Wow...what a busy & eventful past several weeks. Long story short...husband and I are being referred to counseling. Here's the scoop:
About 7 weeks ago, husband...we'll call him Fruitcake Jones...literally freaks the fuck out. The doctors call it a "Manic Episode". I call it crazy town. Fruitcake doesn't remember a damn thing, so he calls it the week he lost. If you've never witnessed such an event, well, it isn't pretty. Mr. Jones, normally quite "normal" for an OCD hoarding freak, became extremely agitated, had a constantly horrific headache, couldn't sleep, tried spray painting light bulbs (because he needed a reptile bulb and our local pet store was out of stock), constantly left the gas burners on the stove burning at full strength (which I would find after returning from a long and stressful day at work), and let me tell ya, those are only a few of the symptoms. It was a week in hell. I feel for anyone that is dealing with that BS on a constant.
Anyhoo...after losing consciousness and spending 24 hours in the hospital having every test know to man for this sort of condition, he was sent along his merry way with two nice prescriptions in hand. Yeah for drugs. I do say in all sincerity that these drugs are seemingly working for him, as best I can tell, because the mania hasn't returned and the pencil/rubber band/magazine hoarding is relaxing a bit. I believe I saw Fruitcake throwing out an entire crate of empty bottles...that is a fucking miracle, I'll tell ya.
So we followed up with a Psychiatrist (aka The Specialist) and after "interviewing" three, decided on one that we (ok, me) like and feel has our best interests in sight. After a 30 minute recap of the past 40 years of Fruitcake's life, The Specialist decides that A) the meds should be taken for the duration of at least one full year at which time we can reevaluate the need for medication and B) the second, and equally important, component of recovery will be psychotherapy...as in couples therapy. So let me get this straight: Mr. Jones freaks out and I have to go be shrunk? WTF is that all about?! *sigh* I'm thinking that the Specialist is working with Ms. Mindbender to creep into, and ultimately control, our minds.
But of course I will go with Mr. Jones; it is a necessary evil. But honestly...I'm scared shitless. Even thinking about our first visit in 13 days is enough to get my heart rate up. (I wonder if that is the equivalent to running a mile? Hm. Note to self: check on that.) The fact that I will be sharing the most intimate of personal details with a complete stranger trained to dissect a human with mere words...well, that's awful fucking freaky, my people. Will I be discussing my childhood? My mother? The loss of my virginity? Are we the last people on Earth to have made it to 40 without the assistance of drugs (well, me anyway) and psycho-babble? The strange thing is...I'm afraid and yet strangely anticipatory at the same time.
Yeah, I'm screwed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
