I did see Angela on Wednesday. She’s the only therapist in the group showing up for appts. in person. So the receptionist was only coming in on Mondays, and working from home the rest of the time. She was there last Wednesday. And yesterday. I guess she turned my therapist in for not wearing a mask. And the group owner, boss, whatever, corporate, came down and told her she has to make all her patients wear masks.
I know I should be glad that I can see her at all. But I cannot do this mask thing. She put the thing on, and I turned away and wouldn’t look at her. I got to thinking about why I am so averse to the masks. In public they increase the hysteria. They make me nervous where I am really not nervous about the bug itself. But all these masks are definitely increasing my anxiety.
Long before Caronavirus, I told Angela that I have that white coat syndrome. So I am not just making excuses. I can walk into a doctor’s office with a broken arm and the moment I am there, all the pain goes away. All of it. I can literally not tell them where it hurts. I know I am afraid and that is trumping the pain. But what am I afraid of? I told my doctor what happened to me, so it is not like I am afraid that if they see me they will know. Or maybe it is. It is a phobia which is a unreasonable fear. I may have let her know from an adult perspective, but my inner-brat is functioning on its own level. I don’t know if it stems from the hospital stay when I was 4. I mean it was traumatic. I can remember a lot of it, but not the surgery at all. You might say, good, you aren’t supposed to remember surgeries. You are supposed to be under for surgeries. But, I have this habit of being very aware when I am supposed to be very much under. I can feel and hear what is going on, even if I cannot see or speak. It sucks. I wonder if that happened when I was four. It was an eye surgery, and I am deathly afraid of anything hurting my eyes. I don’t like going to eye doctors either. And I am diabetic, which means I am supposed to do that yearly. I don’t even though I should.
And a week or so ago, my regular doctor’s office reminded me of an appt. and told me to bring my card and list of meds, and that I would have to wear a face mask. I canceled my appt. My blood pressure soars waiting in the waiting room. I cannot imagine waiting in there in a mask.
I am trying to figure out this therapist relationship crap. I mean. We have to have a certain amount of safety/trust. And it isn’t a equal give/take of a friendship. The therapist is more on a parent/child or employer/employee or teacher/student type status. though it is none of those exactly. I mean, I care about her, but not like I would a friend or parent. But the fact of the matter is that she is a health care worker. But for me, I HAVE to block that thought in order to do anything at all. It is not like someone who is concerned with my diabetes, or my gall bladder. They are concerned with my brain, my emotions, my thoughts — how the core of me works. Which is damn intimidating when you think about it. You aren’t just having a conversation with your friend, you’re being analyzed. When I refused to look at her with her mask on, what is she thinking about me? What does this mean? Am I testing her? Am I reacting to something that happened decades ago?
If I think of her as a health care worker, than the idea that she is in it for the money, that is it. But it is not all of it. I have to believe she cares about me in order to share and work on the nitty gritty stuff. And yet, the hospital masks makes me, I dunno, just completely sterile and unconnected.
Covid is standing in the way of my healing. It’s pissing me off. I come home and Dad says, “2 more deaths today, in the county.” Well, hot damn! People die in this county every day from all kinds of crap. But he has to prove to me that this is such a big deal. I really don’t think it is. Not to the extent that we are acting about it.
Cujo2 got his death sentence. His blood work came back all good, no tick disease, no problem with his normal bloodwork, no heartworm, but he is obviously sick. The vet said in his 40 years of experience and in the other vet’s almost that, they agree that bloodwork like that and an obviously sick 7 year old shepherd, and it is cancer. Odessa is acting about the same, but she is 12.5 years. If she drops dead tomorrow, I’ll feel bad, but I won’t be surprised. Joy is going to be 11 in the end of July if she makes it that long. She is losing her back end bad, and well, I can see the end coming for her too. And I can’t take them in to put them down, I have to stay outside. This sucks. I want to be there for them. I don’t know how aware they are when they are under. If they are like me, it is very aware. Poor Cujo was so scared going into the office without me. That has never happened before. I hate, hate, hate, this bug!!!
I called my pastor the other day and asked when they are going to open the church up. He says 21 days after we have no new cases. That can be forever. My church family is gone. No connection there at all anymore. Now this crap with masks, I really don’t know. Things are supposed to be opening up, and I am just seeing more and more restrictions. What will the next week bring?