The day was Wednesday the 28th of June and I was cured of my depression. Jokes! But I did have an appointment with my doctor on Wednesday. I forgot to take my anti-depressants for about a week in May and I felt a lot better than I had done before I started taking them so I figured I didn’t really need to take them again. My doctor, as ever, was easy to talk to about it all and she was happy to let me continue on without the drugs. She was a bit disappointed for me because my therapist had been a dud but otherwise all seemed good. Then she told me that she didn’t need to see me again unless I felt like I needed to.
I’ll be honest, that was a major disappointment. I liked having those regular little check ups with a medical professional that really listened to me. I left a bit disappointed. You’d think I’d be happy that the dark cloud had lifted enough that I didn’t need help but I just don’t think that I am.
That was Wednesday, then there was a busy weekend because my brother got married on Saturday. I got to see all my family in one place and boy do I have a story to tell you, but that’s for another time. Today surprised me, despite how disappoitning my therapist had turned out to be she is no longer the most frustrating medical professional I have met with regard to my depression.
With my brother’s wedding done and dusted it was back to my ordinary life. A part of my oridnary life is regular blood donations, you’re welcome world. If you aren’t familiar with the process there’s an A4 questionnaire you have to fill out every time, mostly questions about your sexy times but some about your general health and travel. One of the questions is ‘have yo useen a medical professional in the last 7 days?’
Well if you’ve got this far in the blog post and you can count, you know I have. So i ticked ‘yes’, I’m no liar. Then at the appointment they double check your answers and ask you details about your yeses. I was obliged to tell them I only saw the doctor regarding my depression and that wouldn’t affect my elgibility to give blood.
Last time it was no problem, the lady was sympathetic and moved on. This time though… I can’t say she wasn’t sympathetic but there was a big hooha about whether I could give blood. And then when I needed to go to the toilet afterwards, because they’d been drowning me in cups of water, I had to have and escort. As though I was going to take this prime opportunity while I was a pint of blood down already to divest myself of the rest. They said it was in case I felt faint but this is my 17th blood donation and never before have I felt faint or had a toilet escort…
Just because I’m depressed it doesn’t mean I’m going to kill myself when left to my own devices. Hopefully next time I go I won’t have had a doctors appointment in the last 7 days and I’ll just tick the box and make no mention of my mental health. It is more than a bit disappointing to have to hide my mental health from medical professionals though.