We don’t have to talk, I just want to hear your voice

We don’t have to talk, I just want to hear your voice

So I am going to try and crank this out as the Sox are playing and Luke Combs, Lady A, and Matt Snell continue to break my heart. This maybe long as there is a lot of stuff to talk about since I haven’t written in a week. So grab some coffee or something.

I’ve been battling a UTI (urinary tract infection) for the past week and a half. My pcp did not consult with me on antibiotics so the first course of treatment did not work. I finished on Sunday and Monday I had the foul smelly, cloudy urine again. I had called the pcp office but it was late in the day and no one got back to me. Tuesday I was able to get a hold of the idiot RN and told him my symptoms. I had an appointment with the new therapist and hoped he would get back to me as I was passing blood at this point. My results came back early afternoon but I got no call from my pcp or provider letter. So Wed I am hurting really bad. I am passing blood clots, blood, and mucus and it was extremely painful doing so. Bladder pain was terrible and I kept losing control of my urine as the urges to go were not to be messed with. At one point I waited a bit too long and thankfully had a diaper on because otherwise I would have had a puddle on my rug as I couldn’t even open the door before losing it. I was getting pissed (no pun intended). I called the office and the RN said that I did have infection (ya think) and my doc called in a prescription. Again my doc DID NOT CALL ME! I asked which one and I said I have no effect with that one I need to be on this one. Wed all I had to eat was some Ramen noodles. I didn’t want to eat or drink anything. Thursday I slept all day. I only ate when my protein bars came in. I had wanted to be up before my night meds but I wasn’t so the med alarm woke me from sleep. My mother too had called which annoyed me more than the phone alarm. I had flank pain but it was minor. I had 2 doses of antibiotics. I emailed my psych to ask her if I should go to the ER as I thought I was dehydrated. We fiddled with how much I was to drink but in the end my stomach only took 3 oz (90 mL). I then felt nauseous and I went to bed. My psych wanted me to get in touch with her today. I said ok.

5 am this morning, I woke up with worse flank pain and felt really lousy. It still hurt to pee but I wasn’t passing clots or mucus. I emailed my psych about this and went back to sleep after taking some Tylenol. I just figured it was nothing but maybe soreness from not eating and drinking anything. When I woke up to my morning meds, my psych had emailed back that I should contact my pcp as flank pain is not something you get with a UTI. Shit. I knew it wasn’t but I really didn’t want to go to the ER. I wanted to bake cookies. So I emailed her I would go to the ER as I wasn’t contacting my PCP again to talk with his idiot RN. I have no idea why good doctors have idiot staff. When I got to the hospital, I called his office just to let him know I was in the ED. Within fifteen minutes my PCP calls me and I tell him what was going on. He said that was the right thing and sent me on my way. ED ran tests but in the end it was to drink more (I laughed at this) and keep the course of antibiotics. OK. On the way home, I sent a message to PCP asking him to do some more urine tests to make sure the damn infection I have is fucking gone. I then sent one to my psych. She responded by asking what did they say. I told her and then asked if she wanted me to call her over the weekend. Our last weekend. I haven’t heard back, yet.

On Monday 17 June, I met with my psych. She told me some very bad, horrible news that has left me feeling numb but really angry at the institution we worked at. Her department wanted her to step down from whatever position and she said no. So they terminated her, June 30th is her last day. My last appointment with her is June 24, this coming Monday. I still have not processed it but I tried on Wed to write something. I knew it had been more than a few days since writing a blog. For the first time in almost 7 years, I lost my words. I couldn’t even begin to write about this and still am tearing up about it. I have been thinking about her and all we have went through. Wed night I wrote her something then couldn’t sleep. I didn’t go to bed till I don’t even remember the hour. Must have been late/early as I slept almost all of yesterday. There is no way in hell I could write what the last 26 years have been like in a paragraph or even in one long blog. I wrote two pages until my brain and emotions were fried. Then I kept fine tuning it. Adding stuff, fixing, punctuating, grammar, you name it. After the third go round I said fuck it and sent it to her with a PS saying that this might not be grammatically correct or something to that effect. In the email, I told her to open it at her leisure, maybe with a few tissues and I would bring a box on Monday.

