All Aboard the Bipolar Express

Won’t Somebody Be My Doctor?

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Part of my zeal for rejoining the world of employment — besides wanting to fight racial in justice while getting paid a living wage — was that I could finally afford to go to doctors and dentists again. As soon as my insurance kicked in, I began booking long put off appointments left and right. And I was successful with most. I was able to retain my old OB/GYN, who was still as nice and blunt as ever. I found a primary care physician (or so I thought). And I made a long overdue dental appointment. But what has been, by far, the hardest nut to crack, the thing I needed more than anything, was finding a psychiatrist.

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