I'm not sad. I'm not desperate. I'm not Bridget Jones.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Whatever happened to "you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar?"
I had two very different patron experiences today.
First: a subscriber who had cancelled her ticket after the performance had passed, meaning that we could not resell her seat. When subscribers do that, they are able to exchange into a new performance for $3.00. Yes, $3.00. In essence, that is getting a ticket for professional theater, a ticket that retails for forty or fifty dollars, for three. Not bad. So, she picked up her ticket, made a face at the three dollar fee, but handed me her credit card and moved on. She came back, pushed a college kid out of the way as he was paying for his student rush ticket, and said "I'm a subscriber, I need you to deal with me before you sell student rush tickets." I told her that I was finishing a transaction with this party, and she needed to get in line, and I would be happy to help her when her turn was up. Because, if you push somebody in line, I am under no obligation to give you priority. So, when it was her turn: first she did not like her seat. As I was trying to tell her that I would be happy to move her, she interrupted and started in on the $3.00. I showed her a copy of the exchange policy. She denied ever seeing it, even after I pointed out that it was included in every subscription package. She then said that she knew she did not cancel her ticket on the same day, but that she did it in advance. Well, folks, computers don't lie. It was there: ticket for the 17th, exchanged on the 17th.I did not waive the fee.I did give her a different seat, only because her friend had the sense to be embarrassed.
Second experience: A young couple came to the window right after the house had closed. He had his invoice. He had ordered tickets online from a discount seller. Trouble was, he had ordered tickets for last Sunday. I pointed this out. He looked stricken. He asked if he could still buy tickets. I said we still had empty seats, and as the house had closed they weren't being sold anyway, so I would just have the house manager take them in.
The moral is: a little bit of good manners will get you much further than acting pushy and entitled.
My theater company is doing a pretty controversial play right now. It is probably the best play I've ever read. I will admit, hard to watch, but it is very good. Many people are offended by it. The best repsonse so far was "what is this, Of Mice and Men meets Kafka?"
It is really hard not to laugh sometimes, but somehow I knew if I did, it would just make the situation worse.
There are some serious problems with our health care system, as relates to mental health.
Case in point one: My boyfriend had a very good friend. I never met her, but knew of her through him. She was incredibly intelligent and driven, well-educated. She also had bi-polar disorder. Because she did not have health insurance, she was not able to afford the medication that would have controlled it. On May 31, she killed herself.
My recent trials: My anxiety slowly rose during the late spring, and then, at the end of June I had a 10 out of 10 panic attack. After that my anxiety kept rising. Finally, in mid-July, I left work early, then called in sick the next two days. I knew that I was relasping into Panic Disorder with Agoraphobia. I also knew that I needed help. Immediately. My mother said she would come down the next day, and bring me to the doctor.
Now, I did not health insurance. I would start my health insurance on August 1st, but I couldn't wait. I needed help then. So, I called the local community health center. Community health centers are for those who cannot afford health insurance. I was told that I needed to do an intake process, which mainly consisted of verifying income. I could get an intake appoint in about two weeks. After the intake, I would be able to start seeing a doctor or counselor in two weeks. Basically, I could get help in a month. "What if I need help now? What should I do?" They told me to go to the emergency room.
By the time my mother got to my apartment that day, my anxiety and panic was so bad that I was visibly shaking. The first thing she did was give me half an Ativan-equal to .25 mg. Ativan is an "as needed" anti-anxiety drug. It helps alleviate the physical symptoms of a panic attack. The last time I had a round of treatment for Panic Disorder, this was one of the drugs I was precribed. Of course, I am afraid of drugs, so was very reluctant to take it.
So, I took the Ativan ,which did help. Then we worked on a plan. I needed two things: some short term treatment so i could go back to work on Monday, and a long-term treatment plan.
It seemed like getting a precription for Ativan would be a good short-term fix, and getting into therapy was a good long term plan. Now, where to go? The health center told me to go to the emergency room, so we decided to go to the hospital nearest to me.
When we first got there, the intake nurse was wonderful. Kind, sypathetic, understanding. They pulled me out of the waiting area very quickly, assuming that I would be more comfortable in a bed. I then waited a really long time for a consultation with an MD. She did a pretty basic workup, listening to my heart, etc., then told me that the psychaitrist on duty would come see me.
