How God Works

        God works miracles.  Creating the universe out of nothing.  Saving Creation from self-destruction with the Flood.  Leading His people through the Red Sea, parting the waters on either side.  Turning a lame beggar into a dancing, praising fool for Christ. These are just God’s special effects, though.  God’s real miracles happen on a daily basis, when people respond to His call. 

           Yesterday, I wrote about my struggle with my current psychiatrist (”My Psychiatrist is an Idiot“).  After writing this post, I did some more research on Seroquel and found out there are numerous lawsuits pending from patients and their loved ones with a history of diabetes who had taken the drug and either become comatose or died. 

           I also discovered that in Japan, large warning labels are required to be posted on Seroquel to this effect (the drug companies in the U.S. have successfully bucked it).

            Exasperated, I called my sister, who is a nurse working with psychiatric outpatients.  She knows a good bit about drugs.  It wasn’t quite 7 a.m..  I think I got her out of bed, but she didn’t let on.

{artist’s rendering of my sister waking up} 

PP:  Hey sis.  I hope I didn’t wake you up.

Sis:  No.  No.  I’m out of bed.

PP:  I just have to tell you about my psych appointment yesterday.

          I went on to detail how I had been prescribed the Seroquel without warning about the potential diabetes reaction.  My sister offered to contact a friend who is a psychiatric nurse very knowledgeable about psych meds.

           She then went on to empathize with me about my situation and affirm how well I was doing in spite of things.  My sister’s very big on affirmation.  That’s one thing I like about her.  Even when we were in high school and I got all the attention for being the star athlete and student, she never held it against me.  She was one of my biggest fans.  I’m very fortunate to have her.

           

          Though I felt better, I was still fuming about the meds and about the lack of quality psych care I was receiving.  I went home and my wife offered to drive me upstate (over 5 hours) to see my former psychiatrist (who not only brilliantly kept me stable for 8 years, but is very responsive and would no doubt take me in if I needed to see her). 

           I should explain my wife has been wonderful through all this.  They don’t make them like her anymore.  She’s a saint.

 

 

{artist’s rendering of my wife}

 

           I’m not sure of the exact statistics, but somewhere around 80% of people with Bipolar wind up divorced.  Add rapid cycling to the Bipolar, and it inches up somewhere near the 100% mark.  Thanks to my wife’s faith and commitment, we have proven the exception.   She has a tenacious persistence to tackle problems head on until they are adequately resolved.  She is a fantastic advocate for me and for our children as well.

           We decided to consult my former psychiatrist on the phone first.  She wasn’t in, so we left a message.

           As we waited for her return call, my wife and I got busy on the phone calling all over the Island to try to find a good therapist, psychiatrist, even a support group.  We got essentially nowhere except for a support group I discovered was meeting that night about an hour away.  I then went to bed, trying to catch up on my lack of sleep from the past many nights.  The lack of sleep was really starting to show on me.  I slept like a baby.

 

{artist’s rendering of me sleeping like a baby}  

 

     I woke up feeling somewhat refreshed, took a shower and headed to my office to get a few things done before I left for the support group.  Shortly after I got to church, my cell phone rings.  It was my former therapist.  I had almost forgotten that I had called him earlier in the week.   Before I moved, he offered to do phone consultations with me any time if I was unable to find a decent therpist.  His call couldn’t have come at a better time.

          I think I’ve mentioned my former therapist.  He is a Jew who once lived in a Christian commune and now practices Zen Buddhism.  His therapy is just as eclectic.  He does cognitive, depth, rational-emotive, role play, gestalt, hypnosis.  Whatever it takes and wherever the Spirit leads.  One of the reasons we worked well together is that he accepted and affirmed my faith as the most essential element in my healing process.  He knows the Scriptures and believes the truths they reveal contribute greatly to a well-balanced, abundant life.

          So, my former therapist (I’ll call him “Rich”) called.  I could almost picture him at the other end of the phone.

