We don’t have to talk, I just want to hear your voice

We don’t have to talk, I just want to hear your voice

So I am going to try and crank this out as the Sox are playing and Luke Combs, Lady A, and Matt Snell continue to break my heart. This maybe long as there is a lot of stuff to talk about since I haven’t written in a week. So grab some coffee or something.

I’ve been battling a UTI (urinary tract infection) for the past week and a half. My pcp did not consult with me on antibiotics so the first course of treatment did not work. I finished on Sunday and Monday I had the foul smelly, cloudy urine again. I had called the pcp office but it was late in the day and no one got back to me. Tuesday I was able to get a hold of the idiot RN and told him my symptoms. I had an appointment with the new therapist and hoped he would get back to me as I was passing blood at this point. My results came back early afternoon but I got no call from my pcp or provider letter. So Wed I am hurting really bad. I am passing blood clots, blood, and mucus and it was extremely painful doing so. Bladder pain was terrible and I kept losing control of my urine as the urges to go were not to be messed with. At one point I waited a bit too long and thankfully had a diaper on because otherwise I would have had a puddle on my rug as I couldn’t even open the door before losing it. I was getting pissed (no pun intended). I called the office and the RN said that I did have infection (ya think) and my doc called in a prescription. Again my doc DID NOT CALL ME! I asked which one and I said I have no effect with that one I need to be on this one. Wed all I had to eat was some Ramen noodles. I didn’t want to eat or drink anything. Thursday I slept all day. I only ate when my protein bars came in. I had wanted to be up before my night meds but I wasn’t so the med alarm woke me from sleep. My mother too had called which annoyed me more than the phone alarm. I had flank pain but it was minor. I had 2 doses of antibiotics. I emailed my psych to ask her if I should go to the ER as I thought I was dehydrated. We fiddled with how much I was to drink but in the end my stomach only took 3 oz (90 mL). I then felt nauseous and I went to bed. My psych wanted me to get in touch with her today. I said ok.

5 am this morning, I woke up with worse flank pain and felt really lousy. It still hurt to pee but I wasn’t passing clots or mucus. I emailed my psych about this and went back to sleep after taking some Tylenol. I just figured it was nothing but maybe soreness from not eating and drinking anything. When I woke up to my morning meds, my psych had emailed back that I should contact my pcp as flank pain is not something you get with a UTI. Shit. I knew it wasn’t but I really didn’t want to go to the ER. I wanted to bake cookies. So I emailed her I would go to the ER as I wasn’t contacting my PCP again to talk with his idiot RN. I have no idea why good doctors have idiot staff. When I got to the hospital, I called his office just to let him know I was in the ED. Within fifteen minutes my PCP calls me and I tell him what was going on. He said that was the right thing and sent me on my way. ED ran tests but in the end it was to drink more (I laughed at this) and keep the course of antibiotics. OK. On the way home, I sent a message to PCP asking him to do some more urine tests to make sure the damn infection I have is fucking gone. I then sent one to my psych. She responded by asking what did they say. I told her and then asked if she wanted me to call her over the weekend. Our last weekend. I haven’t heard back, yet.

On Monday 17 June, I met with my psych. She told me some very bad, horrible news that has left me feeling numb but really angry at the institution we worked at. Her department wanted her to step down from whatever position and she said no. So they terminated her, June 30th is her last day. My last appointment with her is June 24, this coming Monday. I still have not processed it but I tried on Wed to write something. I knew it had been more than a few days since writing a blog. For the first time in almost 7 years, I lost my words. I couldn’t even begin to write about this and still am tearing up about it. I have been thinking about her and all we have went through. Wed night I wrote her something then couldn’t sleep. I didn’t go to bed till I don’t even remember the hour. Must have been late/early as I slept almost all of yesterday. There is no way in hell I could write what the last 26 years have been like in a paragraph or even in one long blog. I wrote two pages until my brain and emotions were fried. Then I kept fine tuning it. Adding stuff, fixing, punctuating, grammar, you name it. After the third go round I said fuck it and sent it to her with a PS saying that this might not be grammatically correct or something to that effect. In the email, I told her to open it at her leisure, maybe with a few tissues and I would bring a box on Monday.

