I just mass replied to so many of you. Thanks for being such awesome readers and still commenting even though I wasn’t able to reply on the previous posts (and all done-ish!).
Yesterday Mom fooled me and Dad intro going to Granny’s pretty early so she could spend time there. It’s pathetic that Mom has to manipulate us to go there because Dad’s nuts. But whatevah!
We went to the clinic and sat there WAITING for the doctor to come This happens a lot. The doctor says he will come at one time and has us waiting for 1-2 hours. So we sat there for 2 hours until the doctor came and by then it was 9 PM. And remember how I said the doctor had a screw bigger than mine loose in his head? Here’s why:
1. He spent an hour and a half on ONE patient! I mean, it’s not like there can’t be another session for the patient! And there were people who even came from really far away, like me, to come here. And going out late at night in this country is dangerous for anyone!
2. Without EVEN speaking to me, he decided I didn’t need counseling but rather needed medicine. At first the doctor spoke only to Mom alone before meeting me and just during that time, he decided I needed medicine. Without even MEETING me! And this was a doctor only rich people and people who gave up home on other doctors and had to save the money for him came to!
But I think the first two were enough.
When Mom came back and told me he said I didn’t need talk-therapy, I just boiled in anger. I couldn’t sit down patiently. I got up and walked around the hallway and didn’t have to deal with some men staring (who did initially when I came in) as there was a game on the T.V they were too engrossed in. I told Mom I HAD to get off my pills. I just NEEDED to. And I came all the way were and put my parent’s money on this crap not for something I didn’t ask for.
So after another 30 minutes because there was a mental patient going nuts in the hospital the doctor needed to attend to, we went in his little room.
I WILL get talk-therapy. I WILL.
So after parents were blubbering away about my low concentration for studies I requested them to go out of the room so I could talk privately. And so they did.
And then I cried. I bawled. I. JUST. CRIED. Uncontrollably. For a few minutes. And then I just let out all the crappy-but-true contents of my mind and hoped the doctor actually considered therapy and tried counseling me.
“I am crying because I had to send my parents out of the room,” I said, “And I didn’t want them to hear about the problems I had”.
And NOW he got into the counseling mode.
“What about it that makes you cry?”
“I just don’t want to disappoint them and let them know I have problems”,
“What problems do you think you have?”
I had to stop. I didn’t know where to start. And it was like he actually read my mind then.
“You can’t say…because you aren’t sure where to start right?” (This guy may be nuts but I could see why people would come from so far to see him)
“Well, how about we start with what just happened now. Why do you think you will disappoint your parents by sharing your problems with them?”
I stopped again to think. I came up with the simplest answer.
“I don’t want to make them sad!” I bawled (I am laughing as I write this, LOL! I need to be nicer to myself xD)
“OK,” he nodded.
“I want to be perfect. I want to be able to focus on my studies. I just can’t anymore. I can’t focus on anything!”
It was going well…until..
“OK, Mon,” he said EXTREMELY gently, “But you did take medication before you gave your O’ Levels right?”
Great. I cried. I opened my heart to a complete stranger. And instead of helping me to find resolution with why I feel the way I do, he wants to numb me up with anti-depressants.
“Yes,” I said, pretending like I didn’t know what was coming.
“So your medication DID help you? It helped you to focus!”
“No. I don’t believe it was my medication,” I said very nicely, very politely while anger boiled in me. “I meditated a lot. I tried to give myself self-therapy. I tried to think positively. I did a lot of things”
“Yes, and OF COURSE THOSE helped,” he said and I could see the disagreement in his facial expression which he was trying very hard not to show, “But you don’t see it. As soon as your medication supply lowered, you have started having THIS problem”.
He then spent the next 30 minutes trying to convince me to (not care about absolving my childhood abuse, which I talked to him about but) medicate myself numb from any feelings. And I refused every single f*cking time. But that wasn’t going to work. There I was, sitting with a tissue full of my tears in hand, requesting him to just TALK. And he was there trying to find the easy way out. He is BOTH a councilor AND a psychiatrist, but he was leaning more towards psychiatry even though we paid him for counseling.
It was getting pretty obvious he was reluctant to help and he knew I didn’t agree with him (obvi-f*cking-ously). So he said, “Shall we bring in your parents?”
“Do I look like I cried?” I responded.
“No,’ he said. I rubbed my eyes with the tissue just in case and said, “OK, bring them in”.
He then f*cking gave my parents a f*cking prescription for some f*cking mental medication. And then he (politely) shooed us away because he spent almost all his fu*cking time on two patients because of his loose screw which kept jiggling all throughout our “session”
Know what else?
He took BOTH the money for counselling (as if) AND for the prescription (which we didn’t ask him for). My poor father gave this man 6000 f*cking moolah of taka.And that made me feel EVEN worse. I came all the way here to make my Dad lose money for no reason. And as we got back Mom told me to take my medication. I refused. I said I wasn’t going to take any new medicine until I got a REAL councilor. Mom tried to convince me until Dad sided with me and then she stopped.
So there you have it folks The mental patient’s medical system in Bangladesh.