i saw my therapist on tuesday

This week has gone by so fast. I told myself, “I’ll write this post as soon as I get home from the clinic.” But I was so tired by the time I got home, I didn’t care about the clinic, my blog, or much anything else. Miss Kitty was happy to take a nap with me. And then I kept thinking, “I’ll write it tomorrow.” And now tomorrow is today, which is Saturday. Where did this week go? Oh yeah. I’ve been writing, organizing, and have been reading Meg Cabot’s 1-800-WHERE-R-YOU series straight through (am on book four today; she’s the one who wrote all those Princess Diary books).

I remember thinking as I walked from the bus stop at Arby’s over to the next street to the clinic that I’d been going to that clinic for over a year now, and I’ve been seeing my particular therapist for right at a year. And soon, I’ll be slogging through the snow again to see her. This year really went quick!

One thing I like about my therapist is that when you go into her office, she has your file scattered all across her desk and a nice list of notes. She always adds to that list, every appointment.

The first thing we talked about, of course, was Thomas and how all that had gone. The last time I had seen her, he’d still been in UK Hospital. I told her how all that had turned out, and she was rightly appalled. Then we talked about finding a support group for parents/relatives of transplant recipients. She really couldn’t find anything on Google, so I said I will ask one of the social workers when Thomas goes back to transplant clinic on Monday. And I made myself a note in the notebook I carry in my bag so I don’t forget. Because I’m like that. I’d literally leave my head behind if it weren’t so firmly attached to my neck.

But I had told her everything I’d been feeling, all the stages and how they’d come along and how I’d handled them. She said she was proud of me – I’d done everything right all by myself! I told her I’d tried to get an emergency appointment with her the week after the horrific news had been delivered but that she’d been booked so solid I couldn’t have gotten edged in had it been a true emergency. She said, “My schedule is ridiculous.” No kidding. But she’s so good at what she does! I threaten now and then to switch over to UK Psychiatry because I don’t really care for her clinic, but at the same time, I don’t want to lose her. She’s fantastic.

So then we discussed my medications and how I’m doing on all of those, and she wrote me a handful of new prescriptions. I’m doing well with the Ritalin. Now and then it still makes me a bit jittery, but I really feel like that depends on how I’ve slept the night before. Sometimes I sleep like a log and others I toss and turn – despite everything I take to knock me out.

And we discussed my personal life and my love life and my writing life and how sales of the anthology are going and NaNoWriMo, etc, etc, etc. We talked about all of the Young Adult literature I’ve collected over the Summer and that I’ve read since then and about my latest project – which I must say is coming along nicely, if I do have to say so myself! And I’ll be going back to see her again on the Monday following Thanksgiving. I’ll have my list of stuff to discuss, and she’ll have hers, and we’ll meet somewhere in the middle just like we always do.

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Author: Mari Adkins

Appalachian gothic fiction writer - my works reflect a love of literature flavored by the darkness and magic residing in these ancient mountains. In my spare time, I'm a Simmer, I tumbl, I journal, but I always have a very strange sense of humor. I have lived away from the mountains and lived deep in the mountains. I currently live in Central Kentucky with my lifepartner and his cat. The mountains, their culture, their superstitions, their particular magics, will always be in my blood.