Anyone else out there ignoring those little labels telling you not to combine alcohol and medication? Welcome to my existence.
To be fair, my prescribed meds have little red labels that state that alcohol *may* intensify the effect of my pills. Intensify? Yes please! Oh, I'm also not supposed to be operating heavy machinery. So long as that excludes laptop, space heater and lighter, I'm in the clear.
Okay, so this post is about therapeutic lies. Those little white lies we all tell our "helping" professionals.
As a semi-retired alcohol and drug counsellor, I tend to operate under the assumption (to quote House) - that "everybody lies". This is particularly relevant when working with people who use alcohol and drugs. I try to preserve the benefit of the doubt, but I also have to remember that it is so ingrained in our culture to be ashamed of our substance use, that when we are asked how much we use, we lie. Okay, perhaps bend the truth. But potato, potato... you know what I mean. (That saying doesn't translate so well in print, by the way).
I, knowing and understanding this concept, am faced with a conundrum when sitting across from my GP, my counsellor, my psychiatrist, my gyno, whoever. When asked how many drinks I consume per week, my mind immediately goes into therapist-versus-client overdrive. Option A - I tell the truth and my helping professional presumes I'm lying and multiplies what I drink by three, leading him or her to internally ponder how I am functioning well enough to stand. Option B - I lie and divide my consumption by approximately three, presuming they will then mentally multiply by three, coming to an accurate (and still troublesome) conclusion. Option C - Deny, deny, deny. I state that - of COURSE I don't drink, because I too am a helping professional and should therefore completely understand that alcohol is a depressant and, as I am currently battling depression, should have absolutely nothing to do with the evil drink. To boot, they all have my patient history and LOVE to bring up that there is some proof that alcoholism can be genetic and that, given my family history, I am predisposed to the nasty disease/habit/disorder (the last word depends on what century the helping professional appears to be functioning in).
Food for thought. Or, consequently, single vodka and soda with a twist of lemon for thought.
Cheers.
PS
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