Tag: psychological pain

frustrating doc appt and cookies

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

Frustrating doc appt and cookies

I had my quarterly appointment with my PCP this morning. It didn’t go well as the jerk didn’t listen to me or pain concerns. He was reluctant to give me a month’s supply of my strong pain meds and things I have “hyperalgesia”, which means the pain meds are increasing my pain. I don’t think that is happening because pain it brought on when I stand or move my damn ankle. He gave me a referral to the CRPS specialist and wants to hear what she says before making any treatment changes. I see him again in four fucking months.

I am so frustrated. Idiot won’t give me a month supply, fine, I’ll just request a refill every fucking two weeks until he changes the damn count of the meds. I emailed my psychiatrist but haven’t heard back from her. He didn’t want to listen to how bad the pain was, especially when I told him it was bringing on suicidal episodes for me. He just asked if I was in contact with my psych and that seemed to make everything okay. WTF. I don’t see her for pain control. I see HIM! If my damn pain levels weren’t so damn high, my suicidal episodes would be less. Sure I would still be suicidal but it wouldn’t be every time my pain is a 15, especially when my flares are becoming more frequent, with no rhyme or reason.

I was hurting and tired when I came home but decided to make cookies anyway. It was a recipe I haven’t tried before so I didn’t know what to expect. The recipe said it would take 15 minutes to cook. It turned out to be close to a half hour or so and my mother increased the temp of the oven 25 degrees above what they said. Then they cooked. I made them a little bit too big and thick. The smaller ones were cooked more than the bigger ones. I am disappointed because they didn’t come out right. I might trash them. I was going to give them to my psych but I’m not now because they just didn’t cook right. I am frustrated because I aggravated my damn Achilles while making them. My back is also hurting, but it was hurting since this morning. I somehow aggravated my sciatica and it didn’t help that the doc was poking me in the back to see where I hurt.

I am really tired. There wasn’t much of a mess and I tried to clean up the best I could. My mother is making dinner and I am not hungry because I had two cookies plus the dough so I am full. I loved the dough more than the cookies. I might have some of the teriyaki chicken breast that I bought the other day if I get hungry later.

I think my mother’s taste buds are going because she couldn’t taste the butterscotch in the cookies. I put 2 packages of butterscotch pudding mix in the batter. I could taste it. She said all she tasted was dough. I don’t know. Just pissed me off more than I was already.

I sent another email to my psych and now I am crying out of the frustration of being in pain and not having a caring doc. He isn’t a jerk or anything, just inexperienced I think to deal with the complexity of my situation. I miss my former PCP so bad. I rather be nervous about my weight with him than deal with this incompetent young doc who I don’t think trusts me enough to judge my pain and how I manage it. I really think if he saw me more it would increase his awareness of just how bad my pain is and how to deal with it. The meds work and I don’t think I am getting hyperalgesia from them. I also said so in my email to my psych. She should know what this young doc is saying. I get his hesitancy to treat me but is it worth him signing my death certificate because he is under treating me? I was very up front with my former PCP about this and he understood that even though I was under the care of my psychiatrist and therapist I still had low suicidal moods that centered around my pain and suffering. He really wanted to help me and make me “better”, though there was nothing more that could be done. I have tried PT and injections. They just made my pain worse. I have seen countless docs. I hope the specialist can offer me something worthwhile but I am not holding my breath. The worst thing she can say is that I don’t have CRPS but just a pain syndrome. I think that will devastate me and might put me over the edge. I have been fighting this pain for so long now that I am just so sick of it. It makes me tired and cranky and suicidal at times. I can’t just stay at home all the time and stare at my four walls or write endless blogs. I need to go out some time and have a routine of some sort.

Tomorrow I don’t have nothing on my agenda and I am just going to rest. I see my psych on Friday so I want my Achilles pain to calm down some. I really don’t have a treatment for that other than taking ibuprofen and resting it. When it’s really bad, I have to take a couple of strong pain pills to quiet it down. Baking didn’t help it any but it’s not as painful as it was yesterday.

don’t call me daughter 4

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

Don’t call me daughter 4

My family had dinner at my house. We had lasagna that my mother made. It was going good. Then after dinner we just sat around chatting. That when someone said something about my haircut and my mother shrieked and said I was hideous. She couldn’t stand to look at me. And she kept calling me a her. That triggered my suicidal tendencies.

