Tag: bipolar disorder

No Hospital

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, suicide

No Hospital

I met my new PCP. I really like him. I had to correct him on a few things in my history but for the most part, he got things right. Unfortunately, he had no new news for me as to why my ankle hurts, which I didn’t expect him to. He has agreed to treat my pain and the best news is that I don’t have to see him every fricken month for a script. I can ask electronically and then pick it up, which is easier than mailing! We talked about my weight and he said the thing was portion control and making a few cuts to the diet. I told him I switch drinking mochas to having espresso with soy milk. He liked that idea. I told him my appetite varies with the depression. He was understanding. He didn’t go into a frenzy when I brought up my suicidal thoughts. He felt I was covered with a psychiatrist. He did ask if I ever overdosed on my medication and I said no. I will never do so. I didn’t have to give a reason as he was satisfied with that answer.

He gave me a tetanus shot because I was overdue for one, which was fine. He asked me if I wanted a flu shot and I said no. I don’t like them. The last one I was sick for two weeks and refused to go through that again. I am glad he didn’t want to do anything special about my pain like send me to a new doc or something. He does want me to look into CBT as a way to help with my depression and pain cycle. Dude doesn’t know me so I will let that pass. Even my psychiatrist was like it is not going to work for you. So I have that going for me. DBT might be the short term fix. We’ll see.

After the appointment, I headed over to my psychiatrist’s building and waited as I had an hour to kill. She sent me an email around 1 asking if I could see her at 4 because she was tied up at the dentist. I said sure. At this point, I still didn’t know if she wanted me to go in the hospital and I forgot two things I absolutely needed if I was going in tonight so I went home to get them. While I was home, I relaxed a bit and took a pain pill. I should have taken a trilafon but I fucking forgot. I got to use an app to remember to take it as I keep missing doses. I decided to pack a little overnight bag just in case my psych wanted me admitted. I packed some stuff and then left for the bus. It was fucking late and I was afraid I would be late for my appointment. I got there with ten minutes to spare.

She apologized for having to reschedule. I told her it was no problem. Seems she forgot what we talked about yesterday and the hospital was out of her mind. SCORE. We talked about the new PCP and she read his note while I was talking. By this point, I was getting edgy because I hadn’t eaten anything since 0900 and the waiting room got on my nerves. She is a child psychiatrist so the waiting room was full of kids. I was starting to feel paranoid and regretted not taking the trilafon when I was home.

I told her how anxious I was because I haven’t eaten and she apologized for keeping me out so late. I told her it was okay. I didn’t mind the delay. She asked what I felt because it didn’t appear to her that I was agitated. I explained how I felt and then got into describing how CBT isn’t going to work for me because there is no linear pattern to my pain. What causes it to hurt today, won’t cause it to hurt tomorrow. I didn’t bring up the hospital and she didn’t mention anything about the carryon bag I had with me. I wasn’t in the mood to be admitted. I just wanted to go home and put my feet up. I see her in two weeks and I got my trilafon order right. She gave me refills too, and I was happy. Now I just got to remember to take the suckers.

I got home to the Square and went to Chipotle. I wanted a burrito. It was quite messy and I got guacamole on my sweatshirt. I was starving and ate the whole thing. I made sure to clean my face and hands as best I could. Then I waited forever for the next bus. I stood because I didn’t feel like sitting. I knew either way I was going to hurt. My right Achilles started hurting while I was waiting. I went to the pharmacy to pick up my scripts. The trilafon wasn’t ready yet so I had to wait. My mother called me while I was waiting, wondering when I was going to come home. She made dinner for me but I told her I ate out. She got mad. Oh fucking well. She made spareribs, not my favorite meal. It can be her lunch tomorrow.

possible admission

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, suicide

Possible admission

My psych called me after my last blog post. I was too drugged up to write what she said so I will write it now. She would like me to consider admission to her hospital where they have a med/psych unit. I told her let’s see how today’s appointments go. I packed a bag just in case. I have been up since 0330. I just finished taking a shower and ready to take a nap.

I have never been to this floor so I don’t know what to expect. I could be there a few days to a couple weeks. I just don’t know what the doctors are like or the nursing staff. I won’t carry my bags to the hospital, but I will leave them where my sister can get them to bring to me. It was easy packing as I really didn’t unpack since my last admission in May.

The shower wore me out. I feel like a ton of bricks have fallen on me. I had to shower because below my fat belly was a scratch that has become annoyingly irritated. I had a bandage on it and the adhesive irritated me more than the scratch. I had to shower to remove it before I caused more scratches. My skin is very sensitive and doesn’t take long for me to remove skin while scratching.

I hope this won’t be my last blog post for a while. I hope to have use of my phone while in the hospital. But if I don’t, I guess I won’t be blogging. I will write later if I can.

Pain changes

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, suicide

Pain changes

I used to have pain that began anywhere between 1800-2300. Now it’s starting to happen around 1400 in the afternoon. WTF. It’s the same type of pain I experience at night, only earlier in the day now. And it lasts well into the evening. Because it’s day time, I can’t take a full dose of meds unless I know I am doing absolutely nothing the rest of the day because I am basically drugged up. It usually knocks me out and I sleep, which messes with my night time sleeping. Today I took one pain pill when I came home from Starbucks and then paged my psychiatrist because I felt uneasy.

I was supposed to kill myself today, so this pain isn’t helping that feeling of wanting to die. I told my therapist that I would use my crisis response plan if I was in trouble. I am not to the point of needing to go to the ER but I do need to talk to my psych because she can help calm me down. My therapist will just get excited and be no use to me then have to get off the phone with me, leaving me feeling in worse shape before she called. Least with my psychiatrist we can come up with some kind of plan until I meet with her tomorrow.

