Never ending. It just goes on and on
I’m trying to settle down for sleep but a new pain keeps popping up when I lie down, when I sit up, when I take my meds, when I move it, etc. It is fucking never ending. I am not doing a damn thing tomorrow, least that is the plan for now.
I sent an email to my psychiatrist asking her if I was a difficult patient. I briefly discussed my therapy session with my therapist and that the therapy group down the hall from him contacted me. Unfortunately, it got filtered to my junk mail so I didn’t get it until I got home. My phone doesn’t get junk mail for they could be viruses embedded in what they send. Last thing I need is a virus on my phone.
I just sent an email to my neurologist asking her if she could help me out by confirming that I do indeed have CRPS as my PCP just wants to pass me off to another doctor. I am tired of seeing new doctors who aren’t helpful and then just want to pass me off or not treat/see me anymore. I see my neuro in two weeks. It was kind of a long email but I don’t care. My stupid phone kept on inserting different words as I typed, which annoyed the crap out of me. I should have just typed it on my laptop so I wouldn’t get aggravated. Lesson learned.
My foot feels like it is being strangled. There is such a pressure on it like it’s going to burst. I am so tired that I am reaching the over tired stage, which is dangerous because I could catch my second wind and then be up all night. I took an Ativan because along with the strangulation, my ankle is pulsating. The little muscles are twitching. This condition is so frustrating because there is never ending different kinds of pain. I wish I could see a doctor at this hour so they can see or I can try to explain to them what living with this condition is like. All I can do is send them an email and then not get a response. But at least by writing it out, it helps me because at least I have documentation that I wrote this to a doctor.
I still am shocked that in the great medical hub of Boston, I have not found a doctor that is willing to help me. Sure, my PCP gives me pain meds to alleviate my pain. I appreciate that. But he doesn’t want to stop there. Right now my diagnosis is in the air and it is making everything seem like we haven’t tried enough. I am tired of this merry go round. I want off. I asked my neuro if she could possible give me a concrete diagnosis and staple it on my PCP’s head. Well, I didn’t say that. But if she could send a note to him saying I have this dreaded condition, then maybe I don’t have to see yet another new doc. There is no treatment for this condition. I know this. My PCP knows this, my neuro knows this. But opioids help me and if I don’t have them, I am good as dead. I have exhausted physical therapy. I have tried injections. I have tried rest. This is no longer a case of tendonitis. It is deeper than that.
The pain is changing all the fucking time, all over my ankle, foot, toes, bones. It hurts every where. Normally, at this hour, I would be writing a morbid story about ending my life. That is what this blog was about. My suicidal thoughts in the cybersphere. But then one day someone took it too far and called the cops on me so I no longer talk about those things, even though it relieves the tendencies to act. Thoughts are NOT the same as feelings. And feelings does not mean act upon them. It is okay to feel. It is ok to think. Here is a quote from the father of suicidology, Edwin Shneidman that I had the pleasure of talking to him before he died.
“Never kill yourself while you are suicidal. You can, if you must, think about suicide as much as your wishes and let the thoughts of suicide –the possibility that you could do it- carry you through the dark night. Night after night. Day after day, until the thoughts of self-destruction runs its course and a fresh view of your own frustrated needs comes into clearer form in your mind and you can, at last, pursue the realistic aspects, however dire, of your natural life”. –Edwin Shneidman, Suicidal Mind, p166
I write these blogs because I still am struggling night after night, day after day. Pain increases my vulnerability to think of self-destruction. I have the means though no one talks about restricting them. I told my psychiatrist I have something that will end my life but still, she doesn’t ask about it when I see her. She never does. Poor assessment of risks. So does my therapist who knows damn well that I have chronic suicidal thoughts. It makes me angry that I am not treated the way I was with my former therapist, Bozo. She was annoying, I will give her that, but she fucking cared and if I had a method she damn well tried to take it away from me the best she could. I really miss her. Yesterday was her birthday. I wonder if I will be alive to see mine. I really am surprised that you CAN get anything off of Amazon. While I was searching for my method, they had machetes. Machetes!! I don’t think I would have the will power to use it to chop my ankle off but I know a chainsaw would do the job. I refuse to search for it because I know in my darkest of moments, I may just buy it. I’ll go all Scarface on my ankle and groin to sever my artery.
I am once again plagued by dark thoughts. All because I can’t sleep and I am in pain that is never ending. It just goes on and on.