Tag: chronic physical pain

Pain Flare up while out

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

Pain flare up while out

I didn’t carry my cane today though I should have as the weather was nasty. I thought I would be okay until I around 1330 came around and my ankle exploded in pain. I didn’t have any meds on me. It was about an hour later we left the hospital and I had to wheel my father to the exit. It was twinging on and off but there was nothing I could do about it. Damn nerves were inflamed. I was wearing boot so I am not sure if that set it off or not. I just tried to keep my ankle in a somewhat stable position and tried not to move.

We had a wait but not as long as it was on Wednesday. I brought my tablet with me but I didn’t feel like reading it. I did some reading when the called my father in. I finished the chapter I was on and then called it quits. People talking were disrupting my reading voice and there was a kid that kept laughing. It was annoying after a while. I just wanted to take a nap but I couldn’t relax enough to get comfortable. Plus my ankle going off every now and then kept me on my toes, so to speak. I wish I brought my writing with me. I could have written something or made some more edits.

I went to Starbucks to have my latte, sandwich, and a donut. I got really full after all that. I started writing in my journal. I basically brought the journal up to speed with all that is going on. It’s been a while since I last wrote in it. I wrote about how difficult yesterday was and that my psychiatrist still hasn’t answered my emails. At this point, I will be shocked if she replied. I haven’t heard from her in weeks.

I’m glad the pain didn’t cause an anxiety attack while I was out. That would have been awful. I never know what brings about the anxiety. I wish I could say this or that, but it’s hard to pin down. Sometimes I do have anxiety with pain and other times I have it without. Usually, I will have it as an anticipatory attack if it’s around the time I usually get it. It’s just so weird.

I didn’t wake up with my shoulders hurting me this morning. Yesterday I slept wrong and was in some pain until I got the kinks out. It was still bothering me throughout the day. I know I sleep funny on my right side and my shoulder sometimes acts as a pillow for me. Bad habit but I am sleeping most of the time so I can’t break it. What I did to my left shoulder, I have no fricken clue. There is a spot that hurts like a SOB and I try to avoid touching it because it hurts more if I touch/rub it. I haven’t lift anything or moved my shoulder in a weird position. It just hurts.

I mailed off Valentine cards today. One of them I sent to my therapist. I just felt like I should send her one as I have never sent her one before. Sunday is my 15th anniversary of my first cauda equina diagnosis and subsequent surgery that left me with my ankle being messed up. I spent the rest of the month in the hospital. Two weeks after surgery, I developed a staph infection and had to go under the knife again. That really messed me up. I developed kidney failure, my liver enzymes were through the roof, and I just felt like shit. I almost needed a blood transfusion as my crit dropped to a dangerous level. Luckily, it stabilized on its own, though I was still anemic. I had to take iron pills for months afterwards to build up my blood.

Three Mississippi

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

I’m feeling really depressed right now. All the events of this afternoon’s session has hit me. I don’t want to fucking live anymore. I should do what Hyde wants and just end things. I just can’t handle being in pain every single day/night anymore and my mental bar keeps fluctuation toward good and bad. I am sick of it. Sick of it all.

I am so pissed off. I don’t know why I let my therapist talk about Hyde. I knew it wasn’t a good idea but what the hell, she is the professional, what do I know. I am stuck in this suicidal mindset. Time is ticking. I have already chosen a date and this time I am not telling my therapist the date. I am hurting too much and I want to end things. I would do it tonight but I have to settle things with my damn father first.

I have been listening to Terri Clark for most of the evening. I heard “Three Mississippi” and it reminded me that I am past the number 3. I have given myself a lot of Mississippis and I haven’t gotten anywhere. I have tried to get help but it doesn’t matter. Year after year I still fight the urge to kill myself and I am so damn tired of fighting it so I am giving up. My life is just not worth living anymore.

I know my therapist will be devastated. I have tried to warn her to drop me but she still holds on. She should have dropped me years ago. I don’t know why she didn’t. I will see her one last time the week that I die. I have tried everything I could think of to keep the demons at bay but they are just too powerful for me. She has tried, too. I just can’t be fixed. I am too broken.

“Humans”

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

Humans

We were at my father’s appointment and they were running 45 minutes behind. When we asked for an explanation, the nurse said “humans”. I kid you not. Like what the fuck aren’t we all? I was more pissed than I already was. So a ½ hour appointment took three damn hours. I hadn’t had lunch and was starving by the time I got home. The last time I ate something was around 0630.

