Tag: CRPS

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.

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.

Pain O’Clock Arises Again

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

Pain O’clock arises again

I spent most of the day in bed. I woke up really early this morning, in pain, so I took some meds to help and went back to sleep. I woke up in time for my therapy appointment. It was tough. She almost sectioned me as she gave me a choice of whether or not she could provide transportation or I could take myself to the ER. I told her I wasn’t going to do anything. Pissed me off. Then I said what are we going to do and she is looking into finding a therapist. I have no idea what the fuck that means. Guess I will find out next week.

After therapy, I had to use the bathroom. My mother made a fucking insulting comment as I walked by. Fucking hate her when she does that. Then I had the left over bacon she made and some cranberry cake. I could have finished off the cake but I wanted to save room for the popcorn shrimp for later.

When I got back to my room, my ankle and toes started their rigmarole. I took my meds and my antipsychotic because I didn’t want to forget again. I am cursing my therapist for making me stop my plan for tomorrow. I thought I would be able to go out to pick up my prescription but I will be too drugged up soon to walk a straight line, much less go back down the stairs and out the door. I will save it for tomorrow. I want to get Reese’s peanut butter cups anyways. I think that is a good reward for not killing yourself.

What was weird about the session is that my therapist didn’t think she could be my therapist anymore. I find this troubling. WTF will I be seeing her for if not for professional reasons? Makes no sense to me. I am all confused. She has it in her mind that someone else would be better if that someone else is face to face. She is going to find that someone. I just hope they take my insurance or I am screwed.

If I feel up to it, I would like to make cranberry muffins tomorrow. It all depends on how my pain levels go the rest of tonight and if I sleep. I can’t believe my pain syndrome has changed to day time hours now. Fuck. It’s just depressing that I am in pain whenever my ankle or toes feel like it. It’s hard to control that kind of pain when there is no rhyme or reason to it. I took some Ativan so my PTSD doesn’t shoot up. Once I get anxious, it’s hard to settle down and nap. I just get restless.

Incompetence and needs: A story of transference

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

Incompetence and needs: A story of transference

My therapist read my Thanksgiving Eve blog and was basically horrified to find that she is inadequate for my needs. She wanted me, again, to see another therapist that was local as seeing someone in person on a regular basis might be more helpful to me. I nixed the idea because I don’t want to start over with someone new. She said it would be more as an adjunctive way. I don’t give a fuck, I am not setting out to see a new therapist. Then she brought up the whole CBT therapist idea. Nixed that too.

It got me thinking about what I need from my therapist. Frankly I don’t know. We have been struggling with my suicidality for so long that it just goes on without a resolution. It got me thinking about the CAMS philosophy and frankly, even though my therapist has been collaborative, she really hasn’t been. She acts more like a friend than a therapist at times. It has been driving me crazy since she took up the majority of the session with her guilt talk, whether it was directed towards me or her, I am not sure. She feels like she is failing me. Hence her incompetence.

There is more to solving suicidality than filling out the SSF forms. Again she brought up if she only knew how to get me to “open up” and write the answers she needs on the stupid forms, she will feel better. But that is not how it works. The SSF just provides you with problems that need solving so that you don’t end your life. The therapist and client are to work together to solve these issues so that life becomes more tolerable rather than intolerable, a “life worth living”. I’m never going to reach that stage of treatment because maybe I am too stubborn to give up my suicidality long enough to find a life worth living. I just go about my daily business of drinking coffee, writing this blog, taking care of my family and then dealing with a stupid therapist twice a week that drives me absolutely fucking insane with her idiocy.

Maybe we have been together too long and can’t see the forest for the trees. We are wrapped up in something and our path has gone so far astray that we just can meet anymore eye to eye. Maybe we are too close because my heart was really breaking today while she was droning on and on about seeing another therapist and how she was basically failing me. Yes, she is a pain in the ass. She is an idiot, but who isn’t really? I texted her that tomorrow will be our last session. I seriously doubt she will take me seriously. I don’t even know what no therapy will look like. I don’t want to know but what else can I do? Go on with a therapist that hates me on some level for calling her out?

Usually you bring up stuff and it gets dealt with and then you move on from it somehow, someway. A few years ago, we were at this impasse. The same issues were covered today. They haven’t moved on because they haven’t been dealt with. I know what needs to be done but I am just too much of a chicken shit. And there we have the needs piece again. I could list them and they would have NOTHING to do with the list from Shneidman. But I feel insecure and my therapist, even though she won’t admit it, does too. That was evident today and it was killing me inside. It broke my heart.

I know I have called my therapist a lot of names in this blog today, but I still believe she is right for me because we have a connection. Granted right now, that connection is a little frail but we are still tethered. The last time we talk about this, we went over Shneidman’s needs. He had 20 of them and I think I boiled them down to less than 10 that affected me, because part of his theory was that frustrated needs causes suicidal thinking. A lot has happened to me this year, more than any other year to date. Problem is that we just talk about shit in circles and we just go around and around because we are just on this merry-go-round that doesn’t have a stop.

People go to therapy for different reasons. I have a whole slew of them that are basically being neglected and possibly fueling my suicidality. I could list them but if you read my blog or my tweets every day you can probably figure out what the major ones are. I know my therapist can’t do shit about my physical pain, neither can my psychiatrist. I have trauma history, a death in my family that still hasn’t been quite dealt with, PTSD that I don’t think is managed, etc. just to name a few. I read blogs from fellow friends that suffer the same kinds of things that I struggle with yet they are dealing with differently. One of my blog friends has severe PTSD and has anxiety that tears her apart at times. My anxiety, though not a principle symptom, has becoming more of a problem lately because of my damn pain syndrome. It drives me to suicidal thinking. And there is no cut off valve when that level has been reached. So far I have managed but I still plan and strategize my suicidal plan because it comforts me to know I have a way out. I still don’t know what is going to happen this week. I know I have put off my plan but it’s back on again because, why the hell not if my therapist is pulling away from me, even though she says she is not.

In my head, I think I have spoiled my therapist. I bring her treats and indulge in her fantasy that I won’t kill myself. Maybe we both are trapped in that fantasy because I am still here either way you look at it. I have tried to bring her the reality my death will bring and even tried to say if I die, here is the help you need to find. I once brought her an article about it that she refused to read. She doesn’t think I will kill myself. Maybe that is what is keeping me going but it is also draining me to keep up this front week after week. I want to die very badly, to get away from myself because there are so many things I can’t stand about me. Being in pain every single day and night is also taxing me. Knowing the fact that my pain syndrome has changed course on me hasn’t helped matters. All I can do is what the voices tell me to do at the end of the day. So far I have ignored them, but one of these days, I will give in and things will finally be at peace. For me anyways.