Sunday blog 23062019

Sunday Blog 23062019

I woke up with minor back pain that has only gotten worse as I moved around. My mother hasn’t been feeling good so I made her dinner and that was my breaking point. I can barely move and I can’t lay reclining on my back because my CRPS foot goes bananas. I am so uncomfortable. I did some more stuff today. I cleaned out a tub drawer that has come sheets in it. I washed them so I can put that back clean. They have been in there for quite some time so needed to be washed again.

I had a hard time sleeping last night. Around 330 I was listening to blaring music. Apparently, I was hallucinating because no one else heard it. I had texted my nephew to lower his game. He said the neighbors were arguing. I told him about the music and he said there was no music playing. Fuck. I almost always become psychotic when I am really stressed out. Seems last night I was stressed. I was up till after 4. I honest have no clue what time I fell asleep. I woke up briefly when my med alarm went off but I didn’t get up to take my meds. I took them around noon when I woke up. I honestly didn’t want to but my bladder said I had no choice. I still get the feeling that I am going to lose control when I stand. And today with the back pain I had pain going down my leg. I immediately started having intrusive memories of when I had cauda equina syndrome (CES) the first time. This time is slightly different as the back pain is mostly on my left side where the pain is going down into my left leg. This is the same leg I have the CRPS. I hope I haven’t shifted a disc or something. I am hoping it is just sciatica and nothing more.

My sister was out of the house so I had a peaceful day. We barely spoke to each other when she came home. It was strained but polite. We were worried about my mother as her speech was slightly slurred. I can never tell if it is the beginning of a stroke or her sugar about to crash. The symptoms are similar and I get freaked out. I had called my other sister to let her know because I didn’t want her to come home with an ambulance at the door. Then she would have gotten mad that I didn’t call her. She got mad because I called her and she wasn’t home. WTF I can’t win with these people. I think I am doing the right thing and it is wrong.

My CRPS foot/ankle have been feeling like it is being stabbed since I got up. It was probably because of not taking my ER pain med in the morning. I have no idea why I didn’t take it before going to sleep like I usually do. Maybe I just wanted to get up to bake cookies. I really did want to make these damn cookies but fucking back said no. I could barely stand more than five minutes without it flaring up. I am sad I didn’t make them but I am at the hosp on Thursday so I can bring them by to my psych if I make them on Wed when I don’t have any appointments. I have three this week, my psych, PT, and the therapist.

I finally broke down today. I started sobbing and couldn’t stop even though I tried. I really hope I don’t ugly cry tomorrow. I really don’t like crying but this is so damn devastating. I am so fucking angry at the institution. We both got screwed by them in our respective departments. I got forced on disability and she got forced out because she didn’t want a lower position. I really don’t blame her. I blame the fucking place for kicking her out after 30 fucking years. The fricken profession is short of child psychiatrists and they kick out a good one?? Makes me so fucking angry. I half don’t want my care there anymore. Too many bad memories there. But I really have no where else to go just like my home life.

Because my back is almost out, I am not risking a shower. I set my alarm an hour before I have to leave so I can possibly shower. I hate that the appointment is in the morning but I guess it is better than later. I just started drinking. I had taken my pain meds and within a half hour, my MP3 player played Eric Church’s Mixed Drinks About Feelings. It hit me hard and I felt like having a shot. Then I wanted another. I might have a few more. Then I took my night meds. I am in a don’t give a fuck mood. I am in too much fucking pain to care if I get drunk. Honey whiskey is so damn smooth. Hard to just have one shot anyways.

Saturday blog 22062019

Saturday Blog 22062019

I’ve not had a good day. I slept poorly and then fought with my sister throughout the day. Whenever I called her out, the madder she got. She started going through my stuff and when I told her to stop, she refused, saying that I needed to go through my stuff. I told her she wouldn’t like me going through her stuff so stop it. Then she got pissed off and wanted to through shit in my room. She was hauling stuff but I don’t see most of it. My nephew came home from where ever he was and helped me clear some stuff in my room that didn’t seem so overwhelming to him. He did a good job, I helped but it hurt. It took hours for the stabbing in my ankle to stop. It is still sore but I decided to make a marinara sauce anyways as baking cookies would take too much out of me.

I called my psych a little after three. She wanted to know how I was doing with the UTI. I said I was ok and still have symptoms but feel a little better than yesterday. I still haven’t had a decent meal. I had two protein bars yesterday and today I had some cottage cheese with pineapple and then some ice cream. I could barely finish the ice cream, which was not even a full bowl. I kind of feel sick now but at least something is in my stomach.

