The Psychologist (what a JOKE!)

On the way home from the idiotic Second Opinion doctor, I began to think, as many of us do, “Maybe this really is all in my head.” Even Big Handsome began to think this, and why not? I had been to a few doctors that had done ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to help me. I figured what’s to lose? I’ll look into seeing a psychologist, maybe it was just “all in my head”. I began to doubt myself, to doubt all the symptoms I was having; basically beginning to think I was just a crazy hypochondriac.

I made an appointment (after much research into finding just the right one) hoping that this was the answer. I was just an overzealous, highly anxious hypochondriac that might, just might, benefit from a professional psychologist’s perspective.

In my research to find the “best fitting” psychologist; I was looking for a faith-based doctor, one that knew about dealing with chronic illness, and one that was familiar with treating anxiety.

My visits went something like this:

Big Handsome had to take off work early that day to take me to my first appointment (as he has to do for all of my appointments). The whole gang went; we figured that while I was in my session (45 minutes, I think), Big Handsome could take the gems and roam around until I was done. Afterward, if I felt up to it, we could go to dinner together. You see, we live in the boonies, so when we have the chance to go into town, we try to make the most/best of it.

I arrived on time to my appointment albeit a bit anxious. Mind you when I made the appointment and the scheduler asked why I was coming in, I expressed to her that I had a newly diagnosed chronic illness and anxiety issues (at this point, I still did not realize or know that the two are so intertwined as no doctor had ever explained the ANS system to me). I went into the office and began to fill out the necessary although rarely looked at paperwork. Big Handsome had dropped me off and had gone to run a few errands. Forty-five, yes, 45 minutes later…I was still in the waiting room. Big Handsome called to see if I was ready to be picked up only to find out that I hadn’t even been seen yet. So there I am, a patient with a chronic illness that makes it hard for me to sit upright for any real length of time, plus I have anxiety issues that are growing by the minute. SERIOUSLY?!? This was not going well at all. Nothing annoys me more than tardiness (ask my co-op students!). Especially when it has taken all I had just to admit that I might need a psychologist because this might be “just all in my head”.

I entered her office, or what was supposed to be a psychologist office. Really, all I had to go on were TV psychologist’s offices. I was expecting a rather large room filled with dark wood paneling, a mahogany desk, a leather doctor chair and a nice, comfy, large couch in which to lie down with the obligatory tissue box close at hand. What I witnessed was a small, cramped room complete with clutter and tchotchkes everywhere, two chairs, and a comfy looking couch that held not only the doctor herself, but her files, laptop and papers that seemed to have vomitted everywhere. Here I was, a person with a newly diagnosed chronic illness, anxiety issues and self-evaluated OCD tendencies that had been left waiting in a waiting room for 45 unnecessary minutes only to arrive in the office ready to begin straightening it up. Was there a vacuum somewhere close?!

OMG! I was freaking out on the inside. I figured I was there for a reason, so as usual, I suppressed my emotions. That’s what one does in a psychologist’s office right???

First off she asked me why I was there. I told her (what I stated above) to which she picked up her laptop and “googled” POTS. Surprise there, she’d never heard of it. So, she focused on my anxiety. More to the point, she focused on HER anxiety. She expressed to me her anxiety issues in detail. Ummm…correct me if I’m wrong, but did I ask for a play-by-play of her anxiety issues? I thought I was there for me… She went on and on about how she gets anxious when she makes a date with girl friends to go to the movies and she has to leave 45 minutes early to make sure she is there on time. This way she wouldn’t be so anxious and knew she would be on time and relaxed for the movie. REALLY!!! I couldn’t even get out of bed some mornings because my heart rate was at 150, going to the movies was nowhere on my list of things to do. Getting out of bed was first on my list at the time. I couldn’t even make it to my son’s 12^th birthday party and she’s sitting there talking to me about a girl’s night out?!

I won’t bore you with the subsequent office visits, which by the way; she either cancelled or rescheduled most of them. Needless to say, I saw her about six times, and EVERY SINGLE TIME I got to hear about how she handled her girl’s night out to the movies. This lady needed a padded cell, and I was going to this “crazy” for advice?! On a more positive note, she did in fact give me some rather good advice on relaxation tips.

I stopped seeing her after her n’th retelling of the story of her girl’s nights out!