Words fail me, but I'll try. A consummate manipulator who got real nasty real fast when I asked her to lay the cards of the table. She lost all professionalism and lashed out in at me for "trying to dominate the conversation." Because I asked a question?
I had told her at the start that I was there for medication management only. In practically no time she imposed her own agenda, demanding a detailed bio with, of course, heavy emphasis on my childhood. She had a couch. I'm surprised she didn't tell me to lie on it.
And I do mean tell. Riabova doesn't ask.
This interrogation might have been at least tolerable had shown any respect for me or concern for my welfare. She did not. Her demands for the most intimate details of my life were coupled with a contempt she didn't bother to conceal.
She interrupted constantly; when I asked her to stop, she told me that I needed to be interrupted.
She told me she would continue to force me to make monthly visits against my will until I met her "standards." One of these was the formation of a "therapeutic alliance." Evidently coercion is the way to a patient's heart.
I also noticed a couple more things; the more upset and agitated I became, the more she seemed to light up. Then there was the Smile, which often turned into something else: a self-satisfied smirk. While Ribakova smirks, I struggle to get the toxins out of my system.
