Treatment: Take Two

So I went back to the drawing board and dug up the name and number of Doc No. 2 who'd been on vacation when I'd first called.
He was taking new patients and could meet with me. Okay. Great.
Luck of the draw the week before my appointment the receptionist called to say that there were some cancellations so I could come in sooner. Like, tomorrow. Oooookkkkaaaaaaaay. Sure. That'd be great.
Despite that last bit of sarcastic sounding commentary, I was actually happy. I'd been deeply depressed for days and was desperate for something that resembled the road to recovery.
I had already received the papers to fill out for the first meeting. All kinds of questions about medications I was taking, medical history, and an inventory of depressed symptoms. This seemed, to me, much more serious than that joker, Dr. Evil. In fact I'd done them that morning before the phone call came through moving up my appointment. A veritable good sign, I thought to myself.
And it was. I met with Dr. B for 45 minutes. Those 45 minutes focused on my medical history, not my employment history (though he did ask - it was to see if my illness interfered with my ability to keep my job), my family medical history, and some of my manic symptoms. At the end of the session, he described all the things he'd like to talk about at our next session, which would be within the week, and asked if I would mind if he talked to a family member who knows me well who could discuss my symptoms. I immediately named my fiance, Wallace. And said we could call my mother for more family background.
I made the appointment (it was Thursday) for Monday.