I didn’t get much sleep last night. I must have slept for two hours before I woke up in pain. So I had to ask the nurse for one pill to calm my screaming ankle. It took a while to get back to sleep.
The crier on the floor was quiet so I listened to some music quietly as I didn’t have my headphones. I fell asleep for another two hours and I have been up since.
I met with social worker and doc separately. The social worker said she would work on partial hospitals but I really have no interest in them. I think I got a good team finally that is willing to work with me rather than give me empty promises.
The doc is willing to increase the zoloft to 100. I am to go up tonight and watch for manic symptoms. I never has manic symptoms with zoloft. I told him I want to go up to 100 mg as he was thinking 3 times what I take now. I just don’t want to get sick.
I texted my therapist about writing about the last two hours of my father’s life. She said it might be good to work on it while I’m here. Even the doc I saw said it could be helpful. So after I took my nap, I started working on it. I got to where we were waiting for the elevator at the nursing home then stopped.
This isn’t going to be an easy paper/essay to write. I told my contact person I was going to start writing it just in case I become unglued. I know I don’t have to write this. But I’m hoping that if it’s on paper it won’t bother me so much. It’s like a movie that keeps playing in my head.
I emailed my psychiatrist to let her know who my team was. I didn’t say anything else other than I was still depressed. It really sucks battling depression for so long all the while losing a parent. He might not have been the best, but he was my father.