Monday, September 27, 2010

Life full of mania with a dash of humor and a slice of normality (those are the secret ingredients) Vol 2 Issue 32

Rat Tail
Z’s on the side
Cowboy Boots
Osh Kosh B’Gosh Bibs

If you got halfway down this list and instantly pictured me as a young boy I am a little more than concerned (aside from you Mom). But that is exactly the look I use to rock back in the eighties (dead sexy I know). Over the years my haircut decisions didn’t get much better; being the grass fairy I was the bowl cut slipped in somewhere in the early nineties and was persistent enough to make it to High School. I would make tiny alterations to my bowl which included shaving underneath and putting my number shaved in my head (can’t believe I had my V Card till my late teens).

My number growing up was the number five and to be honest I have no idea why I chose that number. I think it was an omen of some kind to tell my future self (me now) that my fifth doctor I see will be the last (it’s a stretch but does give me hope).

Since I was able to get insurance I’ve been on the hunt for a new doc. The UC doc was great but doesn’t have a private practice so it was back to the hunt. I’ll admit that I’m not the most cooperating patient due to my trust issues I’ve had so far with my docs. My first doc in Colorado I was sent to after I was released from club psych ward Porter Hospital branch was really easy to find. This was probably due to the fact that the doc’s office was in the Kaiser Permanente building in Denver. Kaiser Permanente was my insurance so really easy to remember (I wonder who’s interest this doc had in mind? Probably not the guy making him work on Friday afternoon, that was me).

I will say though the next couple of docs were real pieces of works of which my last first doc’s appointment involved the following closing arguments from myself:


Needless to say our relationship didn’t progress past the initial meeting. I do like my new doc but there is one little annoyance (ok two, she calls BMD my illness, not a fan of that) she wants me to take another medicine to help level me out. I told her I’d do the research over it and let her know but I highly doubt I add anything, I feel my lithium is working and my side effects are nearly gone save the occasional instance when I’m sliding into third and feel a little turd, diarrhea (Redlegs magic number is 1, got my playoff tickets and look for me to rebuttal Colin Cowherd’s ridiculous Reds rants of regularity).

This is the fifth doc I’ve seen and that would make the soccer number shaved prophecy come true but I'm having difficulty trusting someone after spending only twenty minutes together she is wanting to medicate me more (kind of feel like she's pushing her own agenda rather than treating me). All I hear about is trying to level me out, what’s good about that? This BMD is all over the place and by numbing me into a level someone else feels comfortable about is not living, and I’m not going to do it.

Since many of my manic experiences involve music I’ve decided to add random music videos to the blog for my enjoyment and your inconvenience. Enjoy!

Coming Correct,

No comments:

Post a Comment