She said I would be assigned another psychiatrist in the adult department, which so far I haven’t. She wants to have a Lamictal level drawn the next time I see my PCP so if he responds to the urine tests, I will ask him then. I have been preoccupied with her leaving and the UTI that I forgot. I tried not to break down though I did shed some tears. She asked if I could come in next week and I didn’t know what to say. She just shook her head yes and I said ok. The end of June is coming and it would be our last time together for a while. She said she is trying to find some other academic home and then when she gets sets up she plans on calling me. She said her email and phone number wouldn’t change (I am not 100% that is true. I know with me, I was cut off the day they let me go. They might have different stuff for MDs.) I thought of making her my marinara sauce, which I am still planning on doing on Sunday. I wanted to back cookies for her. I am hoping to do so tomorrow if I don’t have an all nightery with pain or emotions. Last night, I realized not only did I not have a copy of my second book on ANY of the 8 thumb drives I had, I also no longer have roots holding my tree up. It was a story I wrote that I don’t think I ever published on my blog. It was about my therapist and psychiatrist keeping me here. One of the roots said goodbye for reasons I still don’t know what they were. Now the other root is leaving me and I have nothing holding me up.

Tuesday was a bigger nightmare as I was supposed to meet with a new therapist. I was so fucking nervous because I knew if she didn’t want to take me on or I didn’t like her off the bat, I would have NO mental health services at all, none! So I went to the appointment and she asked me a shit ton of questions. I carefully worded and didn’t elaborate on anything that would lead to my suicidality. Least not until she said I was discharged from the psych unit and I immediately wanted to die. She asked if I was suicidal. I said no and then asked what would I end it when I leave here. I said no. Throughout, she kept on saying my psychiatrist terminated me and I must feel abandoned. When I asked where do we go from here, she asked what did I want to do, like she had no interest in seeing me ever again. That felt so welcoming. Mind you, when she went into the waiting room she called for someone with my birthname. So we didn’t exactly start off the right foot. I told her I had a three session rule and then I would decide if I would stay on or not. Though, if at three sessions I didn’t, there was no where else for me to go. She asked who I would call should I get suicidal and I said my psych and then it dawned on me, she wasn’t going to be there anymore and fuck, I damn near lost it.

I wrote to my psych and said the therapist said I feel abandoned and I said I didn’t. My psych responded saying I may feel that way. I wrote back I would if this was good bye and it is more of a see you later, or is it? She never responded back. Later that day, Luke Combs came out with the song, Even though I am leaving, and I just about lost it. It was perfect to all the stuff I feel about my psych. This cannot be goodbye.

If I don’t write next week, please know it is most likely due to emotional overload and cannot find the words to the hurt or whatever I feel. I see the therapist Thursday.

2019May10 worries on my mind, pain in my heart

2019May10 worries on my mind, pain in my heart

I saw my psych today and the first thing she said to me was “have a mustache.” I laughed. I had taken a selfie while at the bus stop and when it popped up on my timeline on FB, I really noticed it being darker than it was even a week ago. Sometimes it is the small things you don’t notice right away. I sort of have been in a gender incongruent/dysphoric mood today as I feel like my breasts are a thousand pounds each. Also feeling bloated doesn’t help. I am not sure why I am bloated as I haven’t eaten gassy foods today, unless it is leftover gas from the burrito I had last night. I am just uncomfortable with my body right now and I don’t like it. I loathe myself so much right now.

My appointment kind of went as planned, with the exception of the hospital being my choice. She is insisting on me going in the hospital next week when my sisters come home. I told her to please find out of the psych unit prescribes pain medication because if they don’t, there will be problems. I most certainly won’t be going in if I can’t have pain meds. I am to call her Tuesday so she can find out about beds as we sort of agreed on a Wed admission. I honestly don’t know if things will be better by then. I doubt it as I am getting closer and closer to an attempt. We didn’t discuss the means, thank god. But she is not letting this get worse as it already has been.

