My New VA Psychiatrist

For the few of you that are also on my Facebook page, you know I had an appointment with a new psychiatrist recently at my local VA. The reason anyone knows about it is because I posted my displeasure with the new psychiatrist there. At the end of the appointment, I left unsatisfied and wondering if she really cared or if she was just checking the boxes. I know for sure, she gets paid no matter how I feel when I leave her office. I think it was a waste of my time.

The main thing that upset me was the changes she made to how I get my medication. First, let me back up. A while back they gave me a prescription for a 30-day supply of my medications, but made my next psych appointment 50+ days out from that. I had to ration my medication so I wouldn’t be without them for too many days in a row before I could get them refilled. I would always get a paper prescription and take it to the base to be filled. It’s a process that has been working for a long time. It’s flawless. That process has never failed.

My new psychiatrist says I can now only get my medications through the VA. Well, one of them, which they keep in stock at my local VA, only comes in twice the dosage I take. Now I have to cut the pill down every night, whereas from the base, I can get it in my prescribed dosage. Not a huge deal, but still annoying, especially since I’m not fond of change when something has been working for as long as it has. That might be the PTSD coming out in me, I don’t know. The other medication is NOT kept onsite. They would have to mail it to me. I’m already out of it by the time of my appointment, and now I must wait up to ten days to get it in the mail. How does that help?

My new psychiatrist told me the reason she wants to change how I’ve been getting my medication for over a year is so that she can have control over it. She also mentioned that I would have to be at my house to sign for the medication when it arrived, although the postal service may allow another adult to sign for it, she didn’t know. It is a controlled substance. But that didn’t work. The postal service let my 13-year-old daughter sign for it. Tell me how much control the new psychiatrist has over that? Please explain to me how the way she wants it done is better than me taking a paper prescription straight to the base and getting my meds the same day, without a controlled substance being signed for by a 13-year old?

I plan on bringing all that up at my next appointment with her. And I may have already made a formal complaint about it before then. This is one of the reasons I find the VA so frustrating. Why fix something that isn’t broken when there are so many broken things they should fix? Why change something that has been working without fail and create a process that I am not comfortable with? She cared more about controlling my medications than she did about what was going on in my life, or at least that’s what I believe to be true. That’s how she made me feel.

That’s my frustration with the VA for the week. On a lighter note, the AMAs I’ve been hosting seem to be going well. I found out there was a glitch in the way they counted RSVP participants, so last week when I thought I was up to 500+, it ended up being a little more than 100. They fixed it and the numbers are now accurate. I’m still happy about all of it. I’m amazed by the number of people that take the time to ask me questions on there. The site I’m doing the forums on is still very new and will only continue to grow. And I’m getting paid to do it. I love that part. Go check out my next one if you want. And RSVP to it when you get there to help my numbers if you feel so inclined. And, ask a question. That’s the whole purpose of the AMA anyway. Hope to see you there.

https://militaryama.com/during-my-two-deployments-one-to-iraq-and-one-to-afghanistan-my-camera-took-158812/

That’s all I got for the week. Thanks for listening me to vent about the VA. I’ve said many times that all the good doctors leave the VA for better jobs. My new psychiatrist will probably be there forever. But anyway, Good day, God bless.

Dave

And Then There is Paul

I was sitting in the patient waiting area at the local Veterans Affairs Clinic to get refills written for my prescriptions. They were getting low and I didn’t have enough to make it to my next appointment. They have always been good about writing refills for my drugs between appointments, even when I wait until the last minute. Of course, I had to sit and wait since I didn’t have an appointment, which is fine. I have to do it this way a couple times a year. No big deal. One day, maybe I’ll get my medications and my appointments synched up and not have to get refills written between appointments. I’m sure that takes more planning than I want to do right now, though.

While waiting, I watched a number of patients get called for their appointments. The nurse that was in charge of doing their vitals, as well as height and weight, seemed to have a chip on her shoulder for some reason. Her demeanor and body language actually made her seem like she was in a pissy mood. She just didn’t look like she wanted to be there. But for those of us that deal with the VA regularly, we know all too well about those people.

