As you know I've been devastated with my best friend-dog passing. I miss her so much and I break down daily. My life blows. Again, I wish I died the moment she did.
(Don't worry, not killing myself, even though I am not religious, I do for some odd reason believe that when a person commits suicide they have to come back, do it all over again and it is worse...no fucking thank you, you can keep that lottery ticket!)
Yes, I have another dog-Ricky, sadly our bond nowhere near what I had with my best girl Lu. He's hungry, I am the source of food...sometimes he sits with me and watches TV or whatever, doesn't play, fetch, snuggle, any of it. Truth be told we do not get each other. He's skittish and I am bossy...I guess we do share a common dislike of most other human beings and a like for food. That seems like it though.
Since I figured I am distant and too heartbroken to pay attention to him I had this "brilliant" idea that I should foster a dog. Yes, he dislikes other dogs, and humans, and he's an old soul...why did putting him out of his comfort zone at age 10 seem like a good idea...I don't fucking know. I am hit in the head. Perhaps I needed a distraction.
Well, let me tell you, available to foster was a puppy...yes it's work, I've done it before and successfully may I add...she was adorable and actually really good for a little puppy oblivious to the threats of the world we live in. Ricky hated her (big surprise...estrogen levels were finally down in this household and I go and ruin everything), but that even wasn't that big of a deal...I was having major breakdowns. WTF? Not that I expected to be over Lu, not that I really ever expect to be over her...I just didn't think I was going to turn into a hysterical shit storm. So 3 days later, she's back at the rescue (way to fucking follow through on my commitment!).
Now to get to the point of this blog...my gyno a few weeks back suggested I may get a wee bit of help from pharmacopeia on handling my "mental state" (or lack thereof) and so my vet had the same recommendation today (yes, my dog's doctor, I know... I am straight jacket ready, fabulous).
So after a minor nervous breakdown on the phone to my friend (who is a dude and I was blabbering about how I hate life and it has no meaning, there's no point, I have no clue wtf happiness is...and so on and so forth... feel free to add the rest yourself), I figured well perhaps I should get some meds for a bit (even though I hate medication and feel like they ruin more things than help) and only because I already eat healthy, exercise 5-7 times a week, take vitamins, omega-3's, don't drink, don't smoke and don't do drugs (perhaps I should take up some of those activities). I also tried yoga, counseling with psychologists before (just pissed me off since I had more homework than I did in college and resolved nothing, just brought on anger issues and homicidal tendencies towards my Ben Stein like voice counselor).
Needless to say, I don't have insurance or a clue where to get this kind of assistance. Google is always an option of course.
My quest went soemthing like this:
Call Maricopa County Health Behavioral services (since one of their specialties is getting people on the right track for this kind of stuff) possible option leave a message or call Emergency Hot Line in case you have suicidal thoughts. No thank you, sure let me be responsible for busying the line while someone offs themselves, nice.
Call one Dr. leave a mess...receive a call back from his front desk saying he doesn't accept new patients...no referral either. OK.
Call another...$350 for the initial consult then $150 to $200 thereafter for 15 min sessions...WTF? Is there a happy ending included?! No thank you.
Drive by the Behavioral wing of the local medical center...they are inpatient only and do not take outpatients...no referral, girl had no idea of possible Drs. in the area...funfuckingtastic.
Call a counselor my friend recommended, doesn't take new patients and can't prescribe drugs (what fucking good are you?).
Call my general practitioner, she's booked. Marvelous.
Finally, come home, cry a tad about my dead dog, how hard it is to be temporarily insane and find help, about how lame I am and couldn't handle fostering puppy, that I bartend for living and still haven't written a book (since I out all my decent material here, I know if this is decent imagine my lame stuff); hug my dog whie he tried to escape, drive to the store, buy frozen brownies and chocolate hazelnut gelato. Bake brownies (gluten free, I know I am a lunatic), serve with a pint of gelato, consume, watch TV...manic episode over for now. (Saved about $340 in the process, not counting meds.)
Ain't life grand?!
Stay tuned. More madness coming soon.
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