Hope dashed. Tuesday April 25, 2017
I saw a neuropsychiatrist a few weeks ago. A very clever, softly spoken man, he had instructions to Assess me for 20 minutes and on the basis of that Assessment, I would proceed to some sort of Treatment. I was in with him for over 40 mins. And when I finally came out of his room, I was in tiny, wet pieces. My precious mask which has held up for so many years, and which has received a good battering since I broke my wrist last autumn, finally dissolved and ran away.
In the few minutes I was in the room with the quietly spoken doctor, he succeeded in breaking every one of my defences. He brought to the surface again every single thing I was carefully disguising with smiles and good cheer.
I came out of his room utterly naked.
However, now that he has identified my need, even if I have to wait a year or more, I can have that hope.
And so, even though I emerged crying, red faced and a "mess" I also felt relieved that I had been heard.
As a contrast with that, I had an appointment with my GP a day or so ago. I asked him about help with the excruciating pain in my legs, which has finally been shown to have no connection to the surgery I had to remove a brain tumour over five years ago. He stood up; opened the door to his office and said "Cleverer people than I have not sorted out that one. Good day to you."
Enraged is the only word possible. My Civil Partner patiently pushed me in my wheelchair, through the building, out to the car.
I was not heard. I am disappearing.
With my defences gone, utterly, and no support at all from my GP, I have somehow to re-build myself from my roots.
I need your help to do that, Moodscopers. Please help. I can't do this alone.
A Moodscope member.
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