Tag: psych hospital

Progress?

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

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Progress?

I finally cleared off my bed of most of the books and clothes that had accumulated on the corner of my bed. I also cleared my “office”. Now I just need the motivation and energy to change my damn sheets. I rewarded myself with clearing my bed by going to Starbucks and getting a cold brew vanilla sweet cream iced coffee. I was then rewarded with my bowels going haywire soon after reaching home. I seriously thought I sharted but it was just air, thank goodness. I am now exhausted and my ankle is giving me grief so no sheet changing. Least not for now. My back has been having cramps since I left Starbucks so I am just going to rest. I still have a little stuff on my bed that I need to clear off but the majority of my bed is clear.

Today’s word prompt is “Playful”. It’s funny how these words that don’t have any particular order have significance in my life. I was reminiscing with the voices the other day about how my father hated any type of play that my sisters and I did around him. During one of his angry rages, he broke a treasured chess set that I got for Christmas one year. I never forgave him for breaking it on me. Still haven’t. He never apologized for breaking it and he knew I was upset over it. I tried fixing this set but it was not really the same afterwards.

Another time, I was at my then little cousin’s house. We were playing and I came out of his room with one of his toys because they were really cool. I forget why I left the other kids, but my father flipped the fuck out, saying I was not a kid and shouldn’t be playing with toys. I was like 12? It really hurt me and I cried I was so upset. I think I went in the bathroom to cry. My cousin’s mother saw this and said it was okay for me to play.

Both times that I have recounted this story, it brought tears to my eyes. I think it was the kindness my cousin showed me that proved that not all parents are bad and mean like my father. I have other memories that are painful but I won’t rehash them today.

I got an email from TSPN (Tennessee Suicide Prevention Network). They apologized for taking my work without my permission. They said they would inform me in the future if they want to use my work for their newsletter. They also encouraged me to contribute more things to them, if I desired. I think I might write up something for them. If you are an attempt survivor and want to contribute your story, contact them through http://www.tspn.org. The name of the newsletter is called “can you hear me” (CYHM).

When I came home from Starbucks, or as I was on my way home, I became really paranoid. It was very scary. I thought people and objects were talking to me. As a bus drove by a van, I could have sworn it was talking to me. I couldn’t wait to get off the bus. I have never been psychotic like that before. I took a trilafon when I got home because I was so agitated. I am feeling a little bit better now. I wish my psych was available. I would page her to let her know this happened. I still feel kind of uneasy. But the trilafon is helping me so I don’t think I need anymore meds to feel calmer. The nice thing about this drug is that it lasts for at least eight hours so I should be covered until I take the abilify tonight.

Speaking of abilify, I was reading a blog today where the blogger was having bad side effects from the medication. She is experiencing agitation, more mental than physical and it’s making her feel suicidal. She carefully weighed this drug over many others before taking it. I guess the Seroquel she was taking was no longer working for her so she needed to switch meds. She is also experiencing insomnia. Not good for someone who has bipolar disorder. I hope her psychiatrist gets back to her about what to do and she seeks help before acting on her urges. I wanted to comment on her blog but I had no advice as abilify has worked well for me, aside from the extrapyramidal symptoms I experience every now and then. I take Ativan to counteract them. Otherwise, I would be so screwed. I have noticed that as I have gotten older, my psychotic symptoms have gotten worse. I used to be able to take an anti-psychotic just when I was having symptoms. But since 2008 when I had a psychotic break, I can’t stop my meds at all. Even missing a dose can send me into a psychotic delusion. I have been on many meds for psychosis but they have had serious side effects. I can make a list but there is no point. It’s an exhaustive list. You name it, I probably have been on it (unless it’s come out after 2009). The only class of drugs that I have NOT been on are the MAOIs. That is because I don’t like the diet restrictions these medications have. I am lucky that the current regimen that I take suits me.

Four Weeks

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

Four Weeks

Today marks four weeks since the passing of my father. I have been tearful most of the day but have yet to cry. I saw my psychiatrist today and I said as long as you don’t jerk me, I shouldn’t cry. She agreed and said that wasn’t her job. I was thankful. I really didn’t want to cry because I am afraid once I start, I wouldn’t stop. I rather do it in the privacy of my room than public places. I have been trying to get used to the time I have on my hands now that he is gone. The worry is still there that he needs help with something or other, but I know it’s not really there. I don’t know if that makes sense or not. My schedule has suddenly been free of his doctor’s appointments, which I am glad because it took so much mental energy and physical to take him somewhere. Then of course, you had the wait and the longer you waited, the worse it was. Sometimes I wanted to take away his watch so he wouldn’t tell me the time, like I didn’t know it myself. Man, he drove me crazy.

It’s little things like that that I miss. For good or bad, he was still my father. I still remember the day he died like it was yesterday. The last image of him being alive is still with me because I stared at him for quite sometime before leaving the room. He died not too long after, maybe a half hour to forty-five minutes later. We’ll never really know the true time of death because although we were with him, we weren’t in the room when he took his last breath. The nurse that came an hour later listed the time of death as 1645 but I say it was an hour earlier. Course, I can’t pronounce people dead. But I did get to witness it. I hope I never do again.

My psych told me she is on vacation for a week but might not have access to email. If I needed someone, I am to page the covering doc. She is worried that the increase in sertraline is going to cause a hypomania episode. I doubt it will happen as it never has in the past when I was taking it. I still feel pretty low despite feeling okay at times. She asked how my sleep was and I told her I was getting 5-6 hours a night, which is my norm. She raised her eyebrows in concern. I told her I would be okay and will call if things escalated. I don’t think they will.

