I love my doctors

I know a lot of people who have horror stories about their doctors. I'm not one of those people.

I have been battling perimenopausal depression. It lasts a few days at a time. When the feelings of worthlessness pass (and they do and they will), I am left with the dread that it will return (and it will).

My shrink, a PhD, has explained the difference between situational depression (which I've battled since junior high) and biochemical depression (which is new and completely awful). She doesn't minimize the pain I'm in, even as she promises me it will pass. Instead she encouraged me to call my GP and ask for antidepressants.

This made me a little uncomfortable. Not because I'm against better living through chemistry. But because I don't want to be medicated incorrectly. While I like my doctor very much, I only see her two or three times a year. I don't want her just cutting me a script for something this serious without really knowing what's going on.

So I asked my shrink if she would consult with my GP. She said, "Of course. We won't let you suffer." Music to my ears.

I contacted my GP and she told me she was going to give me (free) samples of Lexapro, chosen because unlike Zoloft, weight gain is not a major side effect. She assured me that she believes this is a short-term, hormonally-driven problem. But, just to be sure, she agreed to call my shrink.

I felt so much better late Thursday when my shrink called me back and told me my two doctors had conferred and that all three of us agree this is the best path for me.

I am so glad that these women treated me with such sensitivity and respect. And I'm sorry that all women don't have access to the care I have.