You Have a Prescription Waiting.
Shane’s Prozac waited in the pharmacy for weeks.
During that time, I researched medication. I learned more about side effects. I kept thinking, Gee, this is for depression. Why are they using it for OCD? Is it the only thing they have?
Of course, having gone to the nightmare nurse practitioner who didn’t care at all about Shane, and who didn’t impress me as “knowledgeable,” I had no one to whom I could direct my questions.
Meanwhile, we started looking for another therapist. The search for medication had inspired me to look for an OCD expert, not just a therapist who put it on the page as “something he treated.”
Having been to Shane’s original therapist several times, including during the group family session, I felt a bit like Shane was receiving treatment from someone who had never treated OCD before. All of the answers he gave me were identical to the things I’d read on the internet – nothing more. So after a recommendation from a friend, and another recommendation from a psychologist, I made an appointment – three weeks in the future – for Shane to try a different therapist.
The pharmacy called me last week: “You have a prescription waiting to be picked up.”
“Sorry,” I said. “That’s my fault. I will get it.”
Then I waited another week. When I showed up, finally, on my way to somewhere else and in a rush, the prescription had been cancelled.
“Cancelled?” I fumed. “I said I was going to pick it up!”
“We’ll fill it,” said the very pleasant pharmacist. “Just give us ten minutes.”
I waited three weeks. I’m not waiting another ten minutes, I thought. So I left.
“We’re open until 9:00 tonight!” they yelled as I left.
That night, Bill picked up the prescription. He put it on the top shelf, with all of the old ADHD supplements that haven’t been discarded yet.
And that’s where it will stay, probably. Because Shane doesn’t need it anymore.
At least, he doesn’t need it yet.