Midnight demon writes again
It is about half past midnight. I just had something to eat. I tried making myself a deep dish pizza for dinner and burned it pretty bad that it was hard as a rock. I lost my appetite and so haven’t had much to eat today. I knew if I didn’t eat, I wouldn’t be able to sleep. But turns out, pain is keeping me up anyways.
The part of my leg that is swollen has gotten bigger. The day before it was the size of my palm. Now it is the size of my hand. It for some reason, became really painful after I had stood for a while to clear out one of the shelves of my bookcase. I went on my bed to relax my back as it had started to spasm. Next thing I know my lower leg down to my foot was in such intense pain, I couldn’t breathe. I started to have an anxiety attack. I couldn’t touch my leg where it was hurting and that was a bad sign to me that made me panic even more. I just lay there trying to collect myself and grab the pain bottle to take a pill. I think that was harder as I had to move to do so. Half hour later, pain was starting to subside enough I could touch my leg and that is when I notice the swelling had spread up my leg. If I was panicked then, I was more so now. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t stand and walk anywhere as the pain was so great. Even an hour later when I had to pee it was painful going down the stairs and using the bathroom. I had talked to my niece and lost my voice. I sounded like a goddamn squirrel. No idea why. No matter how many times I cleared my throat, it sounded off. Fucking puberty.
Anyway, I talked to a Twitter friend and she wanted me to go to the ER. I texted my sister, but she wasn’t home. Fuck. There goes my ride. I wasn’t about to take the T anywhere. I took an Ativan and once that kicked in to take my anxiety away, I calmed down a bit. I also emailed my psych to let her know what was going on. I decided to try some diclofenac gel to try and ease whatever inflammation there was and see if it helped the pain. As I was ready to apply it, my psych emailed me back to keep her posted and let her know if I go to the ER. I am hoping I don’t have to because it is Easter and I will have a super long wait for something that really isn’t an emergency. I don’t have redness or broken skin oozing fluid. I just have a painful lump on my leg. I see my PCP Tues and I hope I can hold off on ER visits until then. I started thinking about this. The pain was similar to what I was experiencing prior to my dismissal from work, basically telling me I was disabled and couldn’t work. The time off gave my leg some much needed rest time. I have been walking more than I have been the past few weeks, as well as standing longer than I usually do. I also have been trying to do some balance work my PT wants me to do, which means putting some weight on my left leg. I have no idea if that aggravated the tendon that gets inflamed when I walk too much because I am compensating. I knew if I went to the ER or even an urgent care center, odds were they would just refer me to my pcp for whatever. They might do x-rays and an ultrasound to rule out a blood clot in my leg (highly unlikely) but that would be it. And the ultrasound would be on my calf, not the area where the swelling is so not useful at all. I am sure my pcp is not going to be able to figure it out and I hope that the weight loss/loss of appetite and this swelling is not related.
So the leg pain finally subsided after the diclofenac but then my veins started popping and my foot felt like it was being crushed so I was, once again, in a flare. This is day 2. My thoughts immediately went to why the fuck am I still alive. Then I think of what my psych said and I fucking hate her. Hate her because she wants me to live and she is fond of me. I looked straight at her when she told me this so I know she wasn’t bullshitting me. She genuinely meant what she said. I don’t think that I am meant to do something great. Yes, I could write another book. But goddamn it, I am not a fucking writer. Yes, I write blogs. But that is what I do because it helps me and possibly others. I know I don’t get as much feedback as I once did but fuck, my stats tell me someone reads my blog every day, even if only 8 people do.
Pain has been my nemesis. It causes me to be suicidal in an instant. Then in the morning, I am usually okay and feel better and am no longer want to end my life. But I am not at that stage right now. I am in the suicidal moment where I want to do what I want to do to end things. Except I can’t. As much as I have this fucking deep surging urge to do it, I do not want a family member to find me in that state. It is the only fucking thing keeping me alive at this time. Sure my family pisses me the fuck off so I wouldn’t care if they found me. But something, and I don’t know what, keeps me from acting on my urges. I can think about them all I want, fantasize all I want but when it comes to times like this, I am so fucking on the edge of live/die that I just get so frustrated that I don’t do fucking shit. I just ponder some more. Fantasize some more. Then I am reading a book about wills and realize I didn’t sign and date it to make it official. FUCK! I don’t remember where I put the notepad I wrote the fucking thing on. This is pure agony. The mental agony of going through living vs dying and being in so much fucking pain you want to end your life. This is the life of the midnight demon. Always until the urge to act prevails.