Tag: CES

therapy didn’t go as planned

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, cauda equina syndrome, Chronic pain, chronic physical pain, CRPS, depression, mood disorders, suicide

Therapy did not go as planned

Last night I wasn’t too tired. The infection must have gotten a little better as I had some energy. Either that or my brain just wouldn’t shut off. I was nervous about the therapy appointment today so I started writing down stuff I wanted to talk about regarding suicidology stuff that I have learned the past 10+ years. All of it was a waste of time, least at this time point. I went to therapy and we discussed what went on over the weekend. I told her I was feeling kind of suicidal but in passing. I ask her if she is ready to be taught and things went downhill from there. She comes at me with a bunch of DBT shit and that I need to learn to cope better by using coping skills, that things with my family will always be there and I need to learn to handle it differently. I took the information in, trying to wrap my head around it. I gave the example of my foot being a trigger and how interpersonal skills would not be helpful. Understanding why the foot is hurting me is not going to be helpful or trying to perceive what it is trying to say. I mean come on, this is a medical condition with a painful limb. You cannot fucking talk to it! You can’t even ignore it! She smirked when I said this then said there was some data saying something about dealing with it decreases pain. I told her we needed to collaborate and she said we are but I got the impression that she was still in the “I’m the expert, you are the patient, therefore, you need to follow what I say.” I left there feeling really bad and unheard. All the preparation that I had done was for nothing. Even the safety planning stuff that I brought in was left for me to deal with on my own, without really going over what to do when I am in crisis or who to call aside from some SAMSHA number. Like seriously? You want to know I am in crisis yet want me to call a hotline? OK. How does that even work? She also doesn’t really like me texting her outside of crisis because she may not be available. Okay, that is fine. I get that. She did say she would make herself available if I were in crisis. Convenient for that though, eh? But other than that I am to call a hotline. Mixed messages. I mentioned that narrative was important to me and that was shot down. It was totally invalidating that she just was not hearing me out and she just wants to do things her way as it is “in my best interest.” After we semi agreed which safety plan I was to follow, she wanted to make an appointment for next week. I said no. I would see her the following week. She then said I was mad at her. I told her I would be mad at her next week because I am not seeing her. She asked why I wouldn’t see her. I wanted so badly to say because I would be dead but held my tongue. There was no way in fucking hell I would see her next week. I am too fucking steamed about how the session went, or rather, didn’t.

Rest of the day went ok. By the time I was on my way home, I realized I didn’t eat anything all day. I wanted to make a chicken patty sandwich. My mother made lazy-man’s lasagna. It was good. I had some meatballs and a sausage. But I really wanted a chicken sandwich. I made it and the bread I used had a hair in it! Totally grossed me out! I never had that happen to me before. Now I want to throw the bread away in case there is more hair in it.

Now that I am relaxing and getting ready for bed, my pain has decided to ramp up. My foot is killing me and my ankle is starting to. Legs feel like dead weight. They are so sore and I didn’t walk that far. Tomorrow I am walking more as the office I need to go is further down the street than the hospital’s main campus. I am nervous about learning to self-cath. I read the info sheet the NP gave me. I need to get a small bag to hold supplies now. I bought some small baby wipe packages. I tried to find the one that you can refill but they didn’t have them. This sucks because I bought a case of wipes not realizing they were refillable wipes, not a box box. So I have like 96 wipes and no box to put them in. I will try Walgreens tomorrow. Maybe they will have them there or a different CVS. I just hope I don’t have to pay for the supplies. I have no idea if my insurance will cover them. I know I need a prescription for them. I am hoping they give me enough until I get paid next to order them. I really hate this is yet another expense to have.

