Yes, I Finally Called The Doctor


This article or section, or pages it links to, contains information about sexual assault and/or violence which may be triggering to survivors.

I have an appointment for tomorrow morning at 0830.

But, also, I need to go pick up the prescription refill.

One of the things, one of the PROBLEMS, with moving and living in another country where you don’t know the language / customs / steps to get something done, it makes simple things that you used to do WITHOUT THINKING – it makes those things fucking hard.

For example, picking up a prescription refill.

Now that we live in a new town, I have a new doctor and a new pharmacy and since it’s a much much smaller town where everything is in Dutch, it means things are HARDER.

And when you’re struggling with mental illness, THINGS ARE ALREADY HARDER.


So while I knew that in order to get a prescription refill, I’d need to call the doctor’s office, press two for the refill line and say my birthday, name, medication, and prescription strength ALL IN DUTCH, it was just Too Much ™.

So I didn’t.

Which was fine.

At first.

Until it wasn’t.

So I finally called THAT line last Friday, thankfully, before the SECOND TRIGGER and the pharmacy even, helpfully, emailed me when the prescription was ready to pick up. Which I saw after it was closed for the weekend on Saturday.

And then yesterday I Just Couldn’t.

But today!

Today is a new day and I called the doctor and now I totally haven’t showered or brushed my teeth or gotten dressed in clean clothes, but I’m walking into town to the pharmacy and I’m totally going to pick up my prescription.