Here I was, thinking I was doing very nicely without the drugs, feeling proud of myself.
But that is the whole point, isn’t it? That you are wrong and you are the only one that doesn’t see it.
I will call the GP and set up an appointment, hopefully with one of those I know and like, if not with whoever, as my history there you go, it’s all there on the computer, and say you know what? I thought I was doing very well, thank you very much. But apparently I’m not. I am still wrong. So, you know, as this is going to be a tough time ahead, I think perhaps I should get started on the fuzzy pill again.
But, say, perhaps you could refer me to someone who can diagnose me this time?? Cause, like, you know, if I am wrong, I need to know in what way, exactly, I am wrong. And if all this goes the way it’s looking, then I want to be able to look back and say ah no! I was sane all that time, I was on the correct medication! You know, just cause otherwise people call you crazy.
So, let’s see where this goes. I wonder if I can be referred without having to spend money I don’t have to see a psychiatrist or whoever it is that will diagnose you? Because I can’t afford thirty an hour and bus fare, let alone 60 bloody pounds an hour!
So, dear NHS, let’s see if you can help out a lass here, and actually give me meds after a diagnosis, not before. So I know whether I really am as out of order as he says, and he has the diagnosis to prove it, or whether I have just been wasting my time and killing my natural ragey chemicals for nothing.
And then and only then I will make a rational well thought out decision.