every so often I seem to go through a "my doctor is actually a bastard"^ phase. and unfortunately, that time has come (the walrus said.)
I hate this. I can't say anything against him without feeling like I need to disclaim it because we all know The Truth is that he's wonderful... and I have the world's hardest time just being upset with him. on top of which, when I'm this hurt, I just don't want to go anywhere near the situation. I want to back off, and I want him to see how hurt I am by the fact that I can't even show up... but obviously the only person who gets hurt if I don't go to therapy is...me. well, probably not, actually. but it certainly does hurt me, and I don't need anymore of that.
I'm so pissed off. he's cancelled so many appointments lately; it's insane. there was Labor Day, and the bus weirdness, and him being sick... and then Friday he cancelled *again*, supposedly because of the [traffic]. that is such bullshit, considering that my mom managed to drive here from that same intersection right before his secretary called to say he was cancelling. and if he really thought it was an issue, we could have at least talked on the phone. since when are these appointments so meaningless that we can pretty much just toss them aside for no reason at all? I've fought to keep going - whether I'm in the mood, whether I feel well, whether it's convenient - or not. and I do make room for certain things: I really do appreciate that he's staying home when he's sick more often because I really can't stand the idea of him being as ill as he was in December. but this is just such a different message than the one he always gives me. I hate the disappearing act. it's pissing me off, and it's hurting my feelings, and most of all it's scaring me. appointments are being cancelled completely without warning, without compensation... and even though I'm supposed to be able to page him; it's completely unreliable. or at least, it was completely reliable. now, it's becoming more and more a reliable fact that he will not return a page.
my mom has been trying to get him on the phone for days, and the fact that she can't hurts me. I don't page him, personally, because I worry I'll feel worse when he doesn't return the call than I do thinking I can still page him. and so much has happened this week, and already Friday I was so upset because I had way more than we could discuss in an hour, and I thought I'd go crazy... and then he cancelled Friday, which meant I wouldn't get to talk with him Friday, finish up a bit on Monday, and feel a little more sane. and I don't even *know* if I have an appointment tomorrow - seeing as it's technically a holiday, and I haven't seen him recently enough to know if he's taking the day.
and all of this considered, I asked my mom to page him again. because I really, really needed to just say to him, "I need to know that I can get a hold of you." so she paged him for the zillionth time. and he finally called back his exchange, who called her back, to relay this message: "If it's an emergency, go to the emergency room. The doctor's not returning any calls tonight."
what is this? am I being punished? that line about the emergency is just fucking unfair. he knows that I have no idea where the line is about it being an "emergency", and he knows that I hate to bother him, and he knows that I tend to err on the side of not asking for help. so what the fuck? granted, he *might*, conceivably, I-seriously-doubt-it-ly, have acted differently if he knew I was trying to get a hold of him, not just my mom... and maybe he didn't intend those words to get anywhere near me, but they did... and they hurt, and I don't know what to do. he promises he's going to stay, but he's not even *here.* cancelling appointments without even talking to me, not returning phone calls when you have no idea where I am... this isn't ok. this doesn't make me feel safe. it actually makes me feel like a fucking retard. so stupid to trust him. so stupid to believe him. so stupid to feel safe with him. you want me to go to the emergency room? and tell them WHAT, exactly? that if I don't stay there, I will wake up in one piece tomorrow and go about another day? that despite any ache in a different direction, I'm not going to hurt myself in any way? what do you want me to tell them? the PEOPLE in my life who are supposed to keep me safe are bailing, so even though I keep myself safe, I need to sit here in this stupid white room and pretend that this helps me feel better. which it won't. because it pretty much just reinforces that lovely "you can only have care in a hospital" concept.
I actually thought that extended to all professional care. I thought he was included in the people who cared for me so long as I was unfit to do so myself. now apparently, I need to relapse. which isn't *fair.* it's not something I'm going to do. but it'd be nice if *he* didn't give me that message also. he knows I have no friends here. he knows I'm not using any of my "unhealthy" coping mechanisms and am, therefore, totally vulnerable to every attack. that despite how well I deal with all of this, I'm getting beaten up in the process... it's hard, I'm not superhuman, I need help. he *knows* this. he's supposed to know not to leave me on my own this long. he's supposed to know not to blow me off.
what if I did go the emergency room? would that prove something? would that help him understand how much I really needed his advice in that moment, how much I was really depending on what he had to say to me? please, let me go sit in the emergency room, and have another band of people tell me my situation is not an emergency. and there isn't a room for non-emergencies. there's not a room for three-year-olds. there's not a Rogers for us either. there's nothing. there's less than nothing.
I do a good impression of normal several days a week. but I'm not really healthy... I need help. still. even when it's Sunday or the fucking debate crew is in town or I can promise I won't do any of the things that would release this tension but be damaging. it's days like this I don't understand why I'm even trying to move forward. and you might want to skip this next statement. if you don't, just know that blah-blah-blah-I'll-never-act-on-this: but it's nights like this when I think there's no point in going forward. that the best I can do is go back and have Rogers for as long as I can before the illness kills me.
HE'S SUPPOSED TO BE HERE.
he's supposed to be helping me.
~me
^I don't like using that word in particular, but I can't come up with anything I want to substitute. so... that's just the working word-of-frustration.