Dr. Doolittle with an Ego

It occurred to me that I had better pick up the pace of my writing if I am going to complete my journey in only 40 days...yikes!

My next stop on the search for a doctor to help me was to a highly recommended psychiatrist in the Houston area...yep, another psychiatrist. And true to form, all of the "good" ones don't take insurance so it was $250 for the first visit! But you get what you pay for, or so they say! I was hopeful that this time would be different.

My dad was in town at this point on one of his many trips to help me sort things out and come up with a "plan." My dad and I went to this new doctor that had been highly recommended to us by a highly recommended counselor (we will get to her later).

We call him Dr. Doolittle because his office was filled with lava lamps, pictures of Betty Boop, whimsical lights of all kinds and other various retro decor. Not the typical office we were expecting. This gave us a sense of hope that he (Dr. Doolittle with an Ego) might be different, he might be able to think outside of the box, he might be able to cure me!

We sat down and endured the ceremonial hour long "interview" type conversation that every psychiatrist has with new patients. I was becoming an expert in the art of telling my story over and over. Every time I would answer a question, Dr. Doolittle would record my answer on his trusty clipboard and then the dance would start all over again. Any history of depression in your family? When did you first start to notice your symptoms? What were your symptoms? Do you ever talk really fast? Do you ever feel like you are better than everyone else? Have you ever wanted to commit suicide? Do you ever go long periods of time without sleeping? You get the picture!

After completing his" oh so original" list of questions, he proudly announced that he knew exactly what was wrong with me. Dr. Doolittle with an Ego told me, according to all of my answers, I was a classic case of bi-polar.

Silence.....did he seriously just say that I was bi-polar? I am afraid so. I gently told him of my experience with Dr. Dictator and the large dose of Seroquel she had given me. I adamantly explained that I could not go back on that medicine. He proudly offered his expert opinion that Seroquel was absolutely not the correct medicine and that he had always had good results with a medicine called Lamictal.

In the end, I submitted to the doctor's diagnosis. I was at the mercy of the medical community and these so called "experts" who were now in agreement that I was bi-polar. My dad and I left his office (after paying the obscene office fee) with a new prescription and the hope that normalcy would soon return to our lives.

Umm..not so much! The next morning I took my first pill of lamictal and by the afternoon I felt like bugs were crawling out of my skin. I remember I was laying in bed and I couldn't stop squirming or itching my skin. It was awful. It was a scene straight out of "The Mummy" when those beetles crawl into the people's skin and eventually devour them. That was happening to me or at least it felt that way.

Chip made a call to the doctor (it was now Saturday) and explained the situation. Dr. Doolittle adamantly argued that there was no way that I could be having a reaction from the lamictal. But he finally relented and told us to call his office and make an appointment on Monday. I found out later from another doctor that a patient can have a psycho-samatic (sp?) reaction to medicine that can make you feel like bugs are crawling out of your skin).

Chip and I met with the doctor that next week. Our intent when we met with him for the second time was not to change the diagnosis of bi-polar, it was simply to see if there was an alternative med that I could take.

We sat down and I immediately began to cry. I was so tired and discouraged, I just needed someone to tell me not to worry and that everything would be alright. I told Dr. Doolittle with an Ego again what had happened and instead of an understanding/compassionate response, he surprised both of us with his reaction.

He looked me dead in the eye and said, "Sharee, I sleep great at night knowing that I help my patients." Yes, you heard me correct. His response to my desperate plee for help was to tell me that he sleeps great at night. Just in case you are just picking up with this blog, at the time I was barely getting any sleep....I would go days without sleeping more than a few hours. I think Chip and I were in such shock we didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

This doctor had such a large ego that he could not bare the thought that he might not have picked the correct medicine for me. There was no room in his book for error and there was no way he was going to allow himself to admit that he was not a god. Needless to say we quickly left the room, paid another obscene office fee for a 5 minute visit and were quickly ushered out the door.

Somehow, I had just paid for the opportunity to have a doctor speak to me like I was an idiot and have him throw the horror of sleepless nights back in my face. I am sure you can see why we added the ego part to his name.



Moving on!