I was seeing one of my docs the other day, a pulmonologist, not a shrink. But, he’s had email correspondence with my psychiatrist. I’ve been curious for some time what their messaging consisted of. Well, I had the chance to read it after the doc had to take a call, handed me my file and sent me on my way. I stopped to read their exchange before I gave my file to the nurse.
My shrink said, among other things, I am “compliant” with medication and very “conscientiousness” about blah blah blah, I forget, but the gist was that I know the value of the meds in my life and I have no issue with swallowing my pills, letting my scripts lapse nor is there much danger of me stopping my meds without consultation.
I’m a 47-year-old woman, a freelance journalist and author, I work a full-time job, and I have a primary intimate relationship as well as many successful and satisfying friendships and other types of interpersonal relationships. But, what is most important between docs (or at least to my shrink) is that I am medication complaint. Gawd, I hate that term!!!
I discussed this with a social worker friend of mine who works with the euphemistically termed “chronically and persistently mentally ill with criminal justice issues.” I said, “You mean crazy people who’ve been in prison? She laughed, “Well….”
I hate being simply a compliant statistic to doctors and therapists. For example, I just cut my talk therapy down to twice a month and my therapist was really reluctant to “let” me do so. I told her in no uncertain terms I was decreasing my therapy no matter what. She said if she felt she needed to see me I would have to come in for her to agree to it. Of course I agreed. I’m such a compliant client/consumer. However, as much of a mental health consumer I am and as much help and support I find from my shrink, my therapist and from the medications I ingest, I am beginning to feel very confined, even imprisoned.
I have no plans to stop taking my meds, but I am so tired of being so closely monitored and handled with kid gloves around my BP. I . Hate. It.