Tag: bipolar disorder

Saturday blog 22062019

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

Saturday Blog 22062019

I’ve not had a good day. I slept poorly and then fought with my sister throughout the day. Whenever I called her out, the madder she got. She started going through my stuff and when I told her to stop, she refused, saying that I needed to go through my stuff. I told her she wouldn’t like me going through her stuff so stop it. Then she got pissed off and wanted to through shit in my room. She was hauling stuff but I don’t see most of it. My nephew came home from where ever he was and helped me clear some stuff in my room that didn’t seem so overwhelming to him. He did a good job, I helped but it hurt. It took hours for the stabbing in my ankle to stop. It is still sore but I decided to make a marinara sauce anyways as baking cookies would take too much out of me.

I called my psych a little after three. She wanted to know how I was doing with the UTI. I said I was ok and still have symptoms but feel a little better than yesterday. I still haven’t had a decent meal. I had two protein bars yesterday and today I had some cottage cheese with pineapple and then some ice cream. I could barely finish the ice cream, which was not even a full bowl. I kind of feel sick now but at least something is in my stomach.

I weighed myself this morning and I am down another five pounds due to no appetite. I am trying to eat but I am so damned stressed with my sister and now losing my psych. I really feel like I am living with my father as I never know when she is going to jump down my fricken throat. I called her a bully and she laughed at me. Then said she needed to put a stick up my ass, but that isn’t a bully. Fucking bitch. I can’t stand living here but I have no place to go. There is a shit load of waiting lists for disabled people looking for housing, which is so fucking stupid as they are constantly building places. I don’t understand why some of the new housing isn’t for subsidized rents and stuff. Makes no sense.

As I couldn’t sleep last night and felt like I was going to puke, I wrote my psych a letter. It was a little sentimental. I cried again and then some during the night. I kept on having weird dreams. One was of my little cousin (who is 3 or 4) was on my dining room table but she was like 1 or 2. My sister (the bitch one) kept telling me my great grandmother was coming over. It was said at least three times. In the dream it was my father’s mother and I never met her. She died before I was born. Another dream had me bending for something when my mother walks by and uses my back as a support, pushing on it and I woke up with screaming in pain. That part of my back was hurting. There was a third dream but I don’t remember it now. I finally gave up sleeping around 1230, wanting to make cookies but my stupid sister was going through my shit and I knew it would be hell if I baked even though it was a nice cool day. I am so mad at her. She doesn’t understand a damn thing about what I go through and every time I try to get her to get it or at least try and understand, it falls on deaf ears.

This morning when I took my meds, I noticed I didn’t take it yesterday. That was probably why I was feeling so terrible. I thought I had taken them as I took off the alarm. I got results of the urine culture and it was negative. I hope when I finish taking the antibiotics, it remains clear. I am still having pain when peeing. My last dose of antibiotics is Monday night. Monday is going to be a hard day. I am already dreading it as I am not sure how it will be. I have so much to talk to my psych about yet I am not sure there will be enough time to get through it all. I really want to make sure that she will sign off when I want to have top surgery. Also need to work out what to do when I get into a bad spot again. The thought of her not being there is not making me feel easy. I am going to give her my business card that has my contact info on it so in case she doesn’t have it or for some reason, I can’t get in touch with her, she will at least have a way to contact me. I will feel better knowing this.

I’m glad my night meds include Ativan as I need one right now. I am so fricken anxious for some reason. I left the marinara sauce to cool and fear of being reprimanded for leaving it. I hate feeling like I am walking on eggshells in my own house! I can’t deal with the stress. I have enough of it dealing with chronic pain and trying to sleep as well as keep my appointments with my healthcare providers. I haven’t been able to do the new PT exercises. I really haven’t been feeling well and have had too much on my mind.

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

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

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.

Saturday Blog 15062019

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

Saturday Blog 15062019

Microsoft word updated and I hate it. The things are now on top and below it are your recent documents. I am sort of getting used to now. But every time I open it, I am like WTF.

Today was the first day since Tuesday that I feel awake. I was up nearly 30 hours and slept most of Wed, Thurs, and Fri. Yesterday I couldn’t get going at all. I just felt so damn tired. I hardly ate the last few days and drank little. So today when I got up, I had coffee and then left to go to the grocery store to buy my Gatorade as I was down to my last bottle. I was stupid. It is hot out and I was already dehydrated. By the time I got to the store, I felt weak. I quickly did my shopping and left. I drank half a Powerade while waiting for the bus. Some guy sat next to me and was on his phone. He then turned to me and asked where he could apply for a job. Seriously? How the fuck do I know?! The bus came and by the time I lugged the stuff up the stairs, I was toast. My stiff right calf muscle was hurting me. I rested a bit and then chatted with my nephew. I am kind of worried as he has these kind of grandiose ideas. I am not sure how he is going to go through with them. I support him no matter how hair brained they are. He needs to make and learn from his mistakes. I just hope he doesn’t get in way over his head.

After I finished talking with him, I then lugged the stuff up to my room. I collapsed on my bed and my right on cue, my ankle flared up big time. I took my meds and waited. I hadn’t had anything to eat at that point. I am out of pop tarts and the usual stuff I eat. I wasn’t able to buy groceries this month due to trying to catch up on bills. I was in the hospital anyway so couldn’t order them. By then it was too late as I had used my money for ordering Starbucks. One order they fucked up on by going to a different coffee place all together and I never got a full refund for the order.

Past two days, I have woken up with a sore throat. It gets better until I start talking and with my hard of hearing mother, goes out frequently. It still isn’t up to par right now. Today the soreness is still present. I am not sure if I got something or it is voice box changes. It happened two weeks ago when I had my last shot of T. It only lasted a day then. Hope it is better tomorrow but I did a lot of yelling as my mother couldn’t hear me otherwise.

I am so fricken exhausted. My pain levels are so high right now and I feel like I could just pass out. I am going to close here for now. Just hope I can sleep tonight without too much pain.

unrest

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

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.