Imagine my surprise as I sat down in my psychiatrist's office this morning, shook his hand, and he smiled warmly.
"How many Klonopin do you need this month?" he asked.
"Twenty," I replied.
He proceeded to write my prescription for it with no further questions. I thought I would have to grovel and beg and prostrate myself upon the floor.
We talked a lot of my schizophrenia and my current symptoms -- symptoms which I rarely reveal on this blog these days. My main problem these days is dealing with anxiety and paranoia. My doctor upped my Risperdal Consta some and added on another 50 mg of Luvox.
"You handled that like an adult," Dad told me as we were walking out. "I didn't have to say a word."
"Thanks," I replied, thoroughly pleased at my father's positive affirmations.
Me and Dad talked a lot of Mom on the way home. The way she used to be, and how she is now.
"She's like a different person," I told Dad.
"You two always fought like cats and dogs, and now she is your most staunchest supporter." Dad replied.
I enjoyed the time spent with my father this morning. Our relationship is a direct reflection of my sobriety. The longer sober I go, the closer we get. I felt blessed today --blessed for all I have and blessed to have such a caring family.