So as all of the internet knows, I had a doctor’s appointment Monday. I also had a training at work which I had to leave to go to my doctor’s appointment. I was in a panic and stressed about returning to the meeting let before I even left so I was good and anxious when the doctor sat down in front of me. He asked about my health history and if there were any particular reason I had come to see him.
I explained the situation and must have seemed even more tightly wound than I felt because he asked me several time if I was being treated for anxiety or depression. I assured him it was definitely more anxiety but both. I told what I was taking and how much. He started me on a lower dose because apparently starting up on my dose after a two month hiatus could make me pretty sick. But… I did get my prescription and follow up appointment.
Like I’ve said here and in a piece I recently wrote for Black Box Warnings, I don’t really talk about my issues or medication with anyone. I feel like people make basic assumptions about people who are treated for emotional problems and I manage myself just fine. I am just as capable if not more capable than most of the people I know. Only handful of my friends know I am on medication and most of them found out in a roundabout way. I didn’t just dome out and offer up that information. Actually, the last couple of guys I dated never knew either and I practically lived with one of them. He knew I was taking something every day. He didn’t ask what and I never felt inclined to offer up that information.
This caused a pretty interesting and somewhat insulting misunderstanding for me yesterday. I’ve been staying with a friend who lives a neighboring town (where I’ve picked up some extra hours at another library branch) who I have been staying with on the days I work there. I have known her for thirty-three years and until yesterday she did know I was taking anything.
She drove me to the doctor’s and picked me up afterwards. I just told her I had an appointment I couldn’t miss it. I also told her, a week or so ago, about my most recent ex and his recent discovery that he had gotten a treatable STD from some skank he dated briefly. (And he wonders why I always insisted on condoms).
Now he dated this woman two months ago. The last time I saw him was July. All she heard was he has cooties and I urgently needed to go to the doctor. A+(selective hearing)B= My best friend had cooties.
I was totally unaware of her assumption. I went to the doctor. They phoned in my prescription. I made it back to work before our lunch break was over. When II got off of work I hopped on a bus, picked up my prescription and went back to her place.
Later that night when she got off work she asked me about my day and if I had picked up my prescription. I told her I had and then she (kinda’ smugly) asked, “How long do you have to take them?” I thought it was odd she would ask me until I realized she thought I had gone because I had contracted (apparently through long distance osmosis) what ailed my ex. I looked at her for a long minute and answered, “For the rest of my life…” “Ooooh, it’s one of those” she said as though something had clicked.
I assumed she knew what I was talking about but today on my way home it occurred to me she probably thinks I have herpes . Fuck! She totally thinks I have herpes. So…
To my oldest friend in the world,
I don’t have herpes. I don’t have any sexually transmitted diseases and I never have. I am really big on safety. I can’t get something from someone who contracted something long after we stopped having sex.