Thursday, March 16, 2006


I went to Columbia Presybterian Hospital, where I had an appointment with Dr. Levenson, a psychiatrist. He was the third therapist, whom I had met in three days and the fifth thus far in my hunt. Like my meetings the previous two days, this one went well too. Since he has a medical degree, he unlike the others was very interested in my medical history and the specific details regarding the treatments that I have received. As a result, I spent significant time discussing the various medicines and therapies but we also talked my thoughts and emotions too.

I informed him that I had been meeting other therapists recently. It was my desire to see a variety of personalities and styles before deciding on a therapist. A social worker at Sloan-Kettering encouraged me to find someone, whom I am comfortable with but also someone who is interested in my story and me. Otherwise, it might just be a waste of money. He agreed with my assertion, but cautioned me to not look too much because the longer I search the longer it will be before the actual therapy begins. He likened it to a patient, who is ill and visits several doctors for second opinions but every opinion inevitablely delays the start of treatment.

The wierd thing about "interviewing" these therapists has been that I feel that one meeting isn't really sufficient to know if the person is good or not unless of course, it's clear plainly (which was the case with the second therapist I met). Why? Well, except for my appointment with Dr. Tepper I felt that the first meetings covered the bare essentials . . . the basics. I tell each therapist the same thing. I tell them about my diagnosis, time in the hospital, the mental breakdown, and the emotions surrounding it. I should be an expert at telling my story because I have done it so many times. So yes, the repetitive nature of the first meetings is a little boring, because I'm waiting to have that second, third, and fourth meetings in which deeper issues are discussed in greater detail and things becomes clearer.

From Columbia, I took a taxi (I continue to get around town via taxis only. My doctor hasn't given me the OK for use of the subway yet. Getting around via taxis solely adds up very easily, but I'm not going to go down into the bowels of the earth until my doctor gives me the OK.) down to the theater district where I had a late lunch with Ben at a good Indian restaurant called Bombay Masala.

From there, I went to Gilda's Club to do yoga. I enjoyed this class even more than the one from previous day. The teacher, Dianne, was awesome. She was very helpful and so chill. She explained the steps to the various poses very well. At the end of the class, I felt calm and rejuvenated and I told her how much I had enjoyed it. It's my plan now to participate in the Tuesday and Wednesday classes at Gilda's. There's a Saturday morning class at the Bendheim Center which I have not tried yet but I'm planning to check it out this weekend. If I like this one, then I'll add this class to my weekly program.


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