I felt like coming out as most of the family was around. I knew I would have the support of my sisters. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it because I felt like I would just leave and never come back. I would have grabbed my lethal bottle of pills along with my other pills so I don’t throw them up and make it to my suicide spot to have it over and done with.

I still am feeling hurt hours later. I felt like talking to my sister but I know she would just say that I should just “let it go”. How can I when you own mother tells you to your face you are hideous because of your military haircut? I get no support from her at all. This just seals the icing on the cake.

I so badly wanted to correct my sister and mother when they were calling me “she” and “her”. I felt so hurt. The pain was so indescribable that I could feel it and not feel it at the same time. I was just shocked because she said it in front of my sisters, my brother in law, and my nephew. I don’t remember if my little niece was there or not. My mother actually shivered in disgust as she talked about how hideous I looked with my haircut.

I love my haircut and I think I will continue to get this cut every time I go to the barber, if I don’t end up killing myself within the next week or so. I have never felt so ashamed to be my mother’s child as I did last night. I am her first born and to be treated this way, just kills me inside.

My physical pain has taken on it’s life on its own. I have had severe pain the last three days. It starts in my foot and then travels to my ankle. I am getting more and more reliant on my strong pain pill, which is just causing havoc with my bowels. And when you have a nerve injury, things don’t move the way they should anyway. Constipation makes it worse. I have been having to push so much that at times I feel like I am going to pass out. It fucking sucks. It’s only putting more nails in my coffin.

If the weather wasn’t supposed to be so shitty today, I would attempt to end my life. I had emailed my psychiatrist that I wished I was never born. I also posted it on social media and I got the typical “you shouldn’t say that”. Why the fuck not?? It’s my fucking life. You don’t know what I have been through. You don’t know the hell my mother is putting me through. Would it be better if I just died by suicide?? I think it would be. I am tired of living anyway. I have nothing worth living for. I am disabled and there is nothing I can do to change that. I can no longer work or even go to school, mostly because I don’t make the money to go. It’s hard to come up with or save $1200 for one college class on disability. It makes me sad that my dream of just even getting my bachelor’s degree is stuck. Looking back, I should have gone to UMB to get my degree rather than an Associate’s. But what is done is done.

and so a chapter ends

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

And so the chapter ends

I woke up really early in the morning and had a difficult time getting back to sleep. It made me not want to get out of bed when it was time to get the Zipcar. It was warm and I wore jeans instead of shorts. I was sweating really bad by the time I got to the car and quickly put the AC on. I went to Starbucks for my espresso and left.

There was traffic on the highway but I didn’t care. I had enough time on the car and my therapist wasn’t specific about me being there on time. When I got to her town, I went to Walmart to buy some PJs and some shorts. I wanted to find Sox hats for my friend’s kids but they didn’t have them. I will have to look at another store.

As I drove to her office, I thought about this being the last time I would be out this way, that this would be the last time taking route 9. I also thought about all the sessions I had out there and on the phone. I wondered how many boxes there would be after 16 years of therapy. I brought a dolly just in case there were a lot. Turns out there were two, a heavy one that I guessed was my journals and books and a lighter one that had my stuffed bears.

I took the highway home and there was traffic. The Mass highway had taken down the tolls so it was just lanes anywhere they could put them, which made for hazardous driving. The speed limit was 55 mph all the way, sometime lower in some areas or if you got behind grandma Moses.

Luckily my niece was home so she helped me bring up one of the boxes so I didn’t have to make several trips. I opened the boxes when I got home and things that I had forgotten about where there. It brought back memories of the beginning, middle, and end. I had given her a lot of my writing, including a book that I was published in by the Boston Public Library back in high school. I also had given her “The Gus Chronicles”, which is about an abused kid going through the foster system. I had to read it for one of my psych classes in college. I was wondering where that book went to. Now I can read it again.

I am glad I have my stuffed bears back. One is a 3 foot bear, not kidding. He took up half the hospital bed with me when I had my first surgery 16 years ago. I had to put him on a chair so I could sleep comfortably. The other two are smaller ones that Starbucks had put out. They are called Bearistas. I was collecting them until they stopped putting them out. It was fun.

I came home with a half