Que Sera, Sera

or whatever will be, will be.

Doing my best to move on in a post-Dr. Awesomesauce world, I did exactly what I said I would do and called the county mental health department last week. I was immediately encouraged by the attitude of the receptionist, whose voice was cheerful and who seemed very interested in what I had to say, and by the intake coordinator who called me back the next morning. They’ve already found a therapist to work with me, and while I won’t be able to see an actual prescriber till March, I think Dr. A will continue with medication management until then.

That’s not to say I’m not devastated at losing him. I’ve shed more than a few tears and I wish I could go back for one more session just to say good-bye and have closure. Besides…what other doctor will treat me like I have a brain, diseased though it may be? Will I find another mental health provider who will serve as my cheerleader, my advocate, my r0ck? And who on earth is going to tease me endlessly about that ridiculous yellow toucan shirt?

I guess I’ll have to settle for sending him a Thank You card with a few well-chosen words of gratitude for taking such good care of me and for the time he literally saved my life. It seems so inadequate; he gave me almost four years of sage advice, careful medication adjustments, and a million and one laughs. But what must be, must be, and I’m going to have to make the best of it.

This is a far cry from where I was even a year ago. Then, these events would probably have destabilized me to the point that I would’ve needed intensive crisis management…maybe not like I did when I was hospitalized, but I would not have done well at all. Just the idea of losing Dr. A used to inspire panic whenever he’d make noises about leaving the clinic to devote full time to his private practice; once, I went into a horrific mixed episode after he told me that. Maybe it’s just that I’ve seen this coming for a couple of years now and it’s not a shock anymore…the only surprise was the way it happened. But I’m going to be OK, even though the ground is definitely shifting under my feet and I don’t know what my mental health care is going to look like from here on out.

And it is the uncertainty that weighs most heavily. I could end up with some jerk who messes with my meds and screws me up royally. I could end up with someone who’s in it just for the paycheck and doesn’t give a damn about the patient. But I could also end up with someone who’s just as wonderful in their own way as Dr. A is in his…which of course is what I hope and pray for. I have come to the realization that my mental health is the most important thing in my life, for without it, I can’t manage my life.

I’ve got my intake appointment on Wednesday. Wish me luck!