It's sad.

It was a long, wierd, day, but a productive one. 

Our ride was a little late, but not too bad.  Then I found out it's the guy with the problem teenage daughter, who loves to relate every detail in her latest escapade, verbally pulling his hair out, etc. 

I wanted to tell him "You are not modeling a Godly life for her.  Why do you expect her to live to a higher standard than yours?"  I have also told him, for about a year now, she sounds bipolar, she needs to be diagnosed and medicated.  He always goes "Yeah, great" and the next time it's more drama and I didn't take her to the doctor. 

It's rather toxic and negative, and not any fun on top of a mixed depression.  I envied Ron, who put on his headphones and listened to his talking book. 

I guess I should have cried a fake headache, but I didn't realize it was him until we had been talking for a while. I wonder if he does this with all the clients, or just me?  I don't know.

Anyway, we finally arrived at Doc's office.  It's in a good sized building.  It has a 2 story escalator. 

I fell off an escalator when I was a little girl, all the way from the top to the bottom.  I basically landed on a "nice man" in a business suit.  For obvious reasons, I don't like escalators now. 

I'm OK "going up" but coming back down generally triggers a huge panic attack, which happened today.  Pretty embarrassing.  I FINALLY, after years of visits, figured out which elevator setting I need to get to the "proper" exit point.  I will be doing that from now on. 

Coward?  Yes.  Thank God I am not called to hand out Bibles from "heights" or tall escalators. 

We had gotten there early, so we hung out in the deli for a while.  I told Ron, later, it's a testament to my medication, manager came and sat next to us, chatting, for a while.  Finally it was nearly time for my appointment. 

Ron and I had a short wait.  Doc had a (medical) resident, and a medical student, helping.  He knows I am fine about "sharing my business". 

That's just what I did, after the initial greeting "I'm getting munched by depression... don't want to get any worse...Depakote?" 

He thought Depakote (the generic, actually, Valproic acid) was a great idea.  He called it "salting".  He's starting me at 250 (1000 is the standard adult dose), just to help out my other meds. 

Have you seen the commercial, where the antidepressant is trying to help a lady live her life, but can't?  Then the adjunct drug comes along and they do it together?  Same idea.  Except I have a little army of different colored medications, helping me out. 

I would laugh, if it weren't so sad.  There's something very sad about the fact, that in a given week, I need 7 antidepressants, 28 mood stabilizers, 7 more mood stabilizers, and 7 antipsychotics.  You should see me when it's time to get my refills.  I practically need a shopping cart for my medication! 

I thank God for every single tablet and capsule.  I know they are the only thing giving me any kind of "life".  I know I'd be dead without them.  I thank God for them, the people who make them, the wonderful people who dispense them, and the fantastic man who prescribes them.  I thank God for a husband who understands I am limited by the side effects, and is OK with the trade-off: stable mood - limited functioning. 

But it's sad.