The infection is still with me as right now I feel so wiped out. Sucks battling an infection on top of everything else. I really hope I only need one course of antibiotics to deal with this infection. I am not sure if they will retest my urine after the course to see if it is gone. Also don’t know if I will have to follow up with uro or my pcp for testing. I am leaning towards uro. Thursday I see the NP at my pcp’s office that is a psychopharm. I need to get a refill of my meds that I forgot to tell the other psychopharm about. I could request it through the patient web thing but seeing as he is going on paternity leave and I need to be in contact with my pcp anyways, I might as well have her do it. Gives me a chance to meet her anyways as she is new to the practice. Then next week I will be back to see my TG doc and see the RN for my shot. Because of the nerve damage in my left thigh and the last time I got injected by the RN at the hospital, I decided I am not going to inject the T into it anymore. The nerve pain I got was horrible. So I am having the pcp RN do it in my behind. I hate doing this but it’s either that or more pain. I hope he is a good shot at this. Some RNs aren’t good. But we will see. I don’t think I have gotten an IM injection as an adult so this will be an experience. I kind of don’t like it because I have a fear of being jabbed by someone else. It is a common thing with medical professionals. It’s easier to give someone else a shot than to receive it. It will be a day early but that is so I don’t have to make two trips back to back days. The RN is nice. I sent him stuff on cauda equina syndrome. He seemed interested in it and I told him I don’t have normal function of my bowels and bladder. I hope he tries to understand it. It will be easier for me to tell him stuff should things come up rather than beating my head against a wall because he doesn’t know. It is frustrating when you want care and yet the medical provider just doesn’t get it because they don’t know. I am tired and this is going on and on LOL. Until later, my readers.

hopeless and depressed

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

Hopeless and depressed

Since last night, I have been in a very down mood. I have been avoided using the word “depressed” to describe it because the people at the hospital told me I was making myself hopeless and depressed. I sent an email to my psych about it and have not heard back. I don’t think I will so it is just making me further believe that I am making myself hopeless and depressed. The chaplin I saw asked me where I picture myself five years from now. I said I don’t. I don’t see a future at all and I guess that pissed her off because the next thing I know, she is telling me I am making myself hopeless. The case manager said I was throwing a pity party for myself. I am just fed up with these so called mental health professionals. I don’t even want to see the therapist on Thursday. I really don’t see the damn point.

I’ve been resting most of the afternoon. Other than the burrito and a half sandwich of asparagus and eggs, I haven’t eaten much. I bought a pair of jeans. I got them a size smaller and they are tight because they aren’t “relaxed”. I am not worried as I know I will lose weight soon enough. And if I don’t, the pants will just go to good will. I am tired of fighting things. I feel so damn depressed right now and I don’t even know why. I wasn’t in a great mood all day but pain has hit and my big toe is swollen again, causing a pin being stuck in it feeling. I tried cleaning out the bed, thinking there was dead skin or lint there and came up empty. I also filed the nail so it is rounded and not straight. It didn’t work as well as I hoped it would. My foot feels like it is going to cramp any second. I would take a melatonin to knock me out but I don’t even think that would help. Pretty soon the ankle will start hurting. I am getting little twinges. I am not sure taking a pain med now would be okay. It might be as by the time it kicks in, it might stop the pain from getting worse. But sometimes that doesn’t work either. I might take some gaba to try and see if that will help.

I want to send a text message to the therapist telling her I am not doing well but I don’t think it would be wise. I am not sure she would respond until tomorrow and I am already sending her 2 scheduled texts about how I want to handle my suicidality. But I don’t know if I want to handle it. Maybe I will try not to keep myself away from me. I thought of sending her my blog “used to” but I don’t think it is necessary. I don’t want her to get a million texts from me all at once.

I know part of me is depressed is because I have had to go back to wearing diapers again. The bladder cramps have been causing leaking. Every time I go to the bathroom, I notice my underwear is wet. I gave in to taking Pyridium as I couldn’t take the pain and cramps anymore. Three days is enough. I sent the uro a message telling her of what I did and that I am hoping correctly that it is just readjusting to the medicine again. If I am wrong, I hope she will tell me. I also hope she doesn’t want a urine sample as the Pyridium can alter tests, making them falsely positive or negative. I just hate that this is an unwanted thing because my bladder is not functioning properly. I still don’t know if it is a worsening of my back issues or the back issues caused it. Kind of like what is going on in my CRPS foot/ankle. I don’t know if the CES made it more susceptible to CRPS or if the spasms caused it when they sprained my ankle. I may never know. But regardless, what is done, is done. I can’t change it. Which just makes me depressed.

in a restless state of mind

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

In a restless state of mind

I had my appointment with the therapist Tues. We discussed the abuse. She asked if I talked to anyone about it. I said no. I kind of did when I was a teen but that lead to bad consequences and I never spoke of it again. Then she asked about my suicidality. She said that she had to keep me safe and I felt like we were going along the path of the “no harm” safety contracts that I swear was not going to work with me at all. But, again, she didn’t get more specific about safety. Just decided to work on a DBT skill, which I don’t even remember what it is. I am supposed to be working on it but fuck, I am in no mood to. I told her I would write the responses in a notebook but I’ve tried to find ANY of the million and one comp notebooks I have and have failed. No idea where they all went. I recently bought two. One I know is in my everyday backpack. Where the other one went, no fucking clue. My room ate it. I know when I am looking for something, one of them will make an appearance.

