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Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Going to the Doctor.

I adore my doctor. She is fantastic, caring, sweet, attentive, awesome. I'm pretty sure she's about my age, which makes me feel a little pathetic. But still. I've never had a physician that I actually think cares. But I really think she cares, and that's wonderful.

However. I still hate going to the doctor. Going to the doctor puts my problems right in front of my face. It's difficult to believe nothing's wrong when you're being told you need to be hospitalized. And that you WOULD be involuntarily hospitalized if there was an inpatient facility in the area. And that the ONLY reason you're NOT being admitted is because your doctor is smart enough to know that taking a pill to increase your heart rate for a few hours is NOT a solution.

"Camilla, you need to be in residential treatment. You're beyond Opal. You are dying."

Well, thanks for ruining my day.

"You EKG shows that your body is starting to eat your heart muscle."

Ok.

"You really really need to be in a facility."

I can't afford it. And I just don't care. I. Do. Not. Care.

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