Tag: chronic illness

What A Day!

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, chronic physical pain, depression

I woke up in pain, which is the first time in as many days. I haven’t been in pain in the morning in a long time. But it happened today and I could barely put weight on my foot while I was taking a shower and getting around the house to get ready for dealing with my father. I ended up taking a pain pill, something I usually don’t do when I have to go out, but the pain was so bad. I had to take something. I made myself some breakfast before leaving because I knew I would be at the hospital for most of the afternoon and will have a sugar crash around lunch time if I didn’t eat anything. That would be bad because I would become very cranky. I went to Starbucks and got my mocha, free as it was my reward. I had it loaded, with shots of caramel, hazelnut, and espresso (4). I needed the caffeine to get me through the day.

I spent most of the damn morning and afternoon dealing with my father. I had to endure his greedy stories about how bad my grandmother was to him and to her own family (not true by the way but he thinks it is). I couldn’t take the whole conversation, AGAIN. He has it in his mind that my mother’s family is living off the high horse (which they aren’t) and he has to scrape by, which he deserves because he is an asshole. I kept telling him I don’t care to listen to this bullshit (didn’t say that or I would not be living right now), but he kept talking away with such vengeance. I cannot stand him. I hate him. I really do. It stresses me out and all I wanted to do was get the fuck away from him. So much so that I nearly forgot to put one of his medications in his box, so I had to go back to his apartment after I left. He just gets me so riled up it’s not funny.

While I we were waiting for the doc, who of course was running late, my therapist texted me with a time she had available. I really didn’t want a session today but after the stories and lies my father was telling me, I think I need it. Did I mention how much I hate my father? The doc gave us a six month appointment follow up. My father is telling everyone he gave him, “6 months” because he is doing so well. I had enough of his exaggerations. And I still have to deal with him on Father’s day. I was going to get him a gift but I think I will wait until I have money this week. What difference does it make if it’s a few days late? We are taking him out for dinner. I don’t know what the name of the place is called but it’s in my hometown that I grew up in. I don’t consider where I am living now to be my hometown and never will. I hate it here, but I can’t afford to live on my own so I just suck it up.

It was cold when I left the house so I dressed appropriately. Then the heat turned up and I was dying. It got really warm by 1400. I am in my AC’d room cooling down. I don’t care that it isn’t a heat wave, I just need cold air. Because the pain in my foot is still acting up, I made an appointment with my physiatrist (muscle and bone doctor). I think something is going on with either the tendon or with my toes. Whatever it is, I am in serious pain. But I have no swelling, which is odd. Usually I only get foot pain if my foot swells, but it’s not swollen. Damn nerve damage has really fucked me over. I would see my PCP but I know he is just going to refer me to the physiatrist. It just sucks that I am having a hard time getting around today. I don’t have anything to do the rest of the afternoon so I am just putting my foot up on my bed and going to wait till the pain meds kick in. I have thought of moving it along faster by drinking alcohol but I don’t think my therapist or psychiatrist would approve. Honey whiskey from Jack Daniels will have to wait another day.

While I was at Starbucks this morning, I did some writing, but no editing. It was way too early and I didn’t have the brain power to do it. So I just wrote in my journal for an hour. I was tempted to get a breakfast sandwich but my funds are running low so I have to be skimpy. I have a 0930 appointment tomorrow with my psychiatrist so I need coffee more than a sandwich. I think I will have the same drink I had today. It was very good! I love my snickers latte.