She said I would be assigned another psychiatrist in the adult department, which so far I haven’t. She wants to have a Lamictal level drawn the next time I see my PCP so if he responds to the urine tests, I will ask him then. I have been preoccupied with her leaving and the UTI that I forgot. I tried not to break down though I did shed some tears. She asked if I could come in next week and I didn’t know what to say. She just shook her head yes and I said ok. The end of June is coming and it would be our last time together for a while. She said she is trying to find some other academic home and then when she gets sets up she plans on calling me. She said her email and phone number wouldn’t change (I am not 100% that is true. I know with me, I was cut off the day they let me go. They might have different stuff for MDs.) I thought of making her my marinara sauce, which I am still planning on doing on Sunday. I wanted to back cookies for her. I am hoping to do so tomorrow if I don’t have an all nightery with pain or emotions. Last night, I realized not only did I not have a copy of my second book on ANY of the 8 thumb drives I had, I also no longer have roots holding my tree up. It was a story I wrote that I don’t think I ever published on my blog. It was about my therapist and psychiatrist keeping me here. One of the roots said goodbye for reasons I still don’t know what they were. Now the other root is leaving me and I have nothing holding me up.

Tuesday was a bigger nightmare as I was supposed to meet with a new therapist. I was so fucking nervous because I knew if she didn’t want to take me on or I didn’t like her off the bat, I would have NO mental health services at all, none! So I went to the appointment and she asked me a shit ton of questions. I carefully worded and didn’t elaborate on anything that would lead to my suicidality. Least not until she said I was discharged from the psych unit and I immediately wanted to die. She asked if I was suicidal. I said no and then asked what would I end it when I leave here. I said no. Throughout, she kept on saying my psychiatrist terminated me and I must feel abandoned. When I asked where do we go from here, she asked what did I want to do, like she had no interest in seeing me ever again. That felt so welcoming. Mind you, when she went into the waiting room she called for someone with my birthname. So we didn’t exactly start off the right foot. I told her I had a three session rule and then I would decide if I would stay on or not. Though, if at three sessions I didn’t, there was no where else for me to go. She asked who I would call should I get suicidal and I said my psych and then it dawned on me, she wasn’t going to be there anymore and fuck, I damn near lost it.

I wrote to my psych and said the therapist said I feel abandoned and I said I didn’t. My psych responded saying I may feel that way. I wrote back I would if this was good bye and it is more of a see you later, or is it? She never responded back. Later that day, Luke Combs came out with the song, Even though I am leaving, and I just about lost it. It was perfect to all the stuff I feel about my psych. This cannot be goodbye.

If I don’t write next week, please know it is most likely due to emotional overload and cannot find the words to the hurt or whatever I feel. I see the therapist Thursday.

Depression sucks despite warm weather

Depression sucks despite warm weather

I slept pretty good last night, waking up only once to use the bathroom and thankfully going back to sleep without major problems. My med alarm woke me up and I took my meds. I didn’t want to get up but knew if I didn’t, I would take them late again. I slept another two hours before my mother yelling at her sister woke me up. I looked at the time and it was about time to shower. I didn’t want to leave my bed and thought fleetingly of canceling my appointment. I just was so down. I was also irritable as the fricken TV was going through my fucking head. I have no idea why I am so sensitive to sounds lately. Just puts me in a wicked bad mood once my head starts hurting.

I took a shower and thankfully didn’t throw up as the post nasal drip was horrible. I took some Flonase when I got up to my room. With the warm weather, my sinuses were causing my head to hurt. I looked at the pressure and it was almost one point lower. Lovely. By the time I got to my appointment, I had a migraine. I had brought a migraine med with me, as I didn’t know if the headache would turn into one. My psych is a child psychiatrist so while waiting for her, a kid was playing some toy and she might as well have been hammering my head with whatever she was playing with.