I weighed myself this morning and I am down another five pounds due to no appetite. I am trying to eat but I am so damned stressed with my sister and now losing my psych. I really feel like I am living with my father as I never know when she is going to jump down my fricken throat. I called her a bully and she laughed at me. Then said she needed to put a stick up my ass, but that isn’t a bully. Fucking bitch. I can’t stand living here but I have no place to go. There is a shit load of waiting lists for disabled people looking for housing, which is so fucking stupid as they are constantly building places. I don’t understand why some of the new housing isn’t for subsidized rents and stuff. Makes no sense.

As I couldn’t sleep last night and felt like I was going to puke, I wrote my psych a letter. It was a little sentimental. I cried again and then some during the night. I kept on having weird dreams. One was of my little cousin (who is 3 or 4) was on my dining room table but she was like 1 or 2. My sister (the bitch one) kept telling me my great grandmother was coming over. It was said at least three times. In the dream it was my father’s mother and I never met her. She died before I was born. Another dream had me bending for something when my mother walks by and uses my back as a support, pushing on it and I woke up with screaming in pain. That part of my back was hurting. There was a third dream but I don’t remember it now. I finally gave up sleeping around 1230, wanting to make cookies but my stupid sister was going through my shit and I knew it would be hell if I baked even though it was a nice cool day. I am so mad at her. She doesn’t understand a damn thing about what I go through and every time I try to get her to get it or at least try and understand, it falls on deaf ears.

This morning when I took my meds, I noticed I didn’t take it yesterday. That was probably why I was feeling so terrible. I thought I had taken them as I took off the alarm. I got results of the urine culture and it was negative. I hope when I finish taking the antibiotics, it remains clear. I am still having pain when peeing. My last dose of antibiotics is Monday night. Monday is going to be a hard day. I am already dreading it as I am not sure how it will be. I have so much to talk to my psych about yet I am not sure there will be enough time to get through it all. I really want to make sure that she will sign off when I want to have top surgery. Also need to work out what to do when I get into a bad spot again. The thought of her not being there is not making me feel easy. I am going to give her my business card that has my contact info on it so in case she doesn’t have it or for some reason, I can’t get in touch with her, she will at least have a way to contact me. I will feel better knowing this.

I’m glad my night meds include Ativan as I need one right now. I am so fricken anxious for some reason. I left the marinara sauce to cool and fear of being reprimanded for leaving it. I hate feeling like I am walking on eggshells in my own house! I can’t deal with the stress. I have enough of it dealing with chronic pain and trying to sleep as well as keep my appointments with my healthcare providers. I haven’t been able to do the new PT exercises. I really haven’t been feeling well and have had too much on my mind.

We don’t have to talk, I just want to hear your voice

We don’t have to talk, I just want to hear your voice

So I am going to try and crank this out as the Sox are playing and Luke Combs, Lady A, and Matt Snell continue to break my heart. This maybe long as there is a lot of stuff to talk about since I haven’t written in a week. So grab some coffee or something.

I’ve been battling a UTI (urinary tract infection) for the past week and a half. My pcp did not consult with me on antibiotics so the first course of treatment did not work. I finished on Sunday and Monday I had the foul smelly, cloudy urine again. I had called the pcp office but it was late in the day and no one got back to me. Tuesday I was able to get a hold of the idiot RN and told him my symptoms. I had an appointment with the new therapist and hoped he would get back to me as I was passing blood at this point. My results came back early afternoon but I got no call from my pcp or provider letter. So Wed I am hurting really bad. I am passing blood clots, blood, and mucus and it was extremely painful doing so. Bladder pain was terrible and I kept losing control of my urine as the urges to go were not to be messed with. At one point I waited a bit too long and thankfully had a diaper on because otherwise I would have had a puddle on my rug as I couldn’t even open the door before losing it. I was getting pissed (no pun intended). I called the office and the RN said that I did have infection (ya think) and my doc called in a prescription. Again my doc DID NOT CALL ME! I asked which one and I said I have no effect with that one I need to be on this one. Wed all I had to eat was some Ramen noodles. I didn’t want to eat or drink anything. Thursday I slept all day. I only ate when my protein bars came in. I had wanted to be up before my night meds but I wasn’t so the med alarm woke me from sleep. My mother too had called which annoyed me more than the phone alarm. I had flank pain but it was minor. I had 2 doses of antibiotics. I emailed my psych to ask her if I should go to the ER as I thought I was dehydrated. We fiddled with how much I was to drink but in the end my stomach only took 3 oz (90 mL). I then felt nauseous and I went to bed. My psych wanted me to get in touch with her today. I said ok.

5 am this morning, I woke up with worse flank pain and felt really lousy. It still hurt to pee but I wasn’t passing clots or mucus. I emailed my psych about this and went back to sleep after taking some Tylenol. I just figured it was nothing but maybe soreness from not eating and drinking anything. When I woke up to my morning meds, my psych had emailed back that I should contact my pcp as flank pain is not something you get with a UTI. Shit. I knew it wasn’t but I really didn’t want to go to the ER. I wanted to bake cookies. So I emailed her I would go to the ER as I wasn’t contacting my PCP again to talk with his idiot RN. I have no idea why good doctors have idiot staff. When I got to the hospital, I called his office just to let him know I was in the ED. Within fifteen minutes my PCP calls me and I tell him what was going on. He said that was the right thing and sent me on my way. ED ran tests but in the end it was to drink more (I laughed at this) and keep the course of antibiotics. OK. On the way home, I sent a message to PCP asking him to do some more urine tests to make sure the damn infection I have is fucking gone. I then sent one to my psych. She responded by asking what did they say. I told her and then asked if she wanted me to call her over the weekend. Our last weekend. I haven’t heard back, yet.

On Monday 17 June, I met with my psych. She told me some very bad, horrible news that has left me feeling numb but really angry at the institution we worked at. Her department wanted her to step down from whatever position and she said no. So they terminated her, June 30th is her last day. My last appointment with her is June 24, this coming Monday. I still have not processed it but I tried on Wed to write something. I knew it had been more than a few days since writing a blog. For the first time in almost 7 years, I lost my words. I couldn’t even begin to write about this and still am tearing up about it. I have been thinking about her and all we have went through. Wed night I wrote her something then couldn’t sleep. I didn’t go to bed till I don’t even remember the hour. Must have been late/early as I slept almost all of yesterday. There is no way in hell I could write what the last 26 years have been like in a paragraph or even in one long blog. I wrote two pages until my brain and emotions were fried. Then I kept fine tuning it. Adding stuff, fixing, punctuating, grammar, you name it. After the third go round I said fuck it and sent it to her with a PS saying that this might not be grammatically correct or something to that effect. In the email, I told her to open it at her leisure, maybe with a few tissues and I would bring a box on Monday.

She said I would be assigned another psychiatrist in the adult department, which so far I haven’t. She wants to have a Lamictal level drawn the next time I see my PCP so if he responds to the urine tests, I will ask him then. I have been preoccupied with her leaving and the UTI that I forgot. I tried not to break down though I did shed some tears. She asked if I could come in next week and I didn’t know what to say. She just shook her head yes and I said ok. The end of June is coming and it would be our last time together for a while. She said she is trying to find some other academic home and then when she gets sets up she plans on calling me. She said her email and phone number wouldn’t change (I am not 100% that is true. I know with me, I was cut off the day they let me go. They might have different stuff for MDs.) I thought of making her my marinara sauce, which I am still planning on doing on Sunday. I wanted to back cookies for her. I am hoping to do so tomorrow if I don’t have an all nightery with pain or emotions. Last night, I realized not only did I not have a copy of my second book on ANY of the 8 thumb drives I had, I also no longer have roots holding my tree up. It was a story I wrote that I don’t think I ever published on my blog. It was about my therapist and psychiatrist keeping me here. One of the roots said goodbye for reasons I still don’t know what they were. Now the other root is leaving me and I have nothing holding me up.

Tuesday was a bigger nightmare as I was supposed to meet with a new therapist. I was so fucking nervous because I knew if she didn’t want to take me on or I didn’t like her off the bat, I would have NO mental health services at all, none! So I went to the appointment and she asked me a shit ton of questions. I carefully worded and didn’t elaborate on anything that would lead to my suicidality. Least not until she said I was discharged from the psych unit and I immediately wanted to die. She asked if I was suicidal. I said no and then asked what would I end it when I leave here. I said no. Throughout, she kept on saying my psychiatrist terminated me and I must feel abandoned. When I asked where do we go from here, she asked what did I want to do, like she had no interest in seeing me ever again. That felt so welcoming. Mind you, when she went into the waiting room she called for someone with my birthname. So we didn’t exactly start off the right foot. I told her I had a three session rule and then I would decide if I would stay on or not. Though, if at three sessions I didn’t, there was no where else for me to go. She asked who I would call should I get suicidal and I said my psych and then it dawned on me, she wasn’t going to be there anymore and fuck, I damn near lost it.

I wrote to my psych and said the therapist said I feel abandoned and I said I didn’t. My psych responded saying I may feel that way. I wrote back I would if this was good bye and it is more of a see you later, or is it? She never responded back. Later that day, Luke Combs came out with the song, Even though I am leaving, and I just about lost it. It was perfect to all the stuff I feel about my psych. This cannot be goodbye.

If I don’t write next week, please know it is most likely due to emotional overload and cannot find the words to the hurt or whatever I feel. I see the therapist Thursday.