At the vegan restaurant. Basically, the doctor appointment went like this: she (they rotate all the time and have to repeat almost the same stuff at every appointment - a sign of how "resilient" they are) asked me how it's going for me. Of course, I asked: "medication wise?", and, of course, as someone who was raised to be a "good little girl" and to honor her profession (read: ask just to ask but not for actually caring for the person in front of you), she said "in general". And so I explained to her my situation, my history and kept her accountable. The result? She couldn't cope (her brain pushed away, rapidly all that I said) so she immediately disposed of me. Good thing I realized on my way out that she didn't tell me the next appointment datetime and I went back to get it from her. I need the anti psychotic, otherwise I'll have another psychotic break. It's fun to watch people break down when they're used with their privileges and their comfort, but confronted with reality.