A couple of weeks ago I found out that my internist is going to work for the V.A. I think it's admirable that she's willing to work with Vets, but she has been a very good medical professional for me. She knows me very well. She was the gate keeper, the nerve center, the one person who could tell me to call my shrink when I got too gloomy. She didn't nag me. She didn't judge me. She seemed to genuinely like me. I don't get that much. I know I'm not that easy to get, to like, to care about. I'm sometimes very prickly, impatient, irritable. Now I have to start with someone new, who hasn't read my fucking chart, who has no idea who I am or how I think, or what matters to me. She even shared my political passions. I've been sitting on this catastrophe as if it hasn't really happened or won't matter all that much, but today as I was filling my pill minder I saw that I was running out of Warfarin. I called in my refill but the pharmacy will need to contact my doctor to get more refills. And that's when it hit me. I've lost someone else who really matters in my life. Now I have to negotiate everything anew. Now I have to prove to someone else that my bipolar diagnosis isn't the totality of who I am. My bipolar disorder is a challenge but it doesn't explain everything. It's not the only reason I'm a difficult woman.
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