this is jezebel in hell
Saturday, August 28th, 2010 02:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
erikaMy psychiatrist has been a tireless advocate for me for complete recovery. He always makes me feel like he completely believes in my capacity to fully recover/go into remission. Over the past four and a half years, I feel like he's done many things for me above and beyond the normal call of duty. He's always listened to me and either done what I suggested or explained to me why it wouldn't work in terms I could easily understand. He never talks down to me; he takes more than enough time with me at each appointment while somehow managing to stay on schedule.
He's never complained about the mountains of paperwork he's had to do for me (SSA disability, school accommodations, etc etc) and has always done the paperwork well ahead of time or more quickly than I thought possible. Nor has he chastised me on the (hopefully rare) occasions that I've forgotten to get refills of medications, which have definitely caused problems both for me and for his office. He didn't even make me feel bad when I decided to go off all my meds and then relapsed; he just calmly discussed with me my decision to stop medication and then when I relapsed, he worked with me to get better. The only time I've ever seen him get remotely close to chewing me out was when I tried to kill myself in 2008.
He's suggested that I get a second opinion when I felt like I was taking too much medication, and not only recommended other doctors but also contacted them on my behalf to set up appointments.
We have a great rapport; he makes me laugh even when I'm depressed.as.fuck and he's recommended some great books to me. At every appointment we have, he makes sure I know he really cares how I'm doing and he is constantly saying things that really make me think. He isn't scared of treating my depression far more aggressively than I know most other doctors would.
Basically, he's the perfect psychiatrist. And he's dying.
He has a bone marrow disease (some form of leukemia, I think) and although recently he got a bone marrow transplant, he told me at our most recent appointment on Thursday (when I asked, he didn't bring it up) that there are no cures for his condition, only treatments. Which basically means he's on his way out, in a polite way of saying. (I don't know how long he has, it seemed impolite to ask, but he has said he's going to keep working for as long as he can.)
I've been crying off and on since then whenever I think about him. I can't believe that this loving, caring man who has literally saved my life is going to die. I'm an atheist/agnostic aspiring Buddhist and I don't believe in anything after death except possibly reincarnation, but it's times like these I really wish I did.
I don't know what else to say. I feel like a terrible person for thinking this, but what the fuck am I going to do when he's gone? And besides that, there are some practical concerns—am I even allowed to go to his funeral? (His funeral, oh jesus.) Am I allowed to ask him how much time he has?
I just wish this weren't happening.
He's never complained about the mountains of paperwork he's had to do for me (SSA disability, school accommodations, etc etc) and has always done the paperwork well ahead of time or more quickly than I thought possible. Nor has he chastised me on the (hopefully rare) occasions that I've forgotten to get refills of medications, which have definitely caused problems both for me and for his office. He didn't even make me feel bad when I decided to go off all my meds and then relapsed; he just calmly discussed with me my decision to stop medication and then when I relapsed, he worked with me to get better. The only time I've ever seen him get remotely close to chewing me out was when I tried to kill myself in 2008.
He's suggested that I get a second opinion when I felt like I was taking too much medication, and not only recommended other doctors but also contacted them on my behalf to set up appointments.
We have a great rapport; he makes me laugh even when I'm depressed.as.fuck and he's recommended some great books to me. At every appointment we have, he makes sure I know he really cares how I'm doing and he is constantly saying things that really make me think. He isn't scared of treating my depression far more aggressively than I know most other doctors would.
Basically, he's the perfect psychiatrist. And he's dying.
He has a bone marrow disease (some form of leukemia, I think) and although recently he got a bone marrow transplant, he told me at our most recent appointment on Thursday (when I asked, he didn't bring it up) that there are no cures for his condition, only treatments. Which basically means he's on his way out, in a polite way of saying. (I don't know how long he has, it seemed impolite to ask, but he has said he's going to keep working for as long as he can.)
I've been crying off and on since then whenever I think about him. I can't believe that this loving, caring man who has literally saved my life is going to die. I'm an atheist/agnostic aspiring Buddhist and I don't believe in anything after death except possibly reincarnation, but it's times like these I really wish I did.
I don't know what else to say. I feel like a terrible person for thinking this, but what the fuck am I going to do when he's gone? And besides that, there are some practical concerns—am I even allowed to go to his funeral? (His funeral, oh jesus.) Am I allowed to ask him how much time he has?
I just wish this weren't happening.
