I saw my new psych doc on the 29th. Was scheduled for a 40 minute new patient appointment because, new doc. I gave him a bit of back ground information, like my current living situation, relationship status and a tiny bit about my kids. I was amazed (after the fact due to emotional Sass) that he looked at my chart and saw pretty much everything he needed. How long I had been diagnosed and insert of symptoms, but wanted me to tell him how I knew I had Bipolar 1. Oh, you know, the risky sexual behavior, the days of no sleep and the biggest red flashing light is the spending of cash. Typically 5-7 times a year. I usually cycle into depression in July and November, but this last year has been hard with all the deaths so close together of very social people in my life. I talked about my oldest friend and her suicide and being in the phone. Having a friend of almost 30 years (since Monkey’s age) and doing everything together and our boys are three months apart and all have D names. Sitting there, crying, realizing how fucking depressed I was because of Bipolar, fucking sucks ass.

He asked me to make of all the meds I have been on, then asks went I stopped taking them and I said side effects. I’m med sensitive so I get odd side effects as well. He looks at the screen then looks at me and says “You’ve been on pretty much every anti depressant and psych med that there’s no point in my giving you something that we know won’t work. Have you heard of genetic testing?” “That’s the test where they are now you metabolize meds, right?” “Yes. I want you to get that done now. The problem could be that you may metabolize meds in a way that you only need a low low dose in order the be baseline.” Cute my ABOUT FUCKING TIME inner monologue. Not only that, he saw that I started taking Metformin and he said “You have PCOS.” And not in one of those questioning other doctors way, but a statement of fact. I like this doctor, because he wasnt dismissive about any of the meds is been on and not trying them long enough or until a therapeutic dose was reached. I backed him into a corner, like my ortho doc and my obgyn. I’ve done all I can, but my body is like “NOPE! NOT GONNA DO IT”

I get the genetic testing done right there in the office (fucking badass) and they should have the results back in two weeks. Since my meds are all whack-a-do just like me, he doesn’t mess with them. Sees me back at the end of April, and send my rx to the pharmacy. My pharmacy is so awesome, that the pharmacist Heather (she’s so sweet and awesome) talked to me about my rx. New doc sent over Wellbutrin IMMEDIATE RELEASE instead of my sustained release that I’ve been taking. Then she asks how I do taking the sustained release in the am because it sounds wire me. I told her no, because after my bad I’m so damn tired I zonk out.

Sometimes it pays to go to a pharmacy where YOU know the staff and THEY know YOU.

I also saw my obgyn and told him of my period woes. Like, the way it has tapered off to nothing. And also about the right side pain again, and how it moves and all that fun stuff. Then he goes poking around and I’m like “Oh god no ow that hurts please don’t do that!” and he looks at me and says,  “I have a feeling you’ll need surgery again, but let’s get an ultra sound just to make sure.” To which I reply “I knew there was a chance of the endo and the cyst coming back and i might need surgery again. I’m ok if that’s what needs to be done. What I’m NOT ok with its my uterus acting like it’s had been”. And he agreed that is not even in the realm of abnormal for my periods to be this fucked up. Hence, the Metformin. It can be used to tell the ovary to release the egg, which he disgusts is the main culprit as to why I’m (excuse me, my UTERUS is) a hot mess. Yes, it’s also used for Blood sugar management and for fertility treatments. I honestly dgaf what they’re used for as long as 1) I get regular and 2) it doesn’t cause my unborn children to have gills. *#2 is from a movie and if you can name that, I’ll make you some badass homemade chocolate chip cookies, deliever them to your house, and clean the bathroom.* I just, for a fucking while, would love to not be in pain and not have to worry about a possible but, most likely surgery coming.*

So for now, I’m tired. And tomorrow is going to be a hard day (another long and emotional post) so I’m popping two .5 klonopin so I will stop gritting my teeth and so I can cry myself to sleep. To many other thoughts that don’t necessarily have to do with blogging.



This little pill makes me giddy because it’s my favorite color