I saw my GP yesterday, and finally had a chance to talk to her about counseling and the Mental Health Nurse. I had a list of questions to ask, simple things, like 'why do I have to see her?', 'what will I talk to her about?', 'how will she help?'. I ran through them in my head before the appointment, but once I sat down and she asked me how I was, I lost the words.
I couldn't get out clear questions, more vague fragments, like 'I just don't know' and 'I need more information'. Still, she said some reassuring things. She wants me to be able to talk to the nurse like a friend, for her to get to know me and build up a trust. It can start slow, with just one appointment a month and working up to weekly. There won't be any probing questions about my past or deep-and-meaningfuls. It's just to have someone to sit with and talk to to get things off my chest, which I do admit could be helpful.
Then she told me the nurse was at the clinic now, literally in the next room, and asked if it'd be okay to meet her quickly. She'd finished seeing patients for the day, and my GP had asked her to stay back for a few minutes to meet me. I said please not right now, that I needed time to think and process things first. She tried to talk me into it, but I ended up in a panic, head between my knees, hyperventilating, crying that 'you said on the phone you wouldn't push it today'. She's giving me a couple of months, which is a huge relief, but I have to start counseling with the nurse by March 2014.
We talked about my medications. I've been on Zyban for just under two months now. I think it might be helping a little, with my smoking at least. The last few weeks I've been smoking 35-40 a day, down from 40-50. I just don't feel like I need quite as many. I'm not sure if it's helping with the depression, but at least it hasn't made it worse like other meds have. Most days I still can't get out of my chair, though I've had a few days in the last month without self-harm, which is a change. It's not that the urge isn't there, but there have been times when I've just been too... I don't know... too drained to commit acts of self-violence.
The only problem is the script costs $160 a month. My heart sank when she told me that. My pension covers the first two months as a quit-smoking aid, but it's not covered for longterm treatment of depression. She really wants me to stay on it. She thinks it's the right med for me and could potentially help a lot with both smoking and depression, as does the psychiatrist she consults with. We need to check with insurance to see if they'll reimburse some of it, though apparently they don't usually. She said to not give up if they initially say no, to take it to the top, that she'll write a letter saying whatever it needs to say. But if insurance won't reimburse it, I can't keep taking it. Mum's said that she'll pay the full price for it, that if it helps it's worth every cent, but I couldn't shoulder the guilt. I carry too much guilt about money as it is. I just couldn't do it.
The dietician was yesterday too, which made for an overwhelming and exhausting day. I filled her in on the last couple of weeks, mostly about the cheese-trip to Warrnambool, and the 200 and 350 cal days when I was home alone. She asked how I felt physically on the lower days, and I told her my blood sugars dropped to 3.5 after the first day. I felt a little tired and shaky and slightly nauseous on the second day, but nothing too dramatic. She asked if I was still thinking clearly with the low sugars, and I couldn't help but giggle as I said 'as clearly as I normally do!'.
It doesn't seem like two weeks since I last saw the dietician. Normally when she's away it feels like much longer, but not this time. Time's blending into one big mess of undefined days and lost hours, speeding by while I sit frozen. I don't even know what I'm doing with myself anymore. Everything just feels like it's slipping away.
(P.S, since a couple of you mentioned it in comments on my last post, I feel the need to say; I've never really had trouble eating in public, no more than I do at home anyway. It's strange now that I think about it, but it's never been a huge problem for me. Maybe because I've never had to eat in public much, I don't know. It's just never been that big a issue for me.)