Well, today I still am seeing green. I wonder if that’s the opposite of seeing red. So I started the somewhat absurd process of getting in touch with the meds doc. Because it’s county mental health, I simply cannot just call the meds doc. They won’t give me a phone number or transfer me to her office. First I have to call my case manager, leave a voice mail and she will call back, when we talk I describe what’s up, then she will contact the meds shrink, then the meds shrink will call or tell the front desk guardians to give me an appointment. Good thing I’m not dying, though, huh?
I can’t drive, though. That sucks. I feel like a prisoner. In a way, I am at least a hostage. I just won’t drive because if my vision abnormalities (nice way to put, seeing green that isn’t there due to meds or hallucinations or some other thing) were to get any worse and I was on the road, I might kill someone. Like myself, for instance. Not a good plan.
So I called my best friend.
Hey, can we go somewhere? You drive?
Where do you need to go?
Anywhere. Anywhere other than this house.
…Luckily, he’s used to me and doesn’t even think this is a particularly nuts request…
Sure, let me throw on some clothes.
OK. How about coffee? I’ll buy you a coffee in exchange for the ride or something.
Nah, as long as you decide where to go, I can buy myself a coffee or whatever.
Ok. Thanks. Coffee then. Well, I won’t drink a real coffee. One of those protein drinks instead or my stomach will kill me. Really, it’s just driving me nuts I can’t drive myself anywhere with this seeing green crap.
Let me grab my clothes. Be over in a few.
It’s very nice not to be spun around by a good friend at least. Something’s anchored. Even if it is green around the edges.
The meds doc will probably call while I’m out. Good thing my only phone is a cell.
Babbled by Immi.
"Are you sure it isn't time for a colorful metaphor?"
Tags: bipolar, meds
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