I went to a new general practitioner today.
The medical assistant took my medical history, and when it came to the medication part, I giggled nervously because I would have to list the several medications that I am prescribed. Yes, over 1300 mg of lithium, along with Zyprexa, Prozac, and Straterra.
I don’t know why I felt like I had to joke about it to be comfortable with it. I thought I was comfortable with it until I had to list the milligrams upon milligrams of junk that I put into my body every day.
The medical assistant, who was only a few years older than me, commented “You take a lot of medication for being so young.”
I don’t know whether to apologize or be embarrassed or be worried about myself.
When I actually saw the doctor for the first time, I also giggled about bipolar. This is how I put it. She asks, “And you have depression?”
“Yes. And something along with that, bipolar. That kind of goes in the same group. Heh. Heh.”
As if I am a little schoolgirl.
It’s obvious that my self-acceptance has a way to go. I have always been one to use humor to make myself comfortable–my parents taught me that trick. However, I’m bothered that I need to use humor, that I can’t be serious and outright and say, “I am bipolar as well.”
It’s amazing what a day at the doctor’s office will show you about yourself.