I see you. I am sorry you are going through this. It will get better. It is not your fault. She says her patients keep the prescriptions, one on his fridge, another underneath her pillow. ‘I feel as if we’re living in a time when these words and this communication and compassion sometimes have as much effect as the medicine.
People are suffering existentially.’ I’m suffering existentially – for a long time I’ve felt as if I must have some sort of untreatable neurological disorder, or an incurable ailment that will mean I need to go and live in the desert in Utah - and yet I also feel as if I’m wasting my GP’s time.
It’s hard to put into words what is happening. ‘I’m feeling very low,’ I say. ‘Anxious. Not sleeping. I saw a therapist and she suggested I get my hormones checked as it might be perimenopause.
I’m only 42.’ The GP flashes me a look. Another smile. Pity. I remember being a teen and my parents throwing a party for a neighbour turning 40.
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