Imagine This

Imagine that you're in a panic, an absolute panic. Let's say three, yep, three of your psychiatrists have closed their practices in less than a year, and you have to find a fourth one. I'd tell you why they all are closing their practices but that would start a big fire storm over the "Campaigner and Chief's" policies, so I won't go there.

I know that may be asking a lot since, well, most of you are "normal," but try to imagine the anxiety attacks brought on by this. Especially for someone with a "crazy" gene running loose in the family.

It's not so easy finding a new psychiatrist. It seems there's shortage of psychiatrists in this area anyway, and those that still do have a practice have them closed to new patients and what if you don't click if you happen to find one? Valium, Valium and more Valium! Oh, and occasional Lavender Martinis. (Those things KICK ASS!)

You have no idea of the panic that comes with all of this, especially since my family doc said he's uncomfortable prescribing my meds for more than two months.  Me un-medicated is pretty much one, big, hot mess.

I told my last doc that I couldn't find a provider anywhere in the Portland metro area. I didn't care if they were on my insurance or not, I just needed a doctor. That doc made a call to one of her associates and was able to get me into her friend's "closed to new patients" practice.

I met with her, she seems nice. I like her. Oh you hear the "but" coming don't you? Ok, here is is. Friday, on my third meeting with her, while finishing telling her more of the goings on in my family and in my personal life (yes it took three visits for that) she was staring at me, mouth gaping.

She listened intently. When I finished she shook her head and said, "Wow, you have such a complicated life!" She seemed shocked.

I told her I knew that we've dealt with more than many families have, but to me my life is normal. She said that's what worried her, that for me it's normal. I couldn't help but think about her statement.

I glanced over at the chaise lounge in her office and wondered if I should move over to it, lie down and act like one of the stereotypical psychiatric patients. You know, lying there, sobbing and dabbing my eyes with a crumpled tissue while pulling the stuffing out of a toy rabbit. 

When I look back on everything, I can hardly believe the things that happen in my reality show of a life. Believe me, if I listed everything for you that's gone on, not to mention my bipolar, you'd think "NO WAY that crap's happened, you be making that shit up!"

If we did have a reality show I'm sure Geraldo would want to file a law suit against us for false advertising since none of it seems possible. Well it has happened. Over. And. Over. And. Over. At times our life makes the lives of Britney Spears, LiLo and the Kardashians look like a Shirley Temple movie.

So my question. What should I be most worried about? The fact that my new doctor is freaked out about how complicated my life is, or that fact that to me it seems normal?