One day over the summer, I went to my regularly scheduled therapy session and we had a very good session. One of those sessions that reaffirms why I continue to give up an hour, plus travel time, every other week. Then, I was hit with the bombshell: “I’m letting all of my patients know that I’ll be leaving the practice in a few weeks.” I tried my best not to fall apart right there in the office, but inside I felt like Damon was on another one of his mean streaks and had his hand on my heart ready to rip it out just to show me he could if he wanted to. (That’s a Vampire Diaries reference if you don’t get it.)
This is my second therapist at this practice – my first one left shortly after I finished testing and was diagnosed with anxiety. She was leaving to finish her dissertation overseas. I cried. She recommended this therapist because he specialized in some of the areas that were triggering my anxiety. We got along great and I had been seeing him pretty much from diagnosis up until now – for more than a year. Together, he and I have made a lot of headway in managing my anxiety. And now, because of family reasons, he had to move back home and I had to start all over with someone else. I did not take this news well. I wasn’t sure I wanted to start over with a new person. What if we didn’t get along as well? What if having to rehash my history and certain situations/events caused me to regress and relapse?
I used the metaphor of burn wounds versus regular wounds to express how I was feeling to my therapist. I’m nowhere near a medical expert, but on Grey’s Anatomy, sometimes the burn patients have to endure these long treatments of pulling off the burnt skin so that the new skin can grow and they can heal properly. Judging from their screams, tears and cries, it’s soul-wrenching. On the other end, if you keep picking at a wound and don’t allow it to properly heal, infection can set in. So which one was I in this new instance – burn wound or infected scab picker? Only time would tell.
Just as I was starting to come around to the idea of having a new therapist (I decided not to quit therapy after a meet and greet with the new therapist – I liked her vibe), I received a phone call from the TDs’ pediatric clinic. Their doctor was leaving the practice and we would be seeing a new person for their upcoming doctor’s appointment. I tried to tell them I didn’t want to schedule an appointment with someone new without first talking to their doctor, but they weren’t trying to hear me. They told me a letter would be coming in the mail next week that explained everything and if I had more questions, I could call back. (It took more like a month and a half for that letter to arrive. It was a generic letter and didn’t explain much of anything.) I got off the phone and swallowed my tears.
I love the girls’ doctor. T-Daddy and I picked her out when we were pregnant with TD1, which means she has been in our life for five years, as a partner raising our daughters. We haven’t always been able to see her for impromptu visits, but every scheduled appointment has been with her. And when the girls were seeing someone else, she always made it a point to stop in and check on them. She answered every question we had as first- and second-time parents. She never forced a vaccine or procedure on us that we were uncomfortable with. She never judged our parenting methods (co-sleeping anyone??). She judged TD1 and TD2 by their own development curve and not some standard one-size-fits-no-one model. She trusted us and we trusted her. Our girls adore her. They look forward to seeing her every 6-12 months. That type of relationship isn’t built overnight.
One week – two relationships ended. Just like that. It became so clear to me very quickly how the relationships we form with our doctors can be just as real and impactful as those we form with friends and coworkers. We see them regularly. We entrust them with vulnerable parts of our lives and before we know it, a connection, a bond has been formed. And it hurts when that bond is broken.
My new therapist and I are getting along great. I trusted my old therapist when he recommended her and I think she’s in a position to offer me a unique and valuable perspective as I continue to manage my anxiety. The verdict is still out on the TDs’ new pediatrician. They have an appointment with her scheduled for this Friday, which we plan to use as our meet and greet since she was too booked to do it beforehand. But, T-Daddy and I are already exploring the option of finding a new clinic/office/hospital. We don’t particularly care for the hospital that their pediatrician worked out of, but we loved her so we stayed. Now that she’s no longer seeing them, we’re free agents, ready and willing to explore our options. It feels like we’re dating again – looking for the perfect doctor to be our partner in parentdom.