I have already packed a bag. I just need to see if I packed shorts because I don’t want to be hot as the temps have been climbing up. I also need to make sure I have extra underwear as I have been leaking a lot more than usual lately. The increase in the pain meds have caused more retention than I expected. I am still hoping it will level off but who knows when that will be. It has been a few weeks since I started the new dose so maybe a few weeks more as my body adjusts. Course this also goes with how many breakthrough meds I have been taking as that also causes retention. I honestly don’t get the signal to pee until I am practically ready to burst. This is due to the nerve damage caused by cauda equina syndrome. Even though it has been more than 10 years, I still have damage that is permanent.

After I left my psych’s office and was on the way to the train home, I got hit with the biggest heart ache. It hit me so hard, I could barely breathe. It has been bad like this the past three or four days now. I really don’t know what brings it on. But I guess that is the nature of psychache, just comes on when you least expect it. Then when I came home and got into my PJs, my damn ankle exploded in pain. Pain got worse as I have been typing this blog. I was getting hungry so just had a protein bar. I was going to have Nutella on a flour tortilla but doesn’t look like that will be happening. I hope I can sleep tonight. My psych was astounded when I told her I had 5 shots of espresso. I can handle it, though I probably should have had four. I don’t think it will keep me up as much as the pain will. I am already experiencing sensory overload as noises have been bothering me. My mother is playing her dice game in the kitchen. I swear I’d like to toss them in the trash one day. Fucking hate the noise!! Nothing worse than hard plastic hitting glass. And she seems to be playing it whenever she is in the kitchen now, with the blasted TV at full volume. I just want to die and I know the night is only going to get worse between my psychache and physical pain.

2019May09 Fearing the Worst

2019May09 fearing the worst

I have been having pain (yes, once again) and it has brought out the suicidal feelings once again. I had this insane idea to take a pic of the means I want to use and send it to my psychiatrist. Lately, (or maybe fortunately) I have been holding off on sending her an email unless I think it through. I thought of the consequences and it would be a huge deal and almost certainly, cause me to be in the hospital. I held off after talking with a friend on Twitter. We instead talked about other things while my heart was feeling like it was being stabbed a thousand times. She told me about her boyfriend wasn’t going to get back with her and I felt immensely sad for her. She and I had been hoping they would get back together again but I guess it isn’t meant to be.

I fell asleep for an hour and woke up with my elbow hurting. I somehow had fallen asleep in the nook of my arm and my elbow didn’t like it. My friend had sent me a message again and we talked. I felt so messed up still. Her meds kicked and she wished me good night. I was left with my thoughts. I again thought about sending her the pic of the means. Instead, I wrote to her about the struggle I am having and also sent her a pic of the cubic model of suicide. I told her where I was on the scale. I told her the father of suicidology, Dr. Edwin Shneidman, had never really written on chronic suicidality and what to do about it. He just wanted to decrease the psychache and you decrease the suicide. I told her this and also that there is no anodyne to help with the psychache. I have no idea if she will understand all this. I told her I probably need to go in the hospital but my sisters are going away for a few days and if I go in, my mother will be left alone, which would not be a good thing. My nephew will be here but he wouldn’t know what to do if her sugar went low. He has never seen her when her sugar is low and I am sort of protecting him from that. As much as I hate this woman right now, a low sugar and the other potential that could happen would make me so fricken guilty I wouldn’t be able to stand it. Yet here I am wanting to fucking die…jesus I am messed up.

In sort of closing I told her I wanted to push her away so she doesn’t see me like this. I hate having her see me like this. I don’t recall a time when I have been like this for so damn long, well sort of. I was like this 25 years ago, a few months after I graduated high school. Unfortunately then, she was on maternity leave and when she was back, I was in the hospital for a long stay. I fear that once she reads the email, I will be asked to go to the hospital anyways, even though I explained the situation with my sisters not being available. I told her I don’t know if I can hang on till then. I also fear that she won’t give a shit and just hospitalize me involuntarily if I don’t go in voluntarily. Either way I will be sectioned. If I do go in, I hope that it is on the unit I am familiar with. If I do end up there, I hope I don’t have the “team” I had a couple years ago. They are the worst team ever and don’t help you at all. They dance around like they are but once they ignore the can you help me with this and be told we will deal with it tomorrow but it never does; then they ask when would I like to be discharged and I say okay tomorrow. Fuck you too. Nothing gets done there but it will possibly give me some space away from home enough to gather myself up so I can bear living in this hell hole.

