being a Head Doctor
you meet someone when they are at their very worst - you have no idea what they are like as a well, functioning, able person, making decisions for themselves, in control of the controllable aspects of their lives (which for each of us vary enourmously from day to day, season to season, year to year), feeling emotions within the range of what is considered to be normal. . .
I had a conversation with him this week about what is "normal"
I guess for anyone not in the care of a psychiatrist, it varies along a spectrum as well as day to day etc etc
I don't know what yours is, altho from reading your blog I have a vague idea about what you feel comfortable discussing in the private/public arena that a blog is, if you see what I mean - and again, everyone varies on that side of things
it would be tediously dull if you and I were just the same all the time
it is of concern that sometimes you are down, just as I know you are concerned when I am
but I suppose reading and writing anything is within one of the ranges of "normal"
when CH took me to see the WWW on New Year's Eve I was well off the scale and had been for a while; because she understands my "normal", she knew I most certainly wasn't
so she very WISELY instructed him to take me to see my GP, who wasn't available until a couple of days later (I spent a couple of days in bed, doing nothing - not normal for me AT ALL) - even then my GP wasn't available, but it turns out I met someone who has turned out to be great; he, my new GP, in his turn, knew that CH wasn't able to look after me in that "not normal" state properly and so I met the Head Doctor
I suppose one of my fears about breaking up with CH was that there would be noone to look after me if I was ever ill
I suppose my main fear would be that I will become ill with cancer, as my mother did (altho I trust this time her original symptoms would be diagnosed in me far quicker than they were with her when they finally realised what was going on and gave her six weeks to live)
I suppose it didn't even occur to me that I would become depressed again, that I might not even handle the solitude of a season very well on my own
I supposed a lot of things
the Head Doctor in his wisdom told CH to drive me straight to The Hospital without passing GO and without collecting any percuniary reward whatsoever
I am very fortunate to have a CH with private healthcare, to have a CH (ex tho he is), to have a CH that cares, to have a CH who cares at all for that matter - privately, publically, healthily or unhealthily
he dragged me kicking and screaming (not literally, actually, but there was a lot of resistance and a lot of wailing going on!) into The Hospital
yadda yadda yadda
so, this week, when the Head Doctor and I met altho I sat there sobbing for most of the time I think he recognised it as sobbing from one end of the spectrum of "normal" for someone who is rattling from all the marvellous medication I'm currently chucking down my throat at regular intervals during the day, but has benefitted from the advantageous advice he provides me with when I ring him up when I'm having a bad moment
the thin end. . .
. . .but it will thicken up
so CH is finally to become XCH, but since he is a excellent XCH he is going to buy the children and I a house to live in, rather than a small flat which is all I could afford on my own; it doesn't have a garden, ziggi and malc, but it has a rather sweet little courtyard where I can sit and snuggle with Small Person in my swing seat - perhaps even offer dash some cordial to go in a fizzy drink! - and a rather interesting roof-terrace where I will be at the same eye level as passing London Underground trains (on an overland bit!) and watch for Middle One and The Teen as they come home from school
I'm going to learn semaphore I think!