One of the disadvantages so far to not finding a therapist covered by my insurance who understands autism, let alone adult autism, that has become achingly clear over the past couple of weeks: my anxiety remains completely unconfronted by medication. Just last Friday, I suffered an epic anxiety attack at the urologist’s office that easily lasted at least half an hour. (One that, not-so-incidentally, would have been visibly obvious to anyone that passed by, including all of the doctors, nurses, and other staff who never asked if I was okay.) I was, at least, given something prior to my surgery last Monday, as I lay prone on a hospital bed and naked except for that flimsy gown. Today, I’m having one I’d say is “moderate” as I await a telephone appointment with my urologist to get the lay of the medical land, as it were. There’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. Low levels of anxiety I can often walk back through some rudimentary breathing exercises, but cross the threshold into a more intense attack, and I am left at sea.
Originally published to write.house by Bix Frankonis. Comments and replies by email are welcome.