I got Pad Thai for lunch from my favorite restaurant. I haven’t had it in so long. It’s hard to get good Pad Thai outside of Boston. I live on the out skirts of Boston but it’s not that far away from me. I love the city with all my heart and soul more than the town that I live in. I hate the town I live in. It’s hard to get around because you need a damn bus to get you anywhere. And I can’t walk the mile to the station anymore. I wish I could but I would be paying for it and if I could, I wouldn’t be disabled anymore. I could go back to my job in the lab and deal with the fun of the labels being down every other day because of the new system. It sucks because although I saw my psych change the strength of the sertraline when she ordered my prescription, the system didn’t change it so I am still taking 4 fucking pills. She has to change it or send me another prescription for a higher quantity or I am going to be out of meds in less than a week. Fucking system sucks. Then she told me there was a front page article about it in the Globe. I am going to have to look it up and read it to see if it is positive or negative. I know it’s giving docs a hard time because it’s just so damn complicated. It really makes clinical work a bitch instead of making it easier. I have a feeling that is why my great PCP left the practice. It would mean more time on the damn computer than actual doctoring.

My psych wants me to send her my blogs. It’s been a while since I sent her one. Maybe if I write one later I will send it. It’s been a while since I wrote two blogs in a day. Maybe I will write up the story of my father’s last two hours. I might add to it if I write it out. I just don’t know if my movie will start being intrusive like it was a few weeks ago.

I think my psych now knows what I wish to be called. She thought it was Alex but it’s not because I changed it more than a year ago. I told her I would change it legally sometime this year because I really hate my birth name. I just need to get my birth certificate from the town I was born in as I have no clue where the one I had is. I told her how perplexing it was to be transgender at the hospital I was in. I had to play the “female” role for a while because I was in a double room. It was stupid. But that is because the hospital that admitted me doesn’t know I am transgender. My psych knows but that is the only clinician that does. My ex-PCP knew because I told him while I was in a hypomanic state during my last physical. I don’t know why it’s easier to come out during a hypomanic state than it is in a depressed state. I think it’s because you have a tighter grip of reality while depressed than when you are hypomanic. I got to get my haircut this week. Now that I finally figured out the way I like it cut, I think it will be styling.

Blustery Sunday

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

The wind has been howling all day and doesn’t look like it’s going to stop. It’s nice because it’s cool out. My room is no longer 100 degrees and I have a long sleeve t-shirt on.

I feel blah. I woke up again at 0300. I had to pee but was able to get back to sleep afterwards. I didn’t sleep restfully as I felt I was waking up every hour. Then I felt sick. I think it was because of a migraine. If I wake up feeling nauseous tomorrow it might be because of the zoloft. I might have gone up a little too quickly.

What really sucks is I want to brush my teeth but I am afraid I will vomit. I’m waiting for my stomach to settle down.

I’m very sleepy from taking my morning meds. I think I got to stop the ativan as it’s just knocking me out. I hate taking the meds as I don’t take it in the morning like they prescribed. My psych just wrote it that way so I would have it for prns.

Last night I had a hard time. I was trying to work on my essay of the last two hours of my father’s life and I got wicked upset. The “movie” started playing and I couldn’t stop it. I remember giving him his last dose of medication and then he died soon after. It still feels surreal. I don’t know how to get through this. No one prepares you for losing a parent. When I think of all that my sisters and I have gone through the last few months, it’s tough. He didn’t die alone. He died in his bed and not some nursing home. I keep replaying all that stuff in my head. But the last two hours have stuck with me more than the months previous.

Once I finish writing the story (it’s on a notepad), I will type it up. I might publish it on my blog. I’m not sure. I know it might be password protected so my therapist and psych can read it. I just wish I could plow through and write it even though it’s difficult.

I hope to be discharged Tuesday. That might not happen. I will be upset if it doesn’t. If I didn’t have my stupid pain management appt Friday, I would stay longer.

Sleepy day on the unit

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

I didn’t get much sleep last night. I must have slept for two hours before I woke up in pain. So I had to ask the nurse for one pill to calm my screaming ankle. It took a while to get back to sleep.

The crier on the floor was quiet so I listened to some music quietly as I didn’t have my headphones. I fell asleep for another two hours and I have been up since.

I met with social worker and doc separately. The social worker said she would work on partial hospitals but I really have no interest in them. I think I got a good team finally that is willing to work with me rather than give me empty promises.

The doc is willing to increase the zoloft to 100. I am to go up tonight and watch for manic symptoms. I never has manic symptoms with zoloft. I told him I want to go up to 100 mg as he was thinking 3 times what I take now. I just don’t want to get sick.

I texted my therapist about writing about the last two hours of my father’s life. She said it might be good to work on it while I’m here. Even the doc I saw said it could be helpful. So after I took my nap, I started working on it. I got to where we were waiting for the elevator at the nursing home then stopped.

This isn’t going to be an easy paper/essay to write. I told my contact person I was going to start writing it just in case I become unglued. I know I don’t have to write this. But I’m hoping that if it’s on paper it won’t bother me so much. It’s like a movie that keeps playing in my head.

I emailed my psychiatrist to let her know who my team was. I didn’t say anything else other than I was still depressed. It really sucks battling depression for so long all the while losing a parent. He might not have been the best, but he was my father.