unrest

Unrest

I am in my 10th hour of being in pain. I didn’t do much. I wanted to have something to eat so heated up a burger. When I was close to being finished with it, while I was sitting, my ankle went berserk. It felt like someone was trying to scoop my ankle bone out of my leg. It was so bad that walking was difficult. I cleaned up after myself and then went up to my room where the pain got worse. I took a breakthrough med and I felt some relief but as CRPS pain goes, one pain goes away and another starts. The pain moved from my ankle down my foot and was excruciating.

I emailed my psychiatrist about my upcoming appointment with a new therapist on Tues. I gave her the name of the therapist I was seeing and told her I had hoped for the best but was thinking the worst. I then watch an episode of Good Omens. I really like this series. The good angel is pretty funny and timid. The demon angel is sort of cocky and sarcastic. They make a good pair. My pain subsided while I watched but soon as the episode was over, the pain continued. I started having anxiety. Took my BP and pulse and it was on the low end of normal but my pulse was really low at 53. I normally would have taken another Ativan but decided not to as I didn’t want to lower my heart rate further. As much as I wanted to die, I didn’t want to do that at home.

I barely left my room since coming back from dinner. Kind of makes me nervous as I haven’t really peed in eight hours. Maybe by “talking” about it, I will get the urge. I am still kind of nervous as my heart rate as of a few moments ago was 51. I emailed my psych about having these anxiety attacks while having high pain and a low pulse. I never got a response but might tomorrow. Or maybe I will email my PCP and see what he says. I like to go through her first as she is my go to doctor. I wouldn’t see her if I had the flu or something but I would at least tell her I had the flu. And she will direct me to my pcp if she feels like I need to be seen by him. She did make me see him when I was losing weight and had no appetite.

I have been thinking about all the stuff that went on while I was in the hospital, mainly about what I was writing in my blog that was getting back the attending psychiatrist. I don’t know why I can’t let it go. I read my last few blogs before being discharge and yes I might have been harsh, but I am always like that when I am venting my frustrations about someone. I don’t hold back my swears or how stupid I think someone is (even though they really aren’t stupid, it is most likely the computer system preventing the nurse for giving me the med I need). The only times I really had problems was when I wanted my breakthrough med and they confused it with the extended release med, even though it is different doses. A few of the nurses thought I couldn’t take it together or couldn’t give me it because of the computer system telling them it wasn’t time yet. But either case, it had no bearing on my care. I was writing because that is what I do when I am upset or frustrated or angry or whatever. It is my release. I can’t really go off at a nurse for doing his/her job. That would be frown upon and I would be spoken to because it would seem inappropriate but me writing about it in the language that I use helps me to release it better than calling someone a fucking moron. I have never given a description of the person, the location where I was, the type of unit I was in, nothing to indicate even the hosp. There are more than one psych units at hospitals in Boston as well as surrounding areas. All these hospitals have nurses. All these hospitals have social workers and contact people, etc. Why would the unit I was on be any different? How was anyone to know I was talking about Jane Doe instead of Jane Smith? This doctor was so out of line and made me feel so censored in what I was writing that I couldn’t write. My one fucking outlet that I use to ease my pain was suddenly being monitored by people I didn’t know reporting me because I was frustrated or was attracted to one of the nurses. Then had the fucking nerve to call me Trumpian. What the actual fuck?!?! I am sure if I brought it up to him, he would deny ever saying that he did and I am sure the social worker would deny it to, even though she was right there when he said it. I have no idea what this doc wrote to my psych. I see her Monday and will find out, I guess or maybe I won’t. I had already told her that there was an implication I wouldn’t be welcomed at the unit again. Frankly, I hope I am not because I hate it there. I wasn’t pleased to be placed there every time and especially in the care of this doctor my last three stays there. I think the only thing that helped me was the increase in Lamictal to better stabilize my mood. The staff, which were excellent, really helped because they took the time to listen to me through my darkness and saw the pain I was in with my ankle. The doc and social worker didn’t. It probably went in report but didn’t go more than that. I never heard the doc say anything when I had a night of pain and was in agony and highly suicidal. I felt bad that the nurse had to come to my room to give me meds because I couldn’t walk to the nurse’s station. If I felt up to it, I did. Unfortunately, I had to sometimes walk to the bathroom and then got stuck. I wish I had brought my cane as that would have helped me more than trying to walk unassisted. Sure there were staff but I feared falling with them than anything. If I fell that would be one thing, but to have a staff member fall with me and the possibility of them getting hurt I wasn’t okay with.

I have been trying to let this stuff go but it really bothered me. Like someone said to me earlier today, it was almost like they were infringing my right to free speech. People right vile things attacking others all the time on social media. I don’t think I am one of those people. I don’t think I verbally attacked any of the staff on the unit. I was just venting my frustrations because I was feeling trapped and needed an outlet. I was also in a lot of pain and wanted to act on my suicidal urges, which frustrated me more than anything else.

Before I end here, I want to thank everyone who reads my blog daily, regularly, or even infrequently. I also want to thank the people that follow my blog as I have just reached 1,000! I never thought I could reach it as I have been close a few times but then lost some people. Thank you, thank you, thank you.