Dear Dalriada Doctor,
I am sorry I inconvenienced you today by phoning twice for a prescription I should have had the consideration to organise before the Easter holidays began.
But still, a bit of compassion and respect would have worked wonders, you know?
I get it.
You sounded bored and ready to go home.
Maybe the extra money you are getting for working on a public holiday does not make you happy.
Maybe you had been working from 9 in the morning and had had enough of snotty toddlers and drunk youths. Or maybe you were on call last night and you went to see a dying child in the hospice close by your practice. Possible.
But you don’t know my story.
You didn’t scroll long enough through my medical file to see that in July last year, my life changed into a nightmare forever.
I know, it’s been nine months and I should be “over it” by now. After all, my son was only a baby when he died, right, and I can always go and have another one. Like a puppy from a pet shop.
The truth is, and trust me, I did contemplate for a second sharing it with you over the phone, my life is as screwed up now as it was nine months ago.
I still wake up in the middle of the night. Almost every night.
I still forget loads of things. Like birthdays. Conversations. Coffee and lunch dates.
I am still grieving, you see.
Medically, there is nothing wrong with me.
I function, thanks to Fluoxedine and my daughter, who needs me every moment of every day.
But grief makes me forgetful and easily distracted and probably, as you said, disorganised.
I put my family first and end up exhausted and disheveled at the end of the day.
The little energy I have gets consumed easily with thoughts and tears and rage.
On a daily basis.
Yes, I didn’t realise I was running out of pills.
Yes, I should have planned better.
But I think, and correct me if I am wrong, your role there is not to admonish or deter patients but to serve.
I know, I know, I saw the new policy. Don’t use “emergency” services unless necessary.
I was not an emergency.
Not yet, anyway.
But tell me, should I have waited and taken myself off antidepressants and maybe end up jumping off a cliff?
I wouldn’t have been an emergency then either, because I would have been dead…
As I said, I am sorry I have inconvenienced you today.
I will make sure next time I will order my pills in time.
And I truly hope that you will never be at the receiving end of a Dalriada line…