The Kit Kat Club

There is really no song lyric in my iTunes fit to be the subject header for this post about the epic clusterfuck that was today.

First of all, I fell back into some old, stupid habits that I'm trying to shake: last night, I slept from about 9:30 pm to 1:30 am. I woke up and did my homework and watched an episode of The L Word, then went back to sleep for another 2 hours or so before I had to go to class. Needless to say, I'm not very well-rested -- that is not an effective sleep schedule.

Classes, blahdeblah. I missed Econ in favor of attending my first meeting with a psychiatrist here. I'm switching my medication management to Oberlin for the sake of simplicity. Here's where things get more interesting: I met this doctor for the first time, and, less than an hour later, she's decided we're going to QUADRUPLE my Prozac dosage.

Now, admittedly, quadrupling it only brings it from 10 mg to 40 mg. But it's...a fairly drastic change all the same. And I've always, always been wary of doctors who diagnose and treat mental disorders before they really get to know the patient. But she's the expert; maybe she thinks I need it. Her logic, though, was strange: "10 mg is such a low dose, it's probably not doing anything for you. We're going to get you up to a more standard dose of Prozac." She's the first doctor I've seen who didn't favor going in the direction of weaning me OFF the Prozac altogether.

I don't know how I feel. I guess I'll try it but...I wasn't expecting to become MORE dependent on medication. I've been medicated for so long, I kind of forget what it feels like not to be >.>

Here's where things get clusterfucky. Cut for length. ( I was sitting in Wilder Bowl with Ma'ayan and enjoying the beautiful weather when my phone rang. )

At any rate, I spent the day inside panicking about this instead of enjoying the BEAUTIFUL weather outside. Fail.

Misc. notes:
I think, actually, my favorite part of my phone call with the guy from Gold Key was how he claimed I should have known all this; "it was all on the form you signed at the hospital." Dude, I was strapped to a gurney AND I JUST BROKE MY LEG, I WAS SIGNING WHATEVER THE FUCK THEY WANTED ME TO SIGN.
And when my mom talked to him, he was apparently a total "dickwad" (her words, not mine) to her as well. So I guess it's not personal. Still, people who make their living making other people miserable...I hope karma bites him in the ass, and soon.