From where I was sitting, I heard a Viet Nam-era veteran complaining to a clerk about that nurse. He went on about how he shouldn’t have to be treated like that. I’m not sure what she did or said to him, but he was not happy. Another patient, a man closer to my age, in his mid-40’s, was also offended by the cantankerous nurse.

I heard the ‘mid-40’s’ veteran tell the clerk as he checked in that this was his first time going to the VA and that he didn’t know what to expect. All I could think was, “Welcome to the VA, buddy. Get used to not knowing what to expect.” But I digress. Shortly after he entered the secured door where he would have his vitals checked, the door re-opened and he was coming out, seemingly trying to ask the nurse a question. Her response, which she said twice while pointing down the hall, was “Someone else.” He turned back to her as he exited the door and said, “Kick rocks.” I’m not quite familiar with that term, but I believe it’s a politically correct way to say, “Go **** yourself.”

I watched the ‘mid-40’s’ veteran go to the opposite side of the waiting area away from the door to Nurse Difficult’s chambers. I recognize the look on his face and the stare in his eyes. He was wondering if she was worth jail time and also trying to calm himself down. I know that feeling all too well. A minute or two later he came back and approached the clerk, explaining again that this was his first visit to the VA and he didn’t know what happened, that she had simply become problematic during his check in. Welcome to the VA, buddy.

Not all VA employees are like that nurse. But it only takes one or two people like her to make the whole VA experience an appalling reality. And then there is Paul. Paul is the clerk that helped me this week to get my prescriptions refilled and was also the clerk that checked in the ‘mid-40’s’ veteran for his appointment. I remember the first time I met Paul. I’m sure he doesn’t remember me since he deals with hundreds of veterans a week. But I will never forget the day I met him.

I had two main conditions when getting released from the hospital in 2015 after my failed suicide attempt. One, to go to a specified local mental health outpatient clinic to sign up for six weeks of group therapy. And, second, to go to the VA for ongoing treatment. I pulled into the parking lot of the VA at 4:28 PM. They hadn’t locked their doors yet and I was able to get inside. If you are familiar with the VA, once 4:30 hits, you can forget it. The world for them stops and you no longer matter or exist.   However, Paul apparently didn’t adhere to that train of thought.

Paul was the only clerk at a window that day. I approached him and briefly explained my situation. I’m sure I sounded like a nut-case, and maybe that helped in this instance, I don’t know. But Paul stopped what he was doing and made sure that I could get my medications and set up an appointment for me with Mental Health. First, he called the psychiatrist’s office to make sure the prescriptions could be transcribed to VA prescriptions so it could be filled on the spot. Then he made sure someone would be in the pharmacy to fill the prescriptions. After that he made a future appointment for me to see the psychiatrist. All of this was done after Paul was supposed to be able to tell me they were closed and I should come back the next day. Paul didn’t care about what time it was. Paul was helping a veteran that had just been released from a psych ward. To him, that was far more important than quitting time. Or at least, that’s how he made me feel.

In my dealings with all of them, there are only a handful of VA employees that are like Nurse Difficult. But like I said, it only takes one or two of them to ruin the whole experience and give the veteran a feeling of hopelessness when dealing with the VA. And then there’s Paul. Paul is the personification of what a VA employee should be. We need more people like Paul. I’m thankful I met him. I’m thankful he was working at the VA the day I got out of the hospital. He made a difference in how things could have gone that day, which, at the time, made a difference in my life. And he probably has no idea.

To Nurse Difficult, kick rocks, bitch. To Paul, thank you, keep doing what you’re doing. And to those of you who are going into the VA system for the first time, be patient. I know it’s hard. I really do. I almost got removed by security once a while back at the VA. It wasn’t pretty. But be calm and outlast them, like we did the enemy. And to the ‘mid-40’s’ veteran who was there for the first time, good job, bro. You handled it well.

Thanks for reading Story of My Life this week. Good day, God bless.

Dave

related posts to this one:

https://storyofmylife.blog/2016/06/25/breathe-in-breath-out-if-you-can/

https://storyofmylife.blog/2016/10/08/the-va-is-killing-me/

https://storyofmylife.blog/2016/08/20/the-storm/