Other than this appointment from hell, my day went okay. Next time I will be bringing a book because I am not going to stare at the ceiling for two hours. Waiting for three hours, killed my ankle. I am hurting but I can dope up on meds and not deal with my father until Friday, though I expect him to call me because the doc changed his meds around. I had to count them to see if I put in all of them in the box. I was tired as the bus ride to his house gave me anxiety again because another monster stroller came on. There was already a wheelchair person on the bus so the front was congested and I headed to the back to get some air.

My blood pressure pills finally came today. They took a trip around the US, going from New Jersey to Connecticut to Illinois to Boston. I am glad they got delivered because I had one more morning dose and then I would be out. I would have had to take from my night meds and that was something I wanted to avoid because my brain can only hold so much information these days. I also got my allergy pills today, something I was not expecting until next week. I just hope tomorrow my Pearl Jam bag gets delivered. I feel I deserve this expensive bag for dealing with an imbecile bastard father. The bag cost $90 and is the most expensive bag that I will own. It’s made by Patagonia, which is why it is so expensive. Tack on the Pearl Jam label and well they have to get their royalties too.

I should have brought my Roots story with me to edit it. I meant to print it out but it was raining and I didn’t want soggy papers so ditched it at the last minute. I didn’t bring my tablet for the same reason. I will bring both on Friday when we have yet another appointment.

I haven’t heard back from my psychiatrist about getting an appointment from her. I am tempted to call her office and demand one. But I don’t think that will fly. I am sure she reads the email, plans on responding and then gets distracted, never responding. Least that is what I hope happens. I will need a refill on two of my medications by the time my father is done with all his appointments. I have explained this to her in the last email I sent her. I just have anxiety when she doesn’t respond because I don’t know if she is mad at me and that is why she is not responding or if she is just in email jail and can’t respond. Or she had a brain fart and forgot about responding.

I got therapy tomorrow and I think I am going to go to Starbucks in the morning so I can have some me time. I really want a soy latte and their breakfast sandwich that I love. I will print off the roots story and see if I can play with it. I want to get this baby up to 2000 words and I am falling short.

Oh, and hold the presses! Mary Chapin Carpenter, my favorite artist of all time, is coming out with a new CD in May! I cannot fricken wait. I think I can get it in vinyl but a CD will suffice. My mother hogs the TV room where the turntable is so I would only be able to listen to it late at night or when she is out of the house. I rather listen to it in my room. New music from her is going to be heaven. She has such a calming voice on me. I always listen to her when I am in need to calming or need to relax. She has an orchestral album that is very relaxing. That came out I think two years ago. I would LOVE to hear that album at the Boston Symphony. It would be epic!

Hyde here

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

Hyde here

I am feeling really suicidal. I am in pain and I just can’t take it anymore. I almost sat on my glasses and that set things off. Now Hyde is out and I can’t get him back in. He has been quiet for a long time but he wants to talk so I am going to let him. I am safe. This is just his words…

My heart is broken and I don’t know how to fix it. I have tried to with therapy and medication but it seems that no matter what I do, I can’t fix myself. So why can’t I just kill myself? I have no meaning here. I have no purpose. Sure I take care of my bastard father but he doesn’t care if I live or die. I don’t think many people will care if I die.

Tonight my feet were cold so I put on some thermal socks. They were on for a couple of hours and then my feet got really hot. I now have an indentation on my bad foot were the sock dug into me. My foot is still swollen from yesterday and it hurts really bad. I don’t know why I have to live like this. I thought I was a good person but I guess I am not.

I don’t want to be a writer like my psych team wants me to be. I can’t write for shit. Sure I can blog, but that isn’t the same as writing a book. I added owls to my story and it sucks. I don’t know what I was thinking. I am such a bad writer.

I am very tired of trying to stay alive. I should kill myself. It makes no sense to go on. My heart always hurts worse than my foot. Least my foot can get relief with medication. But nothing helps my heartache. I am trying to stay awake to write this. I haven’t been out in so long. I just want to die and push up daisies. Or not even that. Just spread my ashes behind the City Yards near the water. That is my favorite place in the world. I wish I could go there often but I don’t have a car anymore and it’s too far to walk. I didn’t want to live past 40 years. I had every intention to die but my stupid fucking loser of a therapist wanted me to live. She is such an idiot and Jack agrees with me. He hates her really bad. I don’t know why.

I got to go. Meds are knocking me out. Just know that I really want to kill the host and I hope I will succeed one day. Soon as I figure it out, I will do it.