Finally, that doctor came in and introduced herself as the psychiatrist on duty. She asked me a bunch of questions-clearly a basic screening for suicide and psychosis. Then she asked me to explain why I was there. I explained my history of Panic Disorder, and told hger that I had started having panic attacks again, and that I had missed the last two days of work, and that I felt that I was becoming Agoraphobic again and that I had to get back to work on Monday. She said: "Agoraphobic? What's that? I don't know what that means."
I said that I wanted to accomplish two things: get an "as needed" so that I could get to work on Monday, and get into therapy. She left, and said she would be back soon.
She came back and first said: "I don't think you need to be hosptialized." What?????? Of course I don't need to be hospitalized! She told me that, since I did not have health insurance, I would be able to get free therapy at the hospital's mental health center. Well, that's good. Then she gave me a precription. For Prozac, starting at 20 mg daily. Now, SSRI's such as Prozac can be of great help for anxiety and panic disorders. However, they a.) take at least a few weeks to start working and b.) need to be started at extremely low doses, as a too high dose can actually cause more anxiety and trigger even worse panic attacks. High doses-such as 20 mg. I expressed my concern about this, and she said "No, this is the dose you should start on." I then asked her about an as needed, and she said, "we don't like to prescribe those." I asked her how I was supposed to go to work on Monday. She said, if you take your first dose of Prozac on Sunday, you will feel better by Monday morning.
This is a flat out lie.
From WebMD: "It may take 4 weeks or longer before the full benefit of this drug takes effect. Inform your doctor if your condition persists or worsens."
From Prozac.com: "The first several weeks are the toughest because many (but not all) people are getting used to antidepressant medication and suffering the symptoms of depression at the same time. Until the patient feels the full effects of the antidepressant (this usually takes 4 or more weeks), even mild and temporary side effects may cause them to feel discouraged and stop taking their medication."
From MedlinePlus: It may take 4 to 5 weeks or longer before you feel the full benefit of fluoxetine.
Any medical professional should know better than to claim that one dose will make you feel better.
After crying and making a fuss, I left with a script for Ativan as well. I did not take the Prozac.
On Monday, I called the mental health clinic, and explained my trip to the ER, and that they said I could get free care. I was told that they never offer free care. If I wanted, I could pay out of pocket. I would need to start with an intake appointment. That would be $500. She also asked if I was taking the Prozac. I explained that I wished to be under consistant care beofre taking it, since i felt that the dosage was too high, and that I was concerned about the side effects of more panic and anxiety at that dosage level. I was told that if I did not take my medication, they wouldn't see me.
At this point, I was really skeptical about the whole experience. I looked up the psychiatrist from the emergency room. She's not a psychaitrist. She's an internist.
So, in seeking help, this hospital staff:
-misrepresented their qualifications -lied about the availibilty of continuing care -prescribed a drug at an inappropriate dosage* -lied about the action of the drug
What does this say about our health care system? I had the support of my family, and enough knowledge of my disorder to know that what was offered to me as care was dubious at best. What if a person with a mental illness sought help and was lied to and did not have the resources to seek alternatives?
*I have since been told my my psychologist who specializes in anxiety disorders; my psychiatrist who specializes in anxiety disorders; and the BU Center for Anxiety and Related Disorders, one of the most well-respected research faclities for anxiety in the country, that had I taken the Prozac at that dose, I most likely would have ended up in the ER with uncontrollable panic.
But I am going to try posting more again. It seems like it might be therapeutic. I really hit rock bottom at the end of July....the worst time was when I didn't even want to leave my bedroom for the kitchen. So, I guess I'm making progress!
I've been considering August 1 day one. That was the day that I went back to my full time job, this time with a 52 week contract. I've taken two sick days so far, but because I was genuinely sick-I'll spare the nasty details. The only time I've left early was for a doctor's appointment. I haven't been panicking at work, and I am going to therapy once a week.
Blogging again is for selfish reasons-it may help me see that I am making progress. Sometimes I feel as if I am banging my head against a wall.