Happiness is not a warm gun, but a contact name. (Though I’d give ten quid to fire a few paintballs at my local doctor.)
I’ve just returned from the local clinic where I dropped off the name of someone I need to see in London. Since my doctor had never heard of Adult Attention Deficit Disorder before my visit and was giving me a hard time over the referral details, I decided to call the good people at Maudsley to see if they could offer me a specific name. I explained my predicament in about a sentence and a half. I was given a name right away. Now that impressed me.
The local surgery is great if you have a run of the mill cold, infection, or common ailment, but for mental illness the local GPs are woefully in the dark ages with knowledge. I want to be fair and say that they have plenty to worry about with the regular patients, but if this is the first stop before referrals then the GPs have much to learn. I don’t want his treatment, but to acknowledge a disorder exists isn’t much to ask I’d say. With luck, I’ve brought it to his awareness and maybe the next person brave enough to ask for help won’t be received so negatively for something that is beyond their control.
It’s just past 10 am. I’d say the day is going pretty well so far. I got the name, will have the referral, have done a load of laundry, took the massive amount of recyclables down to the community bins, and am feeling pretty damn good. I think cleaning up the flat is next on my mental list. I’ve let it go for days, so I’m gonna take advantage of this positive swing and do something with it.
Thank you Pete, Geneva, and everyone else who has offered help and guidance during this particularly black period.
You guys rock. Rawr!