Be Vwery, Vwery Qwiet...
The men-in-white-coats are getting closer....
Thanks to the diagnostic tools of the DSM-IV, my therapist has concluded that I am showing signs of a bipolar disorder. On Tuesday night, she referred me to a psychiatrist for confirming diagnosis, medication, and further treatment.
On Wednesday morning, like every good patient taking charge of their own health care, I called my PPO with the list of psychiatrists my therapist gave me - not one of those 4 were on the approved provider list.
I got in to the office and searched the PPO's website for local psychiatrists. There are none in the town where I live. None in the next town, or the next town after that.
There were two doctors listed near my office. I called the first office, and was informed that I would:
a) have to be rescreened by one of their clinic psychologists (burning up one more of my rapidly dwindling stash of pre-authorized mental health visits),
and
b) still wouldn't be able to see the psychiatrist for another 3 months(!).
I went back to the computer. This time, I widened my search out 20 miles. Oh, I got doctors: I called 15 of them. Nine weren't accepting new patients. I had to leave voice mail for the remaining six.
Twenty-four hours went by. Not one call back. So, on my therapist's advice, I called my PPO again, and this time told them it was their problem - fix it. I guess I sounded just crazy enough, because they agreed to forward my case on to the "Special Handling Team" (I assume that is code for "we handle the really crazy ones"). So, would I be transferred over to a specialist on that team? Nope, the rep just took down some notes and e-mailed them to the SHTs, who would take 24 hours just to acknowledge receipt of my case.
After some screeching, phone slamming, and curses, I bundled myself off to lunch. Just as I pulled into the grocery store parking lot, my phone rang. One of those 6 doctors I left voice mail for passed my message along to another associate in his office. She called me back to say she could take me on, and if I felt that strongly, she could make time for me tomorrow. I said, "Hallelujah!"
I skipped back to the office and somewhat naively picked up the phone to call my PPO. Oh, silly me. When I finally got through to a phone rep, she informed me that due to a "high volume" of calls, she would have to take a message and someone would get back to me in 24 hours. I said, "But, I've got an appointment tomorrow! I need to know if the doctor is on the approved provider list, and I need to get a new authorization, and I need to cancel the SHT!"
She said sorry.
I said, give me a supervisor. She said (gladly), "Just a moment."
After about 10 minutes on hold, she came back to tell me she was sending her notes to her supervisor, and that Emily the supervisor would call me back within 1 hour.
I hung up and cried.
But, lo and behold, Emily did call me back. In twenty minutes, no less. But ruined it all when she started the call with, "There is really nothing I can do."
I explained how I had been playing by the rules, I'd already done my part, I just wanted the PPO to do theirs. Something must have gotten through, because she looked up the doctor for me. Only to tell me, "She's not in the network. She is in the process of being approved, but until she actually is, her services will not be covered."
I sputtered, I screeched, I pleaded, but to no avail. But somewhere in there, I must have hit a key word, because what she did do was transfer me to one of their please-don't-do-anything-rash-while-on-the-phone-with-us-'cuz-that-would-be-bad-publicity telephone therapists. And I must have used the right words with him, because he promised to have the SHT mark my file "urgent" (code for "she could go off at any moment", I assume). But it would still take 24 hours for them to acknowledge my file.
So, somewhere out there (hopefully), some poor SHT-schmo is clutching his approved physicians directory; madly searching for the one doctor in the network who is taking new patients; praying I can hold it together until he can get me an appointment.
So, here I sit, wondering what bipolar disorder actually is. Is it any worse than plain old depression? Does it explain anything about me?
Despite the title of this blog, I don't hear voices (just my own, telling me stories in my head, writer-style, not crazy-style), and I don't have delusions. I just have a really difficult battle with depression, and every once in a while, I develop the Low Self Esteem Woman's version of a God Complex: I post on blogs, when I'm usually too shy to speak in public, I ask for bonuses when I usually get tongue-tied just listening to the boss talk about a raise, and I think I can conquer the world (or at least finish that amazing novel that has been circling 'round in my head for the last three years).
I get tons of energy, and I write pages and pages of stuff (really sharp, witty, insightful stuff I'd never been able to write before). And I clean and I organize and try new things and I start newer, bigger, better, craft projects.
And then, somewhere in there among all that good stuff, it starts to turn sour. This new craft project, this new idea, this new chore, the fast, decisive way of thinking - it all starts coming too fast. I find myself suddenly surrounded by ten, twenty different projects that have only just been started and none finished. My fast thoughts become too fast...I can't keep up. And it all goes to heck. And that is enough to spiral me back to depression.
So, here's to hoping the book I picked up at the store helps me start to figure this out. Enough to give me some feeling of control until I can get in to see that psychiatrist they've promised me.
Consumer-directed health care, my a**.
Thanks to the diagnostic tools of the DSM-IV, my therapist has concluded that I am showing signs of a bipolar disorder. On Tuesday night, she referred me to a psychiatrist for confirming diagnosis, medication, and further treatment.
On Wednesday morning, like every good patient taking charge of their own health care, I called my PPO with the list of psychiatrists my therapist gave me - not one of those 4 were on the approved provider list.
I got in to the office and searched the PPO's website for local psychiatrists. There are none in the town where I live. None in the next town, or the next town after that.
