She said my case had pushed her to the brink and it was either quit, or commit suicide. "Chicken," I said.
Ha, no. She is retiring, but as she put it "because she'd been promoted to grandmother." She sent all of her clients a letter last month and gave us six months notice. She was so generous with the notice time because she acknowledges the psychiatric shortage in our area. I saw her yesterday, Feb. 3, probably for the last time, although a May appointment was scheduled for me, she wants me seeing a different mental health care provider by then.
When I told her I hadn't made an appointment with anybody yet, she pulled out a printout and circled some doctors' names, and crossed out others. The third psychiatrist she recommended for me was "telepsychiatry." I never heard of it before.
It looks a little odd, but I think I could get used to it. Being the provider, I mean.
It'd be cool to have, like, Alfred Hitchcock for a telepsychiatrist.
I'm willing to try it to see if it helps. I'd better see the same shrink every time, or fuck that shit. That would seem like customer service more than healthcare provision.
Soon, we'll be talking to robots instead of humans. Maybe we already are.