Another of my fumbling attempts to write about disability:<\/p>\n
I have disabling depression. When I’m not medicated, I have constant panic attacks. Leaving the house is an enormous effort. This wasn’t always true — I have had problems with depression all my life, but acute problems that lasted a limited amount of time turned into chronic problems with the same degree of seriousness a couple years ago. I put up with it for about a year and a half before seeking medical treatment.<\/p>\n
When I am medicated with a low daily dose of Prozac, I have occasional panic attacks, but I can control them with the use of Xanax. I take half the lowest prescribed dose of Xanax about once a week. Xanax can be an addictive medication, but to be honest, I don’t much like its effects — I certainly wouldn’t pursue them when I wasn’t having a panic attack. When I am having a panic attack, I need the medication to allow me to do even simple tasks. When I’m not having a panic attack, the effects of Xanax hold no interest for me.<\/p>\n
I have a few problems getting medical treatment. Most major of these, at the moment, is that my number one trigger for a panic attack is a doctor’s office. I take Xanax before I go in, but my heart still races, and my blood pressure goes very high. My blood pressure is on the high side of normal when I am not in a doctor’s office, or when I have been seeing one doctor long enough to start to feel comfortable with her (which takes a long time).<\/p>\n
Unfortunately for me, I’m in a phase of my life where I’m moving a lot, so I don’t have the luxury of having a single doctor for a long period of time. That means, every time I go into a physician, I have a bad panic attack. I tell the doctors in advance that this will happen, and that the high blood pressure is transitory. But, often, they don’t believe me. My very anxiety — the panic attack which is causing the high blood pressure — provides grounds for their disbelief. If I am anxious, then I am insane. If I am panicking, I am incapable of logical thought. I must be unable to tell them the truth.<\/p>\n
The last time I went in to the doctor, it was to see a gynecologist for a genital cyst. I had never seen this woman before. She condescended to me; she tried to change me off of the established medical treatment I had established with my last long-term gynecologist; she tried to put me on a medication which is not indicated for me, and which (as I established with my last long-term gynecologist) would involve putting me at risk. When I told her that I had an established treatment plan, she was dismissive. She also manhandled my genitals in a way that was unpleasant — not abusive, but problematic for me.<\/p>\n
I am afraid of doctors like her. She was in a relatively powerless position — the cyst resolved on its own — but I am afraid of what will happen if I am dependent on their treatment.<\/p>\n
At the moment, I am dependent on someone’s treatment. I need to refill the prescriptions for my psychiatric medications. I’m terrified to be this dependent. I tried to take myself off of the prozac, to see if I could survive without it — once the medication had a chance to work its way out of my system, my worst symptoms recurred. It will take time for me to build back up to therapeutic levels, but the experience confirmed for me that simply ending my treatment is not an acceptable choice for me right now.<\/p>\n
I need prozac to help me express the person I am, the person I always was, the person who can leave the house when I choose to. I need Xanax to control the rare, but existent, panic attacks which I have on prozac. These two medications have been successful for me, at resolving my symptoms.<\/p>\n
I am terrified that my next doctor will refuse to give them to me. I am terrified that I will run into some philosophical objection on their part – particularly in regard to the Xanax. They’ll decide I don’t really need it, or that the risk of dependency is too great. They won’t listen to my experience with these symptoms, or my knowledge of myself. They’ll look at the person who is panicking, who is afraid of their power, and decide that I am incapable of logical thought.<\/p>\n
I have an appointment to see someone tomorrow morning, and I am relatively sure that by the end of the appointment, I will be greatly relieved. She will probably listen to me when I tell her that I already have a successful course of treatment.<\/p>\n
If she does refuse to help me, I can make an appointment with another physician. But given my unfortunate reaction to doctor’s offices (which makes this whole thing much worse and more complicated, I confess), every new appointment will be very difficult for me to make, and means another day lost to a panic attack. Insurance complications make this more difficult, since we have to pre-verify appointments with any physician. Seeing a new doctor is not an easy or simple thing.<\/p>\n
In the end, even if the process is hard, I am sure that I’ll have my refills. I will have what I need to continue being a functional person. But right now I feel helpless.<\/p>\n
And it reminds me of how lucky I am to be able to navigate the system in the ways that I can — without my spouse’s help, I’m sure that I would have less ability (and certainly less ease) to get the treatment I need. I have insurance, and class privilege, and other things. Still, in this particular way, I have experience with some kinds of disability, and I am terrified by the systemic barriers that surround it.<\/p>\n
A friend of mine who was recently diagnosed with a very bad spinal arthritis that makes it impossible for her to carry things, or remain in one position very long, was telling me recently that she finds it very difficult to accept that there are things she can’t do anymore, because it reminds her of her vulnerability. That’s the terrifying thing here, being vulnerable, because someone else’s momentary callousness or willingness to put primacy on their preconceptions could have a major effect on lives beyond them.<\/p>\n
Commenters, please respect the personal nature of this post.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Another of my fumbling attempts to write about disability: I have disabling depression. When I’m not medicated, I have constant panic attacks. Leaving the house is an enormous effort. This wasn’t always true — I have had problems with depression … Continue reading