I saw my psychiatrist today for a medication management appointment.  Yes, Dr. Candy Crush, again. 

In her defense, she was actually pretty focused today.  

I attribute this mainly to the brevity of the appointment and the fact that I came straight in, disregarded the usual pleasantries, and immediately stated my request.  I’m growing fairly certain she’s ADHD.  

Source

Although, the perpetual communication breakdown probably lies with me.  I’m the patient and am therefore, the affected one.  

Hard-knuckling through a bi-monthly face-to-face of endless, repetitive droning about my *horrible life cognition* has got to be brutal, whether her time’s compensated or not.   I mean, who would sit, hands steepled, transfixed, while I regale them with fresh hell from neuron-to-synapse-to-mouth?

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