I took an Ativan because my anxiety was getting up. I feel mellow now. I also want to sleep but my psych hasn’t called back and I don’t want to miss her call. I guess it’s good that I am not anxious because I was going to ask her what the quickest way to amputate your limb would be, chainsaw or a sawzall.

I just had dinner so I shouldn’t have to go downstairs anymore unless I have to use the bathroom. Or want a snack. But I will only snack if my pain levels return to normal (which they won’t) or my doc calls and calms me down so I don’t do anything to harm myself in the mean time. I am so sick of this shit. The pain has taken a life of it’s own. I can understand hurting at night when I have done nothing all day. But to bother me in the day time hours, too? NO, I won’t stand for it. Something needs to be done. Though what that is, I have no fucking clue. I am sure my PCP that I see tomorrow is going to be just as clueless. Least my pain meds work on the pain so I don’t need to change meds.

Thing is, I didn’t do anything different today than I normally do. I didn’t stand for hours on the train or waiting for the bus. I didn’t walk more than I normally do. I was having an okay day until the damn pain hit. Then everything went out the fucking window and I wanted to fucking die. I still feel that way but it’s more manageable since I have taken the Ativan and pain meds to control some of the pain. I would love to take a nap but it’s too late for it. I will just take my meds early tonight and try and see if I can sleep at a decent hour. I got to leave the house early tomorrow. I just hope my pain doesn’t get worse as time goes on. Or the pain meds wear off in the middle of the night and I am in excruciating pain. That always is my worry.

Reflections of Yesterday’s therapy session

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, suicide

Reflections of yesterday’s therapy session

I woke up hangover after all the Neurontin I took last night. I wasn’t surprised as I knew I would be. I needed coffee but I just missed the bus and had to wait an hour for the next one. I goofed off on the laptop and got ready to go out.

The homeless guy I met last week was on the bus. He didn’t appear to acknowledge my presence so I just kept my distance. I got to Starbucks and ordered my espresso with a breakfast sandwich. I had been craving to have their sausage, egg, and cheese. I then played with my phone while I ate before writing in my journal.

I started writing in my journal about yesterday’s session. I’m not sure how our sessions are going to be now that she feels inadequate. The whole thing is making me feel like a jerk. If we do get an “adjunctive” therapist, how will our sessions be? I can’t imagine having two therapists where we talking about the same things in therapy. It’s just going to be draining on me and useless time for me. I don’t understand why she can’t be the “therapist” and work on my fucking issues. She did before. I don’t understand why things have changed. And it’s frustrating me because I have to wait till Tuesday to get these questions answered. Plus the holiday is coming up so I know there is going to be NO ONE to see me until after the holidays, if she is able to find someone.

The whole thing is freaking me out and thinking she doesn’t want to work with me anymore but still wants to be in contact with me no matter what. How is that going to fly? I know in the past while I was seeing a therapist in my hometown we still met with one another. But it was mostly to bitch about how the session went with the other therapist. I don’t want that to be the focus of each session. It will be ridiculous and a waste of my time. As it is, she still wants to know every fucking detail of what goes on with my psych appointments. If she wants to know that badly, maybe she should accompany me to them, for crying out loud. I think that is to waste time on her part so we don’t have to talk about other matters.

I remember a time when before my suicidality clouded everything we did, she used to be able to center me and give me real therapy. We had a good working relationship. And we still had it even though we talked over the phone the majority of the time. Then something happened and she blew of course. Symptoms of my PTSD were listened to but no advice given, same with the anxiety issues that popped up with the pain levels increasing. Seemed that we spent more time talking about my damn pain syndrome than about therapy itself and what would work for me. Each session, we just went with the flow while my suicidality flew out of control. She could barely contain it anymore and I was just going from one death date to another, searching for hope that just wasn’t there anymore. Her love and care for me were enough to save my ass from my self-destructiveness. This is something I have told her time and time again but again it fell on deaf ears. She felt it was enough because she was the therapist and I was the client and that meant we had the unbroken rule that I wasn’t to die by suicide by any means, no matter that my life turned into a whirlwind of pain and despair.

Sometime this year, when I became psychotic after my father’s death, I became disconnected from those around me. I still feel disconnected. It’s not that I don’t know I am loved or cared for. It’s just that I can’t feel these things, only sadness, depression, and misery. The physical pain takes care of the rest. I have tried to feel more connected but I just don’t feel it. It’s hard to empathize and sympathize with those around me. I feel like I am giving people the cold shoulder most of the time and I don’t mean to because that is just not who I am. I have bouts of crying that come out of the blue with no feelings attached to it. It’s strange to feel so much feeling and not know what the fuck they are but tears continue to roll down my face. I know part of it is the grief that I have not felt since my father’s passing. When he died, I shed not one tear for months now. I just am not in touch with my feelings anymore, hence this disconnection I feel.

My therapist thinks it’s because of the psychosis and anti-psychotic med that are causing this to be so. She called it the “negative symptoms of psychosis”. I still have no idea what the hell that means. I could look it up but I really don’t want to know. Funny, I used to know psychotic symptoms like the back of my hand but that was years ago and now I just have forgotten. I haven’t discussed the issue with my psychiatrist because I don’t think it’s worth the time to be discussed. I am not worried about it and frankly don’t care. I rather feel disconnected anyways. It’s safer than having feelings.