Yesterday was not a good day. I had to return a bunch of phone calls (which I hate doing), one of which was rescheduling my son’s appointment with his attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) specialist. She worked at a psychiatrist’s office and has a degree in pharmacy, so she was very knowledgeable in medications to help my son sleep and eat when he became a skinny insomniac thanks to his ADHD medication. We worked together for almost two years, and we had reached a place where all of his medications were working well for my son.
Just like that, she is out of our lives. Nobody even bothered to tell us that she left the practice. I have no idea if she retired, moved away, was fired, or moved to a different practice. She is just gone, and the office is giving me no answers. Now, I am in a position of having to start from scratch. I have to find another doctor, go through evaluations again, and find someone who will meet my son’s needs. I am so frustrated I could spit nails.
All of this triggered my issues with feeling abandoned during the holidays. I know that this woman did not technically “abandon” us, but it sure feels that way. This is another person who was a part of our lives for two years and is now just gone with no goodbye or other form of closure. It just plain stinks.
Of course, my son does not remotely care. These are all my own issues. If someone is going to leave me, it is always at this time of year. During the holidays is when friends announce that they are moving away, doctors drop me, etc. It’s no wonder I hate this time of year.
I even got some really great news today (that a grant I wrote won $500 for my son’s school), but I couldn’t feel joy because I was so overwhelmed with this news. I was so incredibly triggered. I doubled my Xanax dosage, drank some wine later in the day, binge ate, etc. I cried off and on all day. I still feel lousy.
Hub works with a lot of doctors, and he is going to see about getting us a good referral. At least he is taking a proactive step toward fixing this mess. Every direction I turned was a big fat disaster.
Photo credit: Lynda Bernhardt
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