Birthdays

Today is my birthday.

Am I having dinner with friends? Nope. Had dinner with them last night. And and very loverly breakfast with them this morning.

Party later? Nope not a big fan of parties. Either given to me or that I've been invited to. Never been a fan. As for birthday parties, I only remember two that I've had. One when I was about 10—I didn't know anyone there, my sister invited them all. And one when I was 30 and everyone there was a friend of my then partner, none of which spoke to me after the breakup.

Am I going out for drinks. Nope. Haven't been to a bar since I (mostly) gave up drinking. I drink way too much when I go to a bar and it's best to avoid temptation.

So what am I doing this birthday eve? I rode my bike to a secluded park. Now… I'm sitting on a rocky beach. Writing this blog. Drinking a thermos of coffee. Eating a rather large traditional Jewish bagel. Reading Twitter. Having a smoke. Watching the sky get darker. But mostly listening to the waves crash against the shore.

Heaven.

I love a lot of things on this crazy world. But coffee on a beach at sunset? Nothing finer.

Hugs.

Follow Up 2!

So it's been about a month since my second appointment. So what's changed?

The doctor recommended therapy. He said that I should see a therapist once a week for as long as required. "How much do they cost?" I ask. "Depending on the therapist $100 to $200 a session". Gulp. Once a week. Four weeks in a month. $400 to $800 a month. Gulp. That's $5200-$10400 per year. GULP! Well that isn't happening.

"Do you have coverage" he asks. "$500 per year" I reply. For that much money I might get to Tom age 10. Certainly I'm not going to sort out nearly 46 years worth… Not that I think there is 46 years worth only a couple of key sticking points but you get the point.

So I'm not sure how to proceed. I can't afford those prices but I need to clear my head. So what do I do? Well for starters I go to the beach.

Sure I'm not directly dealing with things but I'm not creating new things either. Having a completely stress free day really helps out. The warm weather helps. Being out and about. Swimming in the water. Watching the people. Watching the sunset. Generally speaking: it is a day to completely destress.

Are the problems gone away? No. Do they seem as important today? Yes. Are they bothering me as much? No.

So here I sit, on a Saturday night. Outside by the river. I try to move forward. I look for patterns in my behavior. I breathe.

Follow Up!

So I went for my "psych eval" this week. Ya it's about as fun as it sounds.

I get there on time. And surprisingly the doctor is on time as well. I say doctor—he's actually a visiting doctor. Drive-by assessment, as it were. He's a doctor, but he's from out of town. Way out of town if I had to guess. He had an accent that I was not familiar with. Good English, but an accent nonetheless.

I'm not good with accents. I'm not good at understanding most Canadian english speakers. When you throw an accent on top of that I have to listen really intently. And purposely. So, at the very least, he thought I was really interested in what he was saying.

But that is neither here not there. He's a certified doctor. And was, in fact, a good doctor. The session was more of an interview than a "therapy session". He asked the questions you would except him to ask. "how are you feeling?" "how was your childhood?" "how's work?" "do you have friends?". Peppered in with these benign questions were questions like "have you considered suicide?" "have you ever hurt yourself?" "do you think the world is out to get you?". You know, pretty standard stuff. OK so all the questions were not that standard but I guess they are standard for an "are you depressed" questionnaire.

I answered every question as truthfully as I knew it. And before I knew it our hour was up. The visiting doctor left me to discuss my case with the clinic lead. Thirty minutes later all three of us would get together to discuss where we would go from here.

And thirty minutes later the three of us were in the lead doctor's office but instead of talking about my case and where we go from here he starts asking me follow up questions. The doctors had clearly spoken as he didn't ask the same questions. He asked new questions. He asked follow-up questions. He asked deeper questions. I talk for another 30 minutes.

At the end of this thirty minutes he looks at his watch and says "if it's OK with you I want to see you again as soon as possible. Make an appointment on your way out."

Well now. How do I take that?

I take it quiet well in fact. Though I did not get a definitive diagnosis, one way or the other, I did get confirmation that what I'm feeling is as complex as I thought it was. It's not simply a matter of "you're depressed, take these pills" or "you're fine, get more exercise and it will be better."

So, I have another session in a couple of weeks and I look forward to it.

Ever onward.

Psych!

So I had a lot of blood work done recently. Eight vials worth to de exact. I had a urine sample taken and analyzed. My doctor examined me from top to bottom. I was poked, prodded, and had a finger inserted about my person. He asked me 50 questions. He did everything medically imaginable a GP could do. And what did he find? Absolutely nothing.

I am, for all intents and purposes, a very healthy 45 year old male. I'm even off the cholesterol medication that I've been on for years. Everything is exactly as it should be. So, I ask my doctor, "why do I feel like crap and why do I have no energy?"

He starts asking me another 50 questions. He pauses slightly and sighs weirdly between each. "When was the last time you had sex?" Hummmpf. "How often do you go out with friends." Hummmmmmmmpf. Question after question. This is just uncomfortable. Even more uncomfortable than the "finger".

"(during your answer to that last question) you started to say something else. What was it?" For the life of me I don't know—I didn't even remember the question at this point.

There is a long pause. I stare blankly at him.

"Well the tests show no signs of any trouble. What do you think the problem is?"

I look quizzically at him. I'm tired of his questions.

"I'm going to send you to a specialist. How do you feel about seeing a psychiatrist?"

His question does not surprise me. "That would probably be a good idea" I say.

It is something I've pondered for a while. Should I go to therapy? Am I depressed? According to my doctor I probably am and just to be certain he wants to send me for a psych evaluation. I go this week and I am looking forward to it.

I do not view this as a bad thing. I view depression as any other disease. It is a medical fact. Maybe it will be treatable without medication. Maybe medication will be required. Hopefully it will get better quickly. Maybe it will take some time.

What I'm hoping for is that this psych eval will help me find some answers… sometimes you just want a diagnosis that you can hang a plan upon.