I received a phone call two days ago concerning a cancellation at a specialty clinic downtown. They asked if I could be there on Thursday, at 12:00 pm.
But first let me backup a sec.
This clinic caters to the general health needs of gay men and also their mental health needs with doctors of psychiatry on staff. For mental health issues they also include all of the Queer community, thank god, or we would be left out in the cold.
I was a bit hesitant to say yes when my family doctor told me about the clinic, since they cater to gay men primarily. The reason? It’s simple really, I find it uncomfortable to be sitting in a waiting room full of men. It’s a silly response for an old man really, but my distrust of “men” in general lies very deep I suppose.
My family doctor also works for a clinic that caters specifically to gay men. Surprisingly they seem to get things done fast, like meeting with the doctor doesn’t take long to book, and the same with many of the tests he orders up.
I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned my doctor goes with the pronoun “non-binary”, which is part of the reason I found him in the first place.
But the need for professional psychiatric help, and fighting this severe depression far outweighed the fear of men. I feared for my own life.
After pushing, okay begging, for mental health care for 3 years, I was finally referred to this clinic by my family doctor. I thought it would be months before I heard back, not just a few weeks.
The first phone call was less than a month later. They needed to verify my identity, interest in seeking help, any sense of urgency etc. I had been accepted on their waiting list. But to my disappointment I was told it might be a 1-2 year wait.
12 months. I can wait, it gives me another purpose. Maybe there’s some frigging chance still. At least I’m on a list?”
They let me know to look for an email. The normal “welcome”, with a secure link to verify I was who I was. They take confidentiality very seriously. The email also made mention of a questionnaire, and sure enough a link and password came to log on to a secure site to take a bit of a survey.
800 questions and 2 hours later…
“On a scale of 1 to 10 how miserable are you?”
“Are you…angry? sad? mad? depressed? manic or just plain at ease?
“Check the box if you have ever had any of the following 100 disorders”
Do I lie and tick box 10 for everything, or be as honest as possible? That’s the reason for so many questions. Actually, often it’s the same question rephrased 10 different ways. Makes it hard to lie when all they look for is trends.
That was 6 weeks ago at the most.
Then out of the blue, Tuesday. “Can you be here Thursday?”
My score must have moved me up the queue bit. I have no idea. Maybe the part about have you ever had suicidal ideations…
Hell that’s normal after Covid, isn’t it? Suicidal ideations. I think half the population is suicidal, or sure act like their lives are as miserable as mine. The other half are ready to kill it seems.
So I guess it’s not normal.
I’m now in an Uber at 11:00 am Thursday heading downtown.. For the second time in two days, a 12:00 pm initial meet and greet.
After not sleeping, eating and spinning in circles for a day, I’ve arrived with enough time to pump my lungs full of nicotine.
I don’t know what to expect, but was told it may take an hour and a half.
Five hours later…(to be continued) –