My dear medical professional,
No, I’m not embarrassed that I’m on an SSRI; I recognize I have a condition that warrants meds, no different than diabetes, blah, blah, blah. But I would like to choose who I tell, and how, and besides, how about that whole “confidentiality” thing?
Yes, dear phlebotomist, I know we’re on friendly terms and like to talk about boys and celebrities and our pets, but that doesn’t mean everyone in the blood donor room, including my friend who I donate with, needs to know what medication I’m on.
“CELEXA?? ARE YOU ON THAT FOR ANXIETY??”
Yes, and just in case someone in the ward down the hall didn’t hear you, let me go into detail about the emotional and physical symptoms I get when in panic mode. The diarrhea alone is something special.
“PAXIL?? WHAT IS THAT, BIRTH CONTROL?”
No, but let me announce to you and the rest of the floor that I am celibate for religious reasons, the religious experience I had to turn me around, how long it’s been since I’ve had sex, and no, I don’t masturbate either. No, it hasn’t killed me yet.
“CELEXA, WHAT’S THAT FOR?? ARTHRITIS??”
And, Ms. Dental Hygenist, don’t let my mouth full of cotton and blood stop you from interrogating me; I’m sure that green fabric dividing this from the next exam area will be soundproof enough.
Thanks for your consideration,
gigi