I realized last night that my anxieties have been a struggle for over 20 years of my life and now it has a friend...depression.
I sat in the emergency room, which looked like a hospital room version of an office cubicle w/ a little more privacy. I listened to the middle aged social worker telling me that I had to find a therapist - as if I didn't know this by now. I waited for about 20 minutes for the social worker to arrive. 20 minute and all she could tell me was something so obvious and required no effort or research on her part. What a waste of time! I told her that my insurance just kicked in and that I am "shopping" around for a cognitive behavioral therapist and she looked at me blankly and asked, "Why?" "What's that?" She was uninformed about this disorder and as I stared back at her, I thought to myself, She must think I am crazy.
She had no idea about social anxiety although she pretended to know what was best. She gave me a list of numbers and circled one called ValueOption and said it was for people without insurance. I HAD JUST FINISHED TELLING HER THAT I WAS INSURED AND I HAD EXCELLENT INSURANCE COVERAGE THAT JUST KICKED IN THIS MONTH. INSURANCE THAT I PAY FOR BIWEEKLY. So, I was confused about whether she was listening to a word I said or if she just assumed that I needed ValueOption because I am a black woman. I felt my anxiety rising and as she continued to talk, my mind was trying to figure out why she directed me to ValueOption so quickly. It was weird...did she do this to everyone? I would never know. Maybe it had nothing to do with my race...maybe it was the fact that I had on a worn out pair of blue Diesel sneakers and I looked like I was stressed out because I had just cried me a river before she arrived.
I just stopped talking and waited for her to complete her required spheel and leave. She wasted my time. Also, the doctor never came in to actually talk to me. I never saw a doctor. It seems like despite all the progress thats been made in this field, doctors are not even taking social anxiety seriously anymore. It seems like in the 90's, everyone was taking it serious but I am not sure if this is still the case. (8/26/06 >I just remembered!! Actually, I did see the doctor, it happened so quickly, I barely remembered. I saw him before the social worker came in to speak to me. The doctor, a tall white man, came in cloaked in his white uniform and asked me why I was being seen. I told him. He asked me 2 or so more question and then he asked me if I did drugs. I said No (which is true) and he asked me again. Why is he asking me again? When he asked me the second time I felt so inferior. Did I look like I was on drugs? I know I do not...did he think I was acting strange because I was anxious and my eyes were damp from tears? Did he not ever meet a shy black woman before and took my behavior as that of a drug user? Did I just look strange that night? As the questions came up in my head, the smaller I felt and the more self conscious I became.)
I felt worse. I told the pretty Phillipine looking nurse, who looked like she was about 25 years old, that I was currently taking Lorazapam but it was not helping me much. When she returned to the room she handed me my prescription for Ativan, a medication she mentioned about 30 minutes prior was the same thing as Lorazapam. So someone tell me why they would prescribe this to me if it is the same? She also handed me an Ativan pill and a cup of water & ice then added that she would be peeking in every now and then to check up on me. It doesn't make sense to me but the anxiety in me held me back from speaking up about my well being...about my health...about my concerns.
After they were done with procedure, I removed my hospital robe and got dressed. I wiped what was left of my earlier tears that sprang out from time to time when I was alone for about 15 minutes in the hospital cubicle like room...and then I waived goodbye and smiled to the nurse. As I walked out I wondered what she was thinking of me and if she was talking bad about me. I wondered if I looked weird when I was waiving to her. I wondered what the other people around were thinking.
I called a cab and went home. It was about 2AM and I had to be up by 5AM for work.
COPYRIGHT 2006
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