I brought my barber his dinner. He was so happy. I was glad. I had one portion that I made for myself. I am glad I brought it as I was hungry. I had my coffee and a pop tart but was still hungry. I ate the cornbread around the meat. I wish there was a place I could have heated it up but I wasn’t going to walk to the café of the hospital to do it. My feet would hate me. When I did get to the hospital, I was an hour early so just sat in a coffee place area and journaled. While there, a lady came up to me saying I looked “official.” I laughed in my head as she explained she needed directions. She needed to go to a different building and wanted me to take her there. I wasn’t going to take her there as I was in the building I needed to be in. She got frazzled and I just pointed her to where she needed to go. I hardly looked “official” as I was wearing my Sox uniform top and sweatpants. I told my psych and she laughed.

I told my psych about how my living situation is changing. Though we talked about the therapist situation first. I really don’t know what I am going to do about it. At this point, it is easier to go there, if I can, for therapy. The social worker got back to me today and said I could see her to talk as she tries to look for something else. I didn’t tell my psych how suicidal I have been, though I had been emailing so I think she does know. I next meet her on the date I had planned. I didn’t want to do it and I still might not show up. Depends how I feel that week. I am still ambivalent about it so go back and forth with wanting to and not wanting to. Maybe I will just toss a fucking coin and decide.

If you are reading this day of posting (15 Mar), if you could please keep the firefighters of my hometown in your prayer, mojo, vibes, etc. I would appreciate it. They are currently battling a 9 alarm fire. People in the area are being evacuated as the fumes are really bad. I hope all stay safe.

Am I a hopeless case?

Am I a hopeless case?

My med alarm woke me up. I reluctantly sat up to take them. I wanted to go back to sleep but my bladder said it had to go. It was really quiet in my house so I thought my mother was out. I went downstairs and peeked in the kitchen. My mother was there and the TV was on mute, hence why it was quiet. I did my business and brushed my teeth. I went upstairs wanting to go back to sleep but I needed to pick up my package at the FedEx office. I was debating on how to get there. Then I got a phone call that wrecked my day.

The phone call was the social service dept at the hospital where all my doctors are (except my neurologist who is at a different hospital). I could tell by her voice she wasn’t going to give me pleasant news. She was speaking slowly which was annoying. I let her say what she needed to. The whomever decided I needed “long term care” and they do not provide it. So she gave me some other places I could try. I got upset. One of the places she “recommended I try” was Psychology Today’s website and I told her the therapists there do what you are doing to me once they hear my history. She was taken aback by that. It is true, that is why I am stuck in therapist limbo because I have a history of suicide attempts AND could possibly be in crisis, which makes therapists uncomfortable. Rather than dealing with it, they just don’t see you or pass you on to someone else. So I got a few contacts, one was a social worker referral line. I am not going to call them. I sent a message to my PCP’s social worker to let her know I was upset they denied me services.

After the phone call, I just cried. I was so frustrated and angry and when I get like that, I just cry. I felt pretty hopeless. I feel like I am just this hopeless case no one wants to take on. I still have the other therapist I put on hold but I really don’t want to go back to see him when he really hasn’t helped me in the year I saw him. All I got from him was venting my frustrations on my medical care and other stresses, like my mother being an asshole. I wrote to my psychiatrist to let her know. She told me the hospital does not provide therapy (then why are they number 1 in psychiatry???) and we will talk about this more tomorrow. I didn’t respond to the email. I had started to cry again.

I feel utterly defeated, worse than I have ever felt about not having a therapist since 2016. I keep replaying the scenario in my mind when I asked my therapist if we should end, not expecting a yes but got a yes. I was shocked. Then I couldn’t get a hold of her as it was the holidays and I just thought when I spoke to her next things would be eased out and we go back the way it was before. Nope, she was going to terminate. In a month. With no appointments in between that January appointment and the February one. Since then I had to call like seven therapist before I landed the one I saw until my physical mobility was shot. I think I stopped seeing him in January. I wasn’t getting much from him anyways. More than a few times, he pissed me off so much I would cancel the next appointment. He never asked why, just did it and never talked about it. All my previous therapists always asked why I canceled and got the third degree when I did so. In a lot of ways he is different than all of the ones I saw before. But he was okay with me being suicidal. I could talk about it with him like I couldn’t with anyone else. But that is all it was, talking. No plans or structure or anything else to cope with how horrible I felt. So even though I had someone I could talk to, I often felt alone with what I talked about because there was a lack of care with the heaviness I spoke about. No idea if I am making sense. The last straw for me with him was when he told me to Google relaxation techniques after I told him my PTSD was keeping me from sleeping. He just said it was “anxiety” keeping me up. So now I will have Google as my therapist. No one else wants the job.

