nccotus

I didn’t want to go but I wae forced to.

It was all a set-up.

My parents already had it in their minds what they wanted.

I was told I was going for “a fresh look at the diagnosis.” Bullshit. My mother wanted a diagnosis of manic depressive (“bipolar”) and that’s what she got.

I was up all night before the day we drove to Baltimore, drinking tea with milk and puking my guts out into the kitchen sink. Profound anxiety.

I was told it was “the best inpatient psychiatric facility in the world.”

Dr. Lipsey referred in a derogatory way to my “fantasy” of his psych ward when I quoted that.

He rendered a diagnosis of Major Deoression; which would have been helpful if he had stood by it. It was a major layer of the onion but not the whole thing; and then he referred to the new doctor coming in as a “second opinion.” She was two weeks late; had been caring for her seriously ill husband; was exhausted. So was I. To be honest, I have to say that I had trouble with her because she is Canadian. It made her obviously more easily sympatico with my mother, father, and husband. My parents are/were British, my husband, Canadian. My father went ahead of me the night before she came in to slip her a gallant note about me needing a mood stabilizer. Then he and my mother were there bafore 8 a.m. the next morning to catch her before she had the chance to see me. Also someone had slipped me a dose of Ativan the night before, a benzo (an anti-anxiety med) that doesn’t agree with me.

There is more to be said here but not at this time.

The lawsuit is a Godly work.