My fab Rheumy suggested that I go and see a psych that he knows that specialises in chronic pain management.
He didn’t so much suggest as tell me he didn’t want to see me again until I got off my fat arse and saw the dude.
So today was the day.
I sat in the ‘waiting room’ of the old house converted into consulting rooms, watching the receptionist type away next to the stove and old sink and the patient before me wander out the back door to check out the outdoor dunny.
Rustic is probably the word most real estate agents would use.
Perhaps ‘renovators delight’.
Or maybe ‘ripe for redevelopment’ would be more fitting.
When it was time for my appointment, I was greeted by a grandfatherly like man in slacks and a vest and tie. He led me into a room packed to the ceiling with boxes and books, 2 chairs by the fireside one with a table beside it with papers, a pen and a cup with a kitten on it. The other, a box of cheap tissues.
Worlds away from the last psych I saw who wore flowing colourful clothes in a clinical, sterile office and told me to burn my worries in a fucking fire.
We sat, exchanged pleasantries and talked about the innate comfort of a fireplace, and then he took my family history.
Just the basics: Parents, kids, living arrangements.
He asked a lot about my father, put a circle around my mother (I am assuming he sensed hostility?) discussed The Damn Emos and Boo, MPS and fibromyalgia, and then poked a big ol’ sharpened stick at The Big Bad Thing just for shits and giggles.
It was like a sideshow. We would talk about my father and his health, how hard it is to parent teenagers, about Boo and his Booness and then poke poke The Big Bad Thing PTSD monster and tears spring to my eyes.
Discussing my work or pain management and poke poke pass me another tissue please.
Over and over until my time was up and my face was taught with dried salt.
His eyes glinted with interest.
He tells me I am fascinating.
Shocked I am still working.
This part I have done before.
Give them the history and then they tell me I am fabulous for coping so long and then it falls to shit.
The first one obsessed with me getting my family to do more to help me out.
The second wanted me to write it all down and set a match to it to ‘cleanse’ myself.
Even this one is asking me to meditate, which is all well and good if you can stop your mind from screaming.
How do I do this?
How do I make this work and not just give up cause I can’t see the point.
What do I say, ask for, DO to get beyond the superficial yes I have an interesting life (perhaps I should start a blog) and all the players are a fucking psychiatric wet dream, but can we concentrate on slaying my dragons before they destroy my body as well as my mind?
Help?Magnetoboldtoo is sponsored by: