Austin and coffee

Today was a difficult day. I had an appointment with my psychiatrist and then I had group therapy. I first stopped for coffee and had about a half hour to kill before leaving so had something to eat with my coffee. As I am sitting there checking twitter and eating, the guy in front of me sniffles. I then sniffle. We both started talking about sniffling. Well, that wasn’t the whole conversation but that is how it started. We talked a little bit about our lives and what we were up to. We became coffee buddies. I do hope I see him tomorrow, though he says that he gets there early and I am not an early riser. I was only there early because I had my appt with my psychiatrist. His name is Austin. He was telling me how people mess up spelling his name and I asked how. He said with a W. I thought, oh geez. As I left to go on my way, I asked him when he was there most days and he said that time (before 1000), which is way early for me. But who knows. Maybe he will be the reason I get up in the morning and get out of the house for my one cup of coffee.

My appt with my psych went well. This week was our twentieth anniversary. I can’t believe it. I met her when I was 17 yrs old. That was a long time ago. I never wanted to leave her and she never wanted to leave me. So the card I got her it says that we have a weird relationship. That is why we are together, or something like that. I didn’t write anything more profound. I just didn’t have the time but thought those words were enough. She was happy and said that I was the most thoughtful person she knew. I gave her 20 cake pops to represent our 20 years together. I didn’t think of anything else to get her that wasn’t too expensive and too much. I know I should have but sometimes giving gifts to a psychiatrist can be tricky.

I then went to group therapy and like last week, I had intense feelings of wanting to kill myself after the group. This time was because the walk was too much. I got within a block of the building when my foot decided it didn’t want to go any further. It was raining and cold. I pushed further to get to group. It was the same trouble getting back to the train station. I was within a block of the station when my foot got too tired so was doing whatever it walk. At one point I just stuck it out like a penguin’s foot and walk like that for a few steps. It didn’t help but it got me closer to the station. I know tomorrow I am going to be hurting. It is the price I pay for walking.

Group therapy went ok. But again I felt really bad afterwards and called my therapist because I was in crisis again. I promised myself I wouldn’t go ahead with my plans because of my psychiatrist. It is our twentieth anniversary and I just couldn’t give her a present and then kill myself that week. That would be awful of me to do to her. So again I put off death. But I didn’t put off my therapist. She wants to meet tomorrow. She is sick with a cold and I am secretly hoping she loses her voice so she can’t talk. But knowing her she will talk anyway or I will have to talk more. Either way I am stuck with this crazy person.

I wasn’t sure I would finish this paper today. I had a couple of bowel accidents thanks to what I hope to be overdoing it on fiber pills. I had the runs and crapped my pants. I just don’t have any control over loose stool because of my nerve condition CES. I lost control after my fourth surgery. It has been six years now and I don’t think I am going to regain those nerves. It really sucks. The worse part was that my mother had to clean it up. Talk about feeling like a baby. All she kept asking me was to take Imodium but that would cause more problems for me as then I would get too backed up. I hate talking about bowels on my blog but today there is no way around it. It is shitty talk but it brings out the worse suicidal rage in me. I had to email my psychiatrist and tell her I took an extra Ativan because I just couldn’t deal. It was either that or OD on Neurontin which would have just turned me into a Zombie tomorrow. But that is how I cope. I don’t really want to cut. I don’t have the urge but I do want to crawl under a rock and die. I am so embarrassed and humiliated. My dignity went out into the toilet. And I don’t think I can get it back.

What started off as a good day went to the crapper. All because I lost control of my sphincter. That is what it is like living with CES, Cauda Equina Syndrome