I'm having another CPA (Care Plan) meeting. At the end of the month. It was only the end of June I last had one. I'm meant to be on yearly CPA's. So why, you may ask, am I having another one?
Well, my psychiatrist (who isn't really my psychiatrist as I'm not on any medication) wants to have a "positive" meeting before she goes on maternity leave. Apparently the world of psychiatry is proving a bit depressing, and so she wants to see me for a pleasant chat. How nice. *sarcasm*
I last saw her in November the week before she went on maternity leave. She told me that she was going to write in my notes that I shouldn't see her replacement, as she knew how much I hated medication. Anyway, she came back from that leave in July, and is going on maternity leave for her second child in November. (see previous comments about having a fertile care team)
So, I'm having another CPA. 4 months and 3 days after the last one (Which, by the way, resulted in this blog post being written). My brilliant position as a "success story" means I've got to travel to the centre for a 10am appointment during half term week (so less early starts for the rest of the family). I feel I've got to paint on a smile, say things are fab, that I'm looking at life through wonderful rose-tinted glasses and though I still hear odd things, it isn't too bad and though I currently feel on the edge of a breakdown all is well. Ahhh. *fake grins and laughing and skipping through autumnal leaves in an idyllic way*
Correct me if I'm wrong, but surely CPAs are meant to have some purpose? Surely they aren't just meant to be a nice hour spent with me talking about my plans for the life I say I want to lead and about the year I've had? Not just making the care team feel all warm and fluffy and nice inside?
Thinking about that report from the last meeting (I can't find the paper copy, it is probably filed in a box somewhere), I realise several things have slipped. However, I couldn't tell my CPN today that yes, I have parts of my body bandaged up. She squirmed when asking about my "lesser" harm, I couldn't tell her what has actually happened recently after that reaction.
I know if I don't tell them, they'll never know. I know that. But I just wish sometimes that it was easier to say what I wanted/needed to say without words being put into my mouth or being told how well I'm looking or being told what a wonderful thing it is that I'm functioning so well.
Seemingly the deceptive looks have deceived them...