There were two doctors listed near my office. I called the first office, and was informed that I would:
a) have to be rescreened by one of their clinic psychologists (burning up one more of my rapidly dwindling stash of pre-authorized mental health visits),
and
b) still wouldn't be able to see the psychiatrist for another 3 months(!).
I went back to the computer. This time, I widened my search out 20 miles. Oh, I got doctors: I called 15 of them. Nine weren't accepting new patients. I had to leave voice mail for the remaining six.
Twenty-four hours went by. Not one call back. So, on my therapist's advice, I called my PPO again, and this time told them it was their problem - fix it. I guess I sounded just crazy enough, because they agreed to forward my case on to the "Special Handling Team" (I assume that is code for "we handle the really crazy ones"). So, would I be transferred over to a specialist on that team? Nope, the rep just took down some notes and e-mailed them to the SHTs, who would take 24 hours just to acknowledge receipt of my case.
After some screeching, phone slamming, and curses, I bundled myself off to lunch. Just as I pulled into the grocery store parking lot, my phone rang. One of those 6 doctors I left voice mail for passed my message along to another associate in his office. She called me back to say she could take me on, and if I felt that strongly, she could make time for me tomorrow. I said, "Hallelujah!"
I skipped back to the office and somewhat naively picked up the phone to call my PPO. Oh, silly me. When I finally got through to a phone rep, she informed me that due to a "high volume" of calls, she would have to take a message and someone would get back to me in 24 hours. I said, "But, I've got an appointment tomorrow! I need to know if the doctor is on the approved provider list, and I need to get a new authorization, and I need to cancel the SHT!"
She said sorry.
I said, give me a supervisor. She said (gladly), "Just a moment."
After about 10 minutes on hold, she came back to tell me she was sending her notes to her supervisor, and that Emily the supervisor would call me back within 1 hour.
I hung up and cried.
But, lo and behold, Emily did call me back. In twenty minutes, no less. But ruined it all when she started the call with, "There is really nothing I can do."
I explained how I had been playing by the rules, I'd already done my part, I just wanted the PPO to do theirs. Something must have gotten through, because she looked up the doctor for me. Only to tell me, "She's not in the network. She is in the process of being approved, but until she actually is, her services will not be covered."
I sputtered, I screeched, I pleaded, but to no avail. But somewhere in there, I must have hit a key word, because what she did do was transfer me to one of their please-don't-do-anything-rash-while-on-the-phone-with-us-'cuz-that-would-be-bad-publicity telephone therapists. And I must have used the right words with him, because he promised to have the SHT mark my file "urgent" (code for "she could go off at any moment", I assume). But it would still take 24 hours for them to acknowledge my file.
So, somewhere out there (hopefully), some poor SHT-schmo is clutching his approved physicians directory; madly searching for the one doctor in the network who is taking new patients; praying I can hold it together until he can get me an appointment.
So, here I sit, wondering what bipolar disorder actually is. Is it any worse than plain old depression? Does it explain anything about me?
Despite the title of this blog, I don't hear voices (just my own, telling me stories in my head, writer-style, not crazy-style), and I don't have delusions. I just have a really difficult battle with depression, and every once in a while, I develop the Low Self Esteem Woman's version of a God Complex: I post on blogs, when I'm usually too shy to speak in public, I ask for bonuses when I usually get tongue-tied just listening to the boss talk about a raise, and I think I can conquer the world (or at least finish that amazing novel that has been circling 'round in my head for the last three years).
I get tons of energy, and I write pages and pages of stuff (really sharp, witty, insightful stuff I'd never been able to write before). And I clean and I organize and try new things and I start newer, bigger, better, craft projects.
And then, somewhere in there among all that good stuff, it starts to turn sour. This new craft project, this new idea, this new chore, the fast, decisive way of thinking - it all starts coming too fast. I find myself suddenly surrounded by ten, twenty different projects that have only just been started and none finished. My fast thoughts become too fast...I can't keep up. And it all goes to heck. And that is enough to spiral me back to depression.
So, here's to hoping the book I picked up at the store helps me start to figure this out. Enough to give me some feeling of control until I can get in to see that psychiatrist they've promised me.
Consumer-directed health care, my a**.
posted by Cary at 7:45 PM
3 Comments:
dear cary, I DO hope you get some help soon. Sometimes I think that red-tape is going to tie everyone up and not let them do anything helpful. I know peopple who get depressed [not bi-polar] and the worst part is they don't realize they need help until they are too far down.
Good luck with getting help. I Wish You Well
I hadn't realized you were so close either. I live right on the border between Beaverton and Hillsboro (Beaverboro?). My health crisis was caused by an MD giving me medicine that caused a bad reaction. Got so sick from trying to deal with the System that I went outside of it to see that ND in McMinn, who essentially cleared the problem up within two weeks.
My personal theory is that these health "care" corporations have a lot of stock in companies that make things like Prozac and that's why they try to increase Prozac sales with their behavior. I have to say, SHT sounds like the perfect acronym for these health "care" people. After dealing with people like that, I just want to put the phone down and hug my dog.
Cary,
I just found your new blog and wanted to offer my support. My ex-girlfriend is Border Line Personality Disorder, which is not quite the same thing but similar enough that she was misdiagnosed for a time. I can't pretend to understand the "feelings" you go through, but I can understand the havoc it makes in your life. Best of luck to you, and try to remember the CBs when you're in a down spiral... they have shovels and can help dig you out.
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