 

{artist’s rendering of “Rich” speaking on the phone}

PP:  Rich, thank you so much for calling.  Things are crazy out here. 

Rich:  What’s going on?

PP:  I’ve been cycling all over the map.  I can’t find a decent psychiatrist.  I’m a mess.

Rich:  How about a therapist?

PP:  I had one.  He was a good listener.  Rogerian-like.

Rich:  Carl or Mister Rogers?

PP:  A little of both.

Rich:  What an idiot!   [PP notes:  Rich is not Rogerian.  He tells you what he thinks.]  So tell me about your psychiatrist.

PP:  Well, she’s supposed to be the best.  But she doesn’t listen.

Rich:  How can she be the best if she doesn’t listen?  A big part of psychiatry, you know, is listening.

PP:  Exactly.  It’s just.  It’s a lot different out here.  People who are experts want you to know they are experts and don’t often listen to what you have to say.  For instance, I told her about my therapy with you, how you use a variety of approaches depending on the situation and my needs in the moment.  She says, “No.  You absolutely need cognitive therapy.”

Rich:  You’ve got to be kidding me!  You tell her there is not a shred of evidence that any single therapeutic approach works best for a client.  I use some cognitive, but only when it’s right for the client.  You’ve got to be patient-centered, not approach-driven.

PP:  I know.  Hey, didn’t you grow up on the Island?

Rich:  Almost.  I grew up in Little Neck.  I do have a brother, though, who practices medicine on the Island.  Tell you what, let me give him a call and see if he can recommend someone.  If you don’t hear from me in two or three days, give me a call back.  Meanwhile, who was your psychiatrist when you were up here?

          I had just answered the question when my phone showed I had another call.  It was my former psychiatrist (I’ll call her Dr. G.)

PP:  Rich, you’re not going to believe this.  Dr. G. is calling in.  I’ll call you back.

Rich:  Sure.

          I switched over to talk with Dr. G.  Dr. G is an unusual creature.  She was known as one of the best psychopharmacologist in the Finger Lakes region where I lived.  But, she chose to limit her practice so she could have more family and personal time.  With a limited number of clients, she could pay very close attention to each one.  She would always return calls promptly and often do therapy on the phone - at no extra cost.

         So, Dr. G was on the line –

{artist’s rendering of Dr. G speaking on the phone}

PP:   Dr. G, thanks so much for calling.  I really need your advice.

          {I went on to briefly describe my mental health journey since moving, then zoomed in to the previous day’s appointment.}

PP:   So she prescribes me Seroquel without warning me about the potential side effect of a diabetic coma or death.

Dr. G:  (in her calm, impassioned tone)  Well, Seroquel is a logical next step for you.  The risk of diabetes mostly has to do with weight gain and you’ve done fine maintaining your weight on drugs that are even more prone to increase your weight.

PP:  See, that’s just it.  You’ve just said in two sentences all I needed to hear to be confident about taking the drug.  I’m just getting fed up.  I’m starting to think it isn’t possible for a rapid-cycling bi-polar to keep a professional job and try to raise a family.  What should I do?  What’s your opinion of clozaril?

Dr G:   I think what you need is to go to an expert on Bipolar.  Could you make it into the City?

PP:  Absolutely.  I’ll go wherever I can get good care.  Hey, you did your training in the City, right?

Dr. G:  Yes.  And I know some people there who may be able to help.  Let me call around and see what I find out.  I can be back in touch with you next week.

PP:  Thank you so much, that’s just what I need.

         

Now, I feel like, 30 years younger.

 

 

        And that, my friend, is how God works.  Sure, there are times God puts on spectacular displays.   More often than not, however, God works through people like my sister, my wife, Rich, and Dr. G - people who care and are willing to help when you need them.  People willing to accept the call to make a few calls and keep a crazy man sane for a few more years.

When it comes to getting things done, it’s not what you know, it’s Who you know. 

 

 

more on God in my life…

“Sunday Morning Coming Round”

“Clarence Jordan and Koinonia“

“A Good Marriage“

 

 

 

 

 

 

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