So I had my doctor visit. Got my insulin and my pills. Came home and slept a lot. Sad to say after a full week on the pills and insulin I still feel like dreck. Honestly I’ve just been too depressed to post to this blog every day, let along promote the posts, reply to comments and be real sociable on Facebook, Twitter, etc.
I am thinking that next month when my Medicare starts I’m going to try to insist that my doc at the clinic send me to see a shrink, who will hopefully put me back on anti-depressants and an anti-anxiety medicine. I’ve long known of course that my bi-polar is cyclical. and I also realize that I was manic for a long, long stretch. Yet this damned depression seems to be hanging on for freaking forever and I am growing very weary of it.
And yet, I try so hard to hang on to hope. Hope that some day in the not too distant future that I will be able to get all of the medicines I need to keep me well. That some day I will again feel real joy in my every day activities. That the day may come when I can read a newspaper and not fly into a blinding rage at people who politically oppose health care reform and civil rights. Yet I fear, as Supertramp sang in their song Rudy, “…that it may come too late. Too late.”