I know my old D.O only treated my symptoms at the time. Prescribed me A-Typicals when i was obsessive, and obtrusive thoughts. Which only made me severely depressed, as I lacked the motivation to even read my self to tell others how I felt until it was too late. (Suicide ideation.) I was so angry at that point that he had been so blind to my suffering, when i clearly told T how bad it was. Then came the lithium after the hospital stay, and honestly, it was good for a few days. But it wrecked my motivation to exercise, which I still have 6 weeks after I quit. I was so afraid of toxicity from dehydration. Then it was the pealing skin on my right hand. It was so painful; a constant reminder of how M.Ds, D.Os, What-the-hell-evers only care about treating an illness, and not treating the person underneath. The broken, damaged, the unmotivated loner; the stigmatized, alienated silent sufferer of pain and torment unique to them. We're people, damn it! Not some play thing for a chemist to experiment what works, what doesn't. We're a living, breathing, feeling, emotional, loving, deep, personal, wonderful peoples. And often do they wish it so to wreck the creative uniqueness which is us with their drugs, and their hierarchy of procedural medicine "until something just works. soon i promises." Lies.

This illness is both so well known, and so very little is known on the personal level. The criteria is clear of course, and well defined. Perhaps not mixed episodes, but it stands to reason that they'd know what it is given enough time to get to know you. How I feel for our Ts who experience so much of what our wrath can be, and yet, mr./mrs. M.D, D.O, what-the-hell-ever, only sees us for fifteen minutes, writes a little slip of paper, and sends us on our merry, suffering way, obedient way. excuse the hostility; excuse the pessimistic attitude. But, I had such a drive to say it.