Losing everything has an effect upon a person. It humbles. It forces one to realize what is truly important in life.
In 2013, I lost everything. No, I didn't lose my car, or my house; I didn't become homeless. In the years before, We had already lost much of anything which held monetary value. My home belonged to my parents anyway, or it, too, would have been lost.
I lost everything of emotional value to me. I had lost one son during birth in 1990, I lost another son to cancer in 2002. I lost my niece to a drunk driver in 2010 and my step-daughter to murder in 2012. < YES, this is the absolute truth!>
As if that isn't enough, in 2013, I lost everything else: my dog (she died of a very old age), my family, my best friend, my dignity. I lost the very way I saw life. I lost myself. I lost it all. I became nothing. My world ceased to exist.
I had removed my rose-colored glasses.
“I might be pregnant,” said my daughter, Belle.
I was jumping for joy at the thought of a grandchild that could actually be a part of my life!
“Well, fucking great!” thought the other side of me. The last thing we need is a child in this household.
I have a granddaughter whom I have not seen since she was not quite two years old < more on that later>. Therefore, I am, in many ways, delighted to have the opportunity to have a grandchild in our life. However, now is abso-fucking-lutly NOT a good time.
One, Belle is 22 years old, has not held a steady decent job – ever. < She has been emotionally behind since she was very young – brilliant – but emotionally behind.> Belle has a high school education via home school, but no formal “diploma” and is hesitant to list this on a job application. I believe her lack of employment has been exacerbated by...
Two, her good-for-nothing boyfriend, Eban, who weaseled his way into the household. He was 26 years old at the time, and was only supposed to stay a few days. He's not held a job, save one (for a week) since he's been here (more than a few months). He's dropped out of high school, and doesn't seem to have any notable skills but playing video games (and even that is only marginal). Despite the constant encouragement (and many shouting matches), employment continues to evade Eban for one 'reason' or another. < the lazy son of a bitch, probably only the second person on the face of the earth I wish could simply be erased from existence. If we weren't so ill, I would have forced him out months ago!> Ahem...
Three, my father, Ronald (Ron), with 80 years on him, lives here as well. Strong, robust, very set in his ways. Dad believes a man is to be judged upon his hard work; dislikes Eban immensely. Dad/Ron is a dear man who prefers to live with the status quo rather than rock the boat (and ensures his feeling are known through a silent pantomime of passive-aggressiveness).
Four, I have been unable to work since the spring of 2012 because of several medical issues and have filed for Social Security Disability, but the process has just begun. (Lyme Disease is only one medical issue mentioned so far, more to come.) The four of us are surviving upon my father's Social Security Disability payments.
Yeah, we need a baby in this household like we need Armageddon. Oh, wait, Armageddon has begun...
The lawyer, We'll just call him Mr. K, the year before, had suggested we seek counseling and gave me the name of a psychiatrist, Dr. B. We've previously met Dr. B when caring for a friend of my daughter's, who had been forced out of her home several years earlier. We were not a fan of Dr. B.
We began a couple sessions with another, female, psychologist, but did not feel she was helping; She referred me for a psychological test which suggested I had anxiety disorder <Yeah, go figure. I knew this much, I was already on Clonazepam> and some professional wording which basically meant he didn't know what was going on. That's the part we needed to find out. We stopped therapy.
After a few more urgent suggestions from the lawyer regarding the need for a psychiatrist (not psychologist), I began to search for someone in my small town (less than 10K people) for a psychiatrist. < At the time, I truly didn't know what prompted him for this insistence.>
By this time, I had no insurance and no income; but was informed by Mr. K the Social Security Administration would not accept the finding of anyone less than a "psychiatrist." The person must have at least "M.D." behind the name to be considered 'credible.' <Really?!?>
After calling around for weeks, I made an appointment with Dr.B . :-|
The sessions with Dr.B seemed almost innocuous. I spoke, he listened and offered suggestions. Dr. B was so interested in our case that he put me as the last patient of the day so, that if we went over time, neither his schedule nor any other patient's schedules were affected. After a few sessions, I mentioned I will have to cut the sessions to once every couple months because of finances: he cut his fees in half. After a few months, when even that became such a burdon, my fee was cut to only $25 a session (he normally charged quite a bit over $100, but I won't state how much over).
We normally didn't agree with Dr B's suggestions. Truthfully, anyone who wanted to help needed to hear a lot more than the little bit he heard to have the whole picture, but even I didn't know it at the time. I was addressing only one little facet of the whole gem, and Dr. B's suggestions were not feasible to us. But because I needed his "M.D." I continued the sessions.
Thankfully, we never acted upon Dr. B's suggestions. We never felt truly comfortable with him or his suggestions, and did not always tell the full truth to Dr B. He prescribed some anti-psychotics for some nightmares I kept having. He said it was 1/10th of the dose, but he had found with other patients it worked well for nightmares, although not good for anything else at that dosage. We were not comfortable taking it. I never took the pills, though I told Dr. B they worked.
One day, several weeks after this session, I received a call from Dr B's office that my appointment is canceled. I asked for a reschedule date and was told Dr. B will be out of the office for an unknown period. The intake lady had always seemed to be a caring and honest person, and she told me (in a very hushed voice) the Dr. B may not be back.
I found this disturbing, to say the least.
Rarely do I look anyone up on the internet, but something, somewhere on the internet caught my attention – a story on a psychiatrist in my area, maybe – We thought to look up Dr. B and found him – in jail. We won't divulge why, because it had nothing to do with us. So much for that. His diagnoses of anxiety disorder and PTSD would likely be thrown out the window at the Social Security hearing.
Next!
No job, no money, no psychiatrist. I turn to the system. We go to see a psychiatrist within the local governmental system, lovely :-|. After waiting two months, we finally see the doc. I sit in her office, talk with her for five minutes, she types on her computer for the remaining 55 minutes < I don't know, answering her emails?> and I walk out of there with a diagnosis of depression and bi-polar, and a bottle of Abilify. Bullshit!
I talk to the ladies at the front desk. They read the notes and tell me since I cannot take antidepressants because of the side effects experienced previously (hallucinations, suicidal thoughts) they cannot be prescribed for me. I am told, “According to the regulations, You must be in need of medication to continue on this program. She probably had to prescribe something.”
Well this was the doctor's last day. She told us this when I came into her office. She said that this was the one and only time I will see her, that she is retiring, and this was her last day. She probably just didn't care. Lovely :-|
So she throws a bottle of pills at us which are worthless unless taken with antidepressants, just to keep us in the system, and throws a “depression” and “bi-polar” tag on me. Again, lovely :-|
I never took the pills, and never went back.
Next!
< YES, this is ALL the absolute truth!>
We're tired, now, and will write more later. Thank you, in advance for upvoting. It helps.