I checked my blocked text messages tonight and found that my ex texted me Apr 30 asking for me to send her my books. She was in the hospital after a suicide attempt for 3 weeks and someone stole them. Yeah, okay. Like she can’t go to Amazon and get them or a bookstore? I mean really! I know she just wants to get back in my life in some way shape or form but it isn’t happening this time. I am done with her. She broke my heart long ago and she can’t mend it. Part of me wants to respond but I know if I do, it would be a huge mistake.

I had emailed the social worker the beginning of the week to find out about therapy. I still haven’t heard from her. It would be nice to talk to someone as I feel like such a burden to my psych right now with my craziness. I hope to hear from her sometime today. It is 415 right now so I think I am going to try and go back to sleep.

2019May06 Monday Blues

2019May06 Monday Blues

I didn’t sleep well last night. I fell asleep around 0330 and then woke up either every hour or every two. I finally gave up around noon, which by then I had pissed off two people. So ya, my day is going great and I feel frustrated and sad on top of my suicidal self. Now I just got two emails from my doctor’s office saying they approved and denied my medication request for renewal. I called the office and the new coordinator said she will have him get back to me.

Before I went to bed at 330, I emailed my psych saying that although I appreciate the close contact I have with her concerning my suicidality, I am okay and I don’t want to call her. She writes back that I “run the show!” Now sure what that is supposed to me. I don’t know if she is upset with me or not. I told her I will see her Friday and that I will call if something urgent comes up. I feel like an asshole and I don’t know why. I really am not okay and maybe she knows that but is going with it because I said so. I don’t know. I am still having suicidal thoughts that are overwhelming and the feelings that go with it are getting to be too much for me to handle. I am still contained, as the hospital would say.

I wanted to go out today but because I didn’t have a good sleep, I decided not to. I made coffee at home as I needed it. I just had one cup. My face is still feeling smooth so I didn’t shave. I just washed my face and brushed my teeth. I forgot to do it yesterday. Sometimes I can remember and sometimes I just don’t feel like it. It is hard doing ADLs some days.

It’s a nice day. While I was in the kitchen, I opened the back door to let some air in the house. I want to open my bedroom window but it will take some doing as I probably will cause an avalanche. I have no idea how I accumulated shit there. It was cleared off when my brother in law took out the window sometime in October. I am going to try and clean out my hamper that is just a holding bin right now. I got a set of fleece sheets in there. I think I will wash them so I can put them on my bed when I clear off my bed to change them. I can’t go overboard today because I have PT tomorrow. If I do too much today, I am going to have a flare Wednesday and that won’t be good. I really don’t want to have another suicidal flare. I think it will send me off the edge.

I got such a heavy heart today and I don’t know why. It has been this way past four days now. It is a mix of anguish and despair. I feel hopeless that things will get better. I feel like I am going to feel this way forever. Part of me knows this isn’t true but it has been going on for months now and seems to just be getting worse. I am seriously thinking of going back on an antidepressant but every time I think about it, I think of the side effects and I just don’t want to deal. The one my psych wants to put me on has nausea as the most prominent side effect. Nearly everyone I know that has been on it has gotten sick the first week of starting it. I am not sure I can last a week of feeling nauseous all the time. I do have Zofran to help with it, if need be but I don’t want to be taking a med to counteract the other med. I did that with the other antipsychotic I was on. I don’t want to do it again. It is a trial and error. It could not have any effect on me.

Since getting up, I have been thinking of going in the hospital. I have been ambivalent about going in. I am weighing the pros and cons, which right now, it is mostly cons, starting with at least a 12 hour stay in the emergency room waiting for a bed. I most like will have to change into their clothes, which is like scrubs. The hard part is trying to leave the house without someone noticing I am leaving with my backpack and duffle bag. Probably the only way is to leave the house really early in the morning before my sisters leave for work. I just have to remember to grab my journal in my every day backpack. I feel like I should bring my power cords just in case I don’t go to the hospital I prefer.

Doesn’t look like I will be doing anything today as I need to take a nap. Maybe later in the evening I will when I can’t sleep. God I feel so horrible. Maybe some sleep will make me feel better.