When I came home from therapy, I got into a fucking flare. My foot went fucking ballistic and stayed that way for almost 36 hours. I woke up at 430 am yesterday and just said fuck it. I was thinking on acting. And yet I was hindered by my psych saying I should call her when I was thinking on acting on my urges. Well, it was 0430 in the morning so I wasn’t going to call her then. I sent her an email and tried to go back to sleep. My mother can always be counted on to disrupt my sleep as she called around 11 or so to see if the goddamn windows were closed as it looked like rain. Thunderstorms were supposed to happen through today. Around 2 I still hadn’t heard from my psych so asked her if calling her later was okay and she responded giving me a time. She called before I could call her at that time and we talked. She asked why my pain is always the cause of my suicidality. I told her it is just too much. I had foot swelling Tuesday night that continued until this morning and it was so fucking painful. I had three different types of pain going on that were so damn high it wasn’t even on a scale. So I just decided it was time to end it. She said no or she would send an ambulance for me. Shit. We are to talk again on Sat. I really don’t want to fucking talk anymore. I just want this fucking suffering to end. My plan is still on. She said she has the pipeline dream of me being better. I told her at least one of us has hope and she said she will hold on to that for both of us.

I got a response from my wonderful PT about what to do about the back situation. She said there are specific exercises to help stabilize the spine and can be done in like 7 sessions. I am not sure if I want to go back to PT as I just ended. I told her I had other fish to fry and when it is done, I will be in touch. I read the report as it came in last night. I have a new herniation at the beginning of my spine at T12-L1. It is minor. The worst one is at L3-L4, which is in the middle of where I had surgery. That is the disc that has gotten worse and is near my L3 nerve root which could be why my bladder is being so dysfunctional. I feel like I am a ticking time bomb. This level is unstable. If the disc goes or if I see a surgical consult, I most likely will need a fusion. I am not going to have a fusion because everyone that I know that has had one has had more pain. From what I read, fusions were only to be for the neck, not the lumbar part of the spine. I am wicked bad at remembering where I read stuff, so not sure if it was a journal or what. Don’t even remember the year but that is what sticks out in my mind. I could be wrong. But it would make sense as to why so many people with fusions have had them fail on them. Not saying everyone with a fusion hasn’t been helped. I just haven’t found those people.

Used to…

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

Used to…

I used to write in my journals all the anxiety and fear and depression that swept through my heart. The pain of living night after night in despair so great I thought I would never see the light of day again. It was cathartic and once the words were on paper (or in a word doc like they are now), I didn’t have to deal with them. The feelings were out, I felt better. I didn’t have to remember anymore.

I used to write blogs that had some purpose, whether in my clinical papers I wrote or my daily struggles with suicide and depression and chronic pain. It opened a portal so I could share myself with others who were going through the same things. It was the last remaining joy in my life before pain took over. I have been struggling since. Where I would used to write sometimes twice a day and the odd three, I barely write twice a week, if that many. I’ve lost hope in things.

I used to go to therapy with the hope that things would get better. Despite going through 10 in a short period of time (8 years), I still held on that the “right” one was out there. Therapist number 12 I thought was that “right” person until 16 years later we ended, on our anniversary date. She no longer wanted to work with me anymore. I had been in a lot grief since that day. Took me two months to try and figure out if I needed therapy and why I needed therapy. So therapist number 14 came along (13 was the interim therapist I saw while 12 was on maternity leave). He was different from all my previous therapists. He frustrated me more than any of them put together. I skipped sessions because of the anger. Then there were sessions where I felt we were making progress but like the other therapists before him, didn’t go anywhere the following week. In Jan of this year (2019) I realized I couldn’t stay with him after he told me to Google some relaxation stuff for my PTSD. That was the last straw. I had sprained my ankle during this time and decided going to therapy and working on my ankle were going to tax me like it did before. I got physically better, telling him I would go back to him when I was done. I never did.

