I was talking to Dr. Funny and I started crying. I just left because really, we were not getting anywhere, with me just crying non-stop. I cried on my way home, then cried during dinner, cried before going to bed, and cried a lot in bed until I decided I'd better let the spouse sleep and took my crying to the bathroom.
I kept crying and crying until at 1:30 I felt I needed to do somethig. Now, my insurance supposedly has a mental health specialist available at any time. I'd never tried them before. It seemed like a good time.
It turns out you don't get anywhere without first dealing with their automated system (which does not do well with foreign accents) and entering your policy number and your date of birth, then being put on hold for three minutes while you listen to recorded health advice (if you think you're pregnant, stop smoking and drinking alcohol) until after another five minutes or so you finally talk to a bored nurse who just wants you to go to the ER, and will not put you through with the mental health specialist until you beg and cry a little more, and then explains that she has to hang up and have someone from the mental health and substance abuse line call you. By the way, why do they call it the mental health AND substance abuse line? I'm not sure I like that they throw those two together.
Anyway, the mental health specialist was nice. The phone ringing woke up the spouse, but after sorting things out I finally had a compassionate human being on the line who listened to me go on and on about injections, infertility, getting stuff shoved into your vagina over and over, ovarian cysts, bloody periods, anemia, miscarriage, hormonal imbalances, six years trying to conceive, uterine malformations, being away from my family, and even the death of my dog more than a year ago.
She made me make a plan: Go back to my antidepressants and begin taking them ASAP. She kindly tried to find a nurse practitioner in my area who would prescribe them but had no luck. She told me NOT to go to the ER or urgent care (duh) but to try to get my PCP (Dr. Nice) to prescribe them without an appointment, even if the doctor who prescribed them last time was not him. Best of all, she gave me a 1800 number that will supposedly get me directly to the mental health line if I ever need to, which I hope I won't.
The plan was made, and she suggested I just have a glass of milk and go sit somewhere comfortable without even trying to go to sleep.
It worked. I cuddled with the yellow dog on the couch and before I knew it the sun was up and she was waking me up.
Dr. Nice is on vacation, but one of the other doctors in his office took pity on me and prescribed the antidepressants. I also called Dr. Funny, apologized for leaving and made another appointment for next week.
So that's the plan: Antidepressants and not making plans for now.