Weird few days

Weird few days

Met with my psych today. I told her I think I’ve been hypomanic as I’ve been spending like crazy and have become really impulsive. I crash at night per usual or the next day. It would explain why my sleep cycle has been so off the past 2 weeks since lowering my dose of trileptal. So I am going to take another mood stabilizer, lamictal, and hope it does something. I have been having more flare ups which I feared might happen as before my 2nd CES, I was only on the trileptal. I was barely taking pain meds and nerve pain was controlled so I didn’t need gaba..that all went to hell when ces hit me again and my ankle became CRPS. But since the pain med change I was fine. Now that I have had to lower the trileptal. Omg holy hell. Flares hurt more. Like 7 days. They are getting harder to control. I am having to do whatever it takes to stop hurting. I know it will bite me in the ass but until the mood thing straightens out, I don’t think anything else will be helpful. I didn’t want to play too much with Gaba during the day because I could literally walk into walls or worse fall down stairs. I have to be careful at night with dosing and how much I drink because if I have to pee, well I am dozy. I’ve also become suicidal again. I haven’t told my therapist yet. But my psych gets it. I was in a bad flare and if I could move, I wouldn’t be here. Luckily, I am not planning again during times I am not in pain so that is good, least for now.

My insurance for mental health benefits suck. My therapist says it is the worst ones out there and he will be leaving the provider network sometime this year. So it will just be Medicare I will be billed. I had this whole idea just to use this insurance but now doesn’t look like it.

I am fucked because like I said I spent money I shouldn’t have. I have some cash but had to mail some stuff out so that has dwindled. I don’t know what the cost is going to be for lamictal or pain meds yet. It will be Monday. And I hope the starter pack is covered. I just have to watch out for rash. Great. I think I was on it before but the doctor was increasing it monthly and wanted me up to 300 mg. After 2 months I said fuck it. It would take 6 months to get up to 300 and I was on at 75 mg at 2 months. It didn’t help my pain at all, but then dose was so low. The most expensive meds are my psych meds. Monday I find out what my pain med is going to cost. Pharmacy can’t run it through until processing it. So dumb.

I see my pcp this month. I got to ask him what to do about this heel pain. I don’t know if it is plantar fasciitis or not. The stretches haven’t been helpful but I am going to try them using a belt. It is really inflamed and when I was using a gel insert I felt my foot turn causing the side where I have torn tendons to hurt. Needless to say, I am hurting. I came home and my mother was in the living room. We were talking and I turned around, nearly lost my balance. So now I am using the walker until things calm down. I am in my room and going to blog soon. Was supposed to go to my niece’s party but I can’t do stairs. Plus I don’t want to be around anyone as I am really irritable with the pain and hypomania. I don’t want a fight. Almost happened NYE as my know it all cousin tries telling me diabetes doesn’t run in our family. Her uncle and my mother, her aunt have it, my other uncle was diagnosed, though I think he has type 2 not 1 that my mother has and a lot of cousins with it. But it doesn’t run in our family. I had to walk away. She is so dumb and believes “drugs” causes schizophrenia as well as the naval service. So infuriates me. I feel bad for her brothers as one does have schizophrenia and the other bipolar disorder. No support at all. I’ve decided after NYE, I am done with them. The whole time I was surrounded by my cousins, I felt like an outsider. It was so toxic to be around them so washing my hands of them. My sister wants the nuts at her house, fine. I won’t attend. I don’t care. I had the worse flare NYE after cooking and partying. I was in agony because my foot was so swollen (also manic but whatever). I couldn’t move my big toe. It was so big. Just not worth the aggravation.

So that is what is going on. Hopefully I don’t have to change therapists because I don’t know if I can afford him once he is off the insurance. 20% is a lot when you are broke. I just have to uninstall Amazon lol fucking thing makes buying shit so easy. Lol