By March of this year, I was having serious mood shifts of suicidality. In Jan because pain had been really bad, I planned a date to end it. It was the end of March. I had some of my ducks in a row to end it. But the month came and I didn’t have so many ducks as I thought I did. I fell into despair. Pain was keeping me up. The insomnia that I had infrequently, started to become more chronic. I was spending more and more time awake than I was sleeping. Add in not having a therapeutic relationship and I was barely above water. I kept writing my psych of 26 years how bad I felt nearly every day. We were in frequent contact as she was the only person in my team. The day I was to end it, it was raining. I had wanted to end it outside in a desolate place. The rain spoiled it and I had an appointment with my psych that day. I saw my psych as I have never skipped an appointment with her and wasn’t going to start.

April was torturous. By the middle, my psych wanted me to go in the hospital and I said no. I asked her why she wanted me still alive because at that point, I felt so worthless, I had no idea why she wanted me alive other than she “had to.” She told me some good reasons that I still remember. I tried to hold on to those. I starting thinking about writing another book that would be so outside my realm of mental health but would take a lot of research to do it. It would be a challenge and I hoped I was up for it. That lasted a few days. Then I was back in the despair and this time, it wasn’t letting me go.

I used to think that the hospital was a safe haven, a place to recover and get well, learn new coping skills and then be able to face the challenges outside better. With insurances no longer covering long stays, this is nearly impossible. Some people are lucky to stay past three days. Others stay just 24 hours like that has any benefit. I was hesitant to go back in. I was just about as suicidal you could be without actually attempting and I was getting close. There were a few nights where I didn’t think I would make it through the night. I honestly have no clue what kept me here or how I did it. I stayed for three weeks and then my whole world went to smithereens.

I was supposed to see my psych the following week but she changed it to the following Monday. She said she had some news to tell me and I listened. The institution she had been apart of for 30 years was letting her go. She didn’t go into the reasons and I asked her if writing a letter would help and she said no. I have been seeing her for 26 years. My heart broke in a million pieces but I didn’t know it yet. I still had one week left of seeing her and it would be the last until she was some place else, though she didn’t know where yet. She wanted to stay in academia and Boston is the academia capital. All the while I was to see a new therapist, number 15. The first visit didn’t go well. She hammered me with questions, took my history (I tried to stay away from suicide as that freaks mental health professionals out), and who I was seeing for psych. She asked me about my hospital stay and I thought oh shit here we go. She asked what I was to do with crisis. I said call my psych. But according to her, my psych had “terminated” me. I couldn’t comprehend that. I knew my psych didn’t, she said so and she doesn’t lie. She still wanted to be in my care, to take care of me. I didn’t know if I would see this therapist again. She was nonchalant about setting up another appointment with me. I said I give new therapists at least three sessions before deciding if they would work. She agreed on that point.

I don’t know what will happen the next few weeks. I am back to being highly suicidal without a voice. My one or two places where I catharized my feelings are blank, and have been since the day my psych said she was temporarily leaving me. Wed I got a call to see a new psych and I nearly had a meltdown in the lobby of the building where I first started seeing my psych. But I had to see my pcp so had to keep things together. I have had some medical problems this past week that are still unresolved. I never thought my body would be broken down so much at 43, but then, I never thought I would live to see this age.

I used to believe I would always write in some way, shape, or form. I never thought my words would be hard to reach for. Between the physical and emotional pain, the medications I take, and the pressure of trying to stay some what alive for whatever reason when I just want to fucking die, I am at a loss of words. Some times they breakthrough the constriction I am in, the blinders that say that I should die and nothing else matters. My psych asked me if I would be alright for next week, and she said Monday. I told her I didn’t know. I still don’t know. I want to find that desolate place and end it so fucking much. The thought of dealing with CRPS (complex regional pain syndrome) without pain meds is freaking me out, especially as they don’t work as they once did. It is no fault of the medication, just the disease process. Eventually, there will be nothing that will work for it and I cannot cope with that. I cannot imagine spending my life in so much pain when I already spent 28+ years of it managing the mental illness part of me. I used to believe there was hope out there. Now I am not so sure anymore.