiatric medicines to LSD.

At one point he said, "I AM YOUR DOCTOR..." and I thought he was finished right there. I guess I could have yelled back, "I AM AN ENGLISH MAJOR..." and we would have been even. But, he didn't stop there. He said, "I AM YOUR DOCTOR and I would not prescribe anything to hurt you." Technically, it was too late for that argument, but I listened.

I tried to convince him to sign me onto a PAP for Seroquel, but he said I was already on a PAP for Cymbalta. And my response in my mind was, "So?"

He told he that when he worked in the E.R., they routinely saw cases of patients with Akathisia. Akathisia is what we're now calling my seizure-like episode that seemed to electrically charge and tear through my muscles quite some months ago. He said I just needed to take Artane with the antipsychotic and I would be safe. I asked him what my percentage of safety would be. He was a little flabbergasted and said I'd be totally fine. He also said that if he were to put me back on Haldol right now that I would be fine because of the Artane. I didn't point out that he was the one who had forgotten to prescribe me Artane with Haldol in the first place-- since I can't write out my own prescriptions. I wish I could.

Now comes the really strange part....

After my back and forth with the good doctor, I was instructed to wait in the lobby again for M****. M. is the one in charge of the medicine. M. took me back to his/her office and explained that s/he knew that I was scared of the medicines the doctor wanted to put me on. S/he assured me they were safe and I should not be scared by the side effects I had read about and encountered. S/he said the doctor did not want to hurt me. I felt a little like a child being sent to the principal for mouthing off at the teacher.

Now, I like M. S/he is a good person and always friendly. So, I listened, but was still on my guard. The good doctor had also accused me of not taking my medicines. I told M. that I had been receiving my meds from my general doctor and they made me sign a release form so they could call my doctor and confirm I had been, in fact, picking up and taking the medications. M. reassured me s/he believed me.

I left the clinic in a dark mood. After being accused, lectured and offended as a 25 year old patient, I felt quite hopeless about my situation and had a smoldering sense of anger along with a foiled sense of justice. I had expected Nurse Rachet to wheel out my meds in a cup at any time and sublimely remind me to swallow my capsules.

Life is just one big obligation in the looney bin.