What is it you do for a living again?

I have just returned home from a visit with my psychiatrist. I am required to see her once a month in order to get my medication. Psychiatrists don’t give refills over the phone. You have to make an appointment, and pay for an office visit to get your medication each month. They say this is so they can closely monitor the meds you are taking, but I think that’s a load of B.S. I think it is simply a way for them to charge your insurance company for an office visit. I am in her office for a total of ten minutes, top. I have seen from the invoices my insurance sends out that she charges $85.00 for that ten minutes. She has appointments scheduled every fifteen minutes, and her office is always full. That tells you a little bit about our society, doesn’t it? But who am I to judge? I’m one of those people there for their drugs! I have been seeing this particular psychiatrist for seven months now. She has no idea who I am. When she comes out of her office to get me for my appointment, she says “Hello lady. Are you here to see me?” (There are several psychiatrists working out of that office). She greets me that way every single time. When I go in and sit down, we have the exact same conversation every time. First she asks me if I have kids. I tell her we are in the middle of the adoption process. Twice when I told her this(after asking from what country we were adopting) she said "Oh, that's nice. You'll have Brad Pitt family." (She has a very thick Persian accent). I am not kidding. She actually said this to me on two separate occasions. I can't believe she just said that, and I don't know what to say so I just smile blankly at her. The other times when I told her we were adopting she proceeded to tell me what wonderful people my husband and I were, for doing such a noble thing. Yuck. Again, the blank smiling. The second thing she asks is "What do I do for a living?" I tell her I work in Child care. She tells me again what a good person I am, and what a noble job that is. Yeah, whatever. Too bad the pay is crap! I don't actually say this, but I think it. Every. Single. Time. Then she proceeds to ask how long I have been married, and if my husband is nice to me. I am so tempted to say, just once, "Yes, he's nice to me. Aside from the beatings, we get along great". Just to see if she is listening, because I'm pretty sure she is not. I have been taking the same medication for seven months. Nothing has changed, except that I feel I no longer need the Xanax, so I stopped taking it several months ago. She is pleased with this information. She is pleased with it every time I see her, even though I stopped taking it months ago. At my last appointment, she asked me if I felt the anti-depressant was working effectively. I told her I thought it was working fine for the most part, but I felt it didn't work as well as I would like for the severe PMS I suffer from every month. (Endometriosis can cause PMS that is ten times worse than "regular" PMS). So I explain to her the endo situation, and how I have been feeling both really sad and extremely cranky for the seven days leading up to my period. (If you don't believe me, read a couple of the posts prior to this one. Yikes!) Anyway, I explain all of this to her and she says. "Oh, you need not worry about PMS. You just let it go. Take some Tylenol. You feel better." "Don't let bother you." Ummm...Huh? Again all I do is smile blankly at her.
Apparently the PMS is all in my head and I have complete control over it. I haven't brought it up since then. My therapist has been telling me I need to see someone else and the PMS is a real problem that can be helped with another kind of anti-depressant. I guess I have been too lazy to find someone else. After all, she is already the second one I have tried. The first one gave me a bunch(and I mean a bunch) of pills, and then told me I was trying to mask my true feelings with medication. Plus he was creepy. So I don't know what I should do. I obviously need to continue on the anti-depressant(again, refer to earlier posts). In order to do so, I must see a psychiatrist. And I think this one should actually know who I am after seven months. And agree that PMS is an actual problem that deserves some consideration. And not be creepy. Is that too much to ask?



P.S. It absolutely breaks my heart to see the waiting room crowded with Mothers and their sons who are there to get their ADHD meds refilled. What are we doing to our kids? Is drugging them really the answer? But again, who am I to talk. I'm just a crazy lady there to get the refills on her drugs.