I forgot to mail my therapist her letter, again. I totally forgot about it until I was at the bus stop. Figures. It’s just about the book review that I wrote, nothing else. WOW, I cannot believe the throbbing of my toes right now. It’s like someone is hammering each bone in my foot. I feel really nerve wracked about this. I hate being in pain and I have been most of the day. I had to walk to my father’s pharmacy to pick up his prescription and then walk to his apartment complex. The doctor just wrote for a week’s supply, which I am not happy about. I called and left a message as that is just not good practice. If it was his cholesterol pill, fine, but it’s his heart medication that controls his heart rhythm. My father has afib so kind of needs this medication. And I hate that I would have to call back next week for yet another refill because this asshole is an asshole. My father doesn’t have an appointment with him till the 30th. He could have written the script until that day, which is two weeks away. I just get frustrated with this doctor. He is always in a rush, writes shit while not talking to you, flips through papers while trying to talk to you, and I just get annoyed. He thinks I am going to jump ship to his system, he is crazy. All my father’s doctors are at the hospital I took him to today and that is where he is going to stay. I am not going to switch him to the worst hospital in Boston because that is where this jerk practices out of. Not while I have a say over my father’s medical care, and my sisters are behind me on this. It’s just sad that I can’t get a PCP at the hospital where I take him. If I worked there, I would know who to call but I don’t anymore.

What the fuck is it with my parents annoying me today?? I know I am in pain and that doesn’t help but fucking A. My mother just called about dinner and was being snotty about it because I didn’t want eggs. UGH! I need to get the fuck away from them, I really do!

Night Rants

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, depression, mood disorders

Night Rants

I am having a hard time sleeping because I am so pissed off. A friend of mine commented on my 😦 profile pic on Facebook, saying that I “should get rid of that shit and put on the other pic” as it wasn’t me. My experiment is a success. People cannot tolerate another’s sadness. It has to go underground in order for people to ignore it. Well, I am keeping the profile pic up. I responded with “if you don’t like my profile pic, unfriend me. I don’t need negativity in my life. This is how I feel on a regular basis so if you can’t deal with it, BYE!” I then got a response saying that they like the “smiling” face better. I am tired of the fake smiles. She obviously didn’t get the point I was/am trying to make. It is so frustrating.

Then I was in a chat where a fella was arguing about suicide training. I really wanted to ask him if he had any training, whatsoever, that made him think he was superior than what my friend was trying to make in her statements. That really, really ticked me off. It’s bad enough that I can’t see my therapist because she is miles and miles away from me because I don’t have a car. I can’t see someone close to me because I don’t have the right “criteria” to be seen. I am too much of a high risk because of my suicidal history. I kid you not. When I found out that my therapist was making her home office 30 miles away from me, I called not one, not two, not three therapists but 10!!! And they ALL said the same thing. They would refer me to another therapist or clinic. One therapist, to be fair, I couldn’t see because she was on the 3rd floor of an apartment building with no elevator and I couldn’t make it up the stairs. So she said happy hunting. I wish I could have seen my Twitter buddy that is in the town over by me. Maybe he would be helpful to me, even though, at the time, we weren’t Twitter buddies. I wasn’t even active in Twitter land. My psychiatrist even tried finding me a therapist and that didn’t work out. You just mention suicide and there is a shut down of communication. Or people go berserk and flip out into hyperdrive. The question on the table that started it all was if a patient was in distress, should a healthcare provider respond to that distress on social media (social media are things like Facebook and Twitter). It was an interesting discussion but after a while, I lost interest. I had nothing to comment on and what I did, it wasn’t being responded to. I left half way through the chat.

I texted my “hubby” about people being jerks and he responded on my FB page about it. I had to laugh. It was so out of context it was funny. I call him my “hubby” because of an old joke I played on a coworker. She didn’t know I was gay and when my friend (hubby) and I started to have dinner together, she thought we were married because I had my claddaugh ring on my 4th finger on my left hand. She thought it was a wedding band. Since then, he became my hubby, though if his ex-wife ever found out, I think I would be dead.

My foot is starting to bother me and maybe I should listen to the voices telling me to take my pain medication. I hate taking the pills because they are so bitter. I have to swallow them quickly or they begin to melt, causing them to further be difficult to swallow. I would take them but I feel sick, probably because I haven’t took my night time meds and I am still not sleep. I sometimes get nauseous if I am sleepy and can’t sleep. But my tummy is doing flip flops for some reason. I don’t think it liked the combination of cole slaw and potato salad. I think I will stop here. I ran out of gas for my rants anyways.

bored to tears

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

Tonight my mother will be making fish. I saw the heads and tails were still on them. I won’t be eating that tonight, because ewww. I know that is how they come but her having to dissect them just freaks me out. And it is tilapia, which I don’t particularly like anyways. It’s a very thin fish that just doesn’t taste very good after it’s been thawed out. I’d rather have cod or haddock.

I have been pretty bored today. And my foot is a jerk. Just when I wanted to take a shower to go out, it starts hurting really bad. All I did was move it a little bit and it explodes in pain. I had to wait for pain meds to calm it down some so I could shower. By the time I was done showering, my hip went on strike. I give up. I guess I am not going to go to Walgreens to see if they have the new Oreos S’Mores cookies. I will try again tomorrow.

I was looking for a photo mailer to mail a pic for a friend. I have been meaning to send it to him and I just came across it. I failed to find it, which is why I wanted to go to Walgreens, too. I need a couple of mailers as I have some stuff to send out. Why must pain always dictate what I do? It totally sucks. And seeing that I am incapacitated, I decided to write a review for a research article I came across while looking for the mailer. I must have at least three copies, if not more, of this article. I thought it was a good idea but then the pain meds turned my brain to mush. Now I can barely write this blog. I am kind of blunted in my thinking patterns. It also doesn’t help that my vision seems to be impaired. I have been having a hard time focusing today for some reason. I really think it is because I have been solely using single vision lenses for the past month and not my progressive glasses. I can’t wait till next week when I can order them. I really hope that they can make the lenses out of the existing frames that I have. I really don’t want to buy another set of frames. I have too many old pairs of glasses laying around my room. I am also hoping that if the glasses don’t cost me that much, I can get a new phone. My phone keeps acting up and it’s pissing me off. Yesterday my therapist was calling and it took four rings for the stupid call answer button to come on. I am just glad it didn’t go to voicemail by then. Usually the call answer button comes on before the number even registers but this time it was the reverse. I am so done with this phone. And if I can’t use it as a fricken phone, what is the point of it?? My therapist was kind of in distress last night. She doesn’t know what she did, but she erased all my text messages that I sent her. She was literally panicking when we were talking about it. I kept telling her it was ok, that I am sure it’s there but hidden some how. After we talked, I sent her a text of my latest short story. She said it was the only text from me. OOPS. I think she needs another phone, too, but that will give her super anxiety. I find it funny and I do laugh. She is just so anti-technology, I just don’t get it. I mean, I use my phone for emails, texts, Twitter, Facebook, and the main thing, a phone. She just uses it for texts and phone.

I am going to write the review for that article. It will be another blog post and I will share it with my therapist friends on Twitter. I haven’t written a review in some time and it will give me something to do. I have written about this article in other papers that I have written, but never solely on this material.

I thought about editing the blog I wrote the other day but didn’t. It just seems like I don’t have the brain power to get my thoughts coherent enough to put on paper. And it’s very hard to write when you have a foot that explodes just because it feels like it. Also sucks when you stand up and your hip decides to go wonky. I hate being in pain all the time, every single fucking day. It just takes so much out of me and I end up doing nothing. Then I am bored to tears. I just want to give up. Just take my life and end things so that I won’t be suffering anymore. Because me not even being able to write because my brain turns to mush due to the medications I have to take to control my pain, just sucks.

Hospitalizations: Fifteen Minutes of Fame

by Midnight Demon, posted in Bipolar Disorder, depression, mental disorders, mood disorders, suicidality, suicide

Hospitalizations: Fifteen Minutes of Fame

I had therapy. My therapist read my “Brick Wall” blog. She asked if we could talk about the bricks and we spent most of the session going over them. I also told her about my book problems, that I think it is disorganized. She said that it is her most prized possession, so I think she is biased in my writing abilities. She said my short story was heartbreaking to read. I haven’t gotten too many likes on it. I may have to play with the tags a bit. Anyway, talking about the bricks was difficult because it lead to where I was in my last hospitalization, where I wrote the story. I told her how no one was looking at the bricks, that they were just looking for the cement to dry before sending me home, so to speak. That is all they cared about. Stabilization and discharge were the key focus of what they wanted to do. What brought you in the hospital, they didn’t care about. Or if they did, it was always, “we’ll talk about it tomorrow” but never did. I hated that my needs were ignored and patronized. I flatly told them I was going to kill myself when I left the hospital during my initial few days when they wanted to discharge me. And it was true. I needed help and was going to stay inpatient to get that help. Except the help came back to me looking for help from outside services. The social worker that was working with me didn’t care about my needs. I ended up having to call places to look for outside support. I tried to get it but never had a call back or even an email back, though one place the email came back as undelieverable. It was a trying time. I wanted to kill myself so badly and yet I was supposed to make all these phone calls to show that I wanted to live? To do the work my team was supposed to be doing? I just don’t understand their mentality. Yet it has been nine months since I left the hospital. I am still here because the anti depressant they put me on really help stabilize my depression. Too bad it no longer works. I stopped taking it in December.

My therapist thinks I should write a blog about past hospitalizations and current ones. Thing is, I don’t remember much. I know things are different today than they were back then. For example, there are no longer any outside passes given. If you want outside passes, you are basically discharged. When I was in the hospital in August, they wanted to give me grounds privileges. This meant that I could go out for staff walks. I told them adamantly no because I was scared I was going to run. They gave it to me anyway. Granted that at the time, I was in an AFO so I know I wouldn’t get far, but they still took that chance of letting me go. Stupid, I tell ya. I should have gone away from the group and tried to escape. I don’t know what that would look like but I know it wouldn’t be good on either side. I would most likely get reprimanded like a child, even though I am an adult. But that would be on them. I told them I would run and if I did, it was on them, not me.

I remember a time when I was in the hospital 21 years ago. I was severely depressed and suicidal. I had attempted suicide and was hospitalized against my will, in fact the admitting staff forged my signature on the consent form. I went through my records after discharged. Anyway, back then they had ground privileges, which meant you could leave the unit unaccompanied by a staff person. Just as long as you stayed on hospital grounds. Well, I decided to walk around the block after working hours and got “caught” by off duty staff. My privileges were revoked the next day as I broke the “rules”. I never kept my privileges too long. I always did something to revoke them. One weekend I had to beg for an outside pass just to pay a bill (I was there for more than a month and if I didn’t pay the bill, my phone was going to be turned off). I told them I would be back within an hour and I did. It was the first time they trusted me to do this. It was tough because I was so suicidal and they weren’t going to let me try again, hence why my stay was 2 ½ months. That was my longest time in the hospital. It did help me but the demons were still there. I had major issues that I still don’t talk to anyone about, not even my current therapist. It’s just too scary.

Last night I was looking for former therapists. I came across one, Dr. B. She helped me probably more than all the rest. She was the longest therapist that I have seen till that point, three years. All the rest of the therapists that I have seen were year or less. I am going to send her my book and email address. I wrote about her in my book. It was hard not to include her because the opening introduction has her in it as that was my first serious suicide attempt. I had made other attempts before that one, but this one landed me in the hospital and then I was there for a long time. That is when you had good care and one on one contact with someone. Now they have these “teams” where there are all the staff from the unit meet with you for fifteen minutes or so and then decide what to do with you. Fifteen minutes to decide if you need further stay or discharge. It is nothing like the care I had 21 years ago. You met with your inpatient therapist, then a social worker, and then your contact person who was a staff member for that shift. This no longer happens and it’s sad. No longer do you feel safe in the hospital or cared for. It is the end of the era for hospitals. I will never go back, no matter how suicidal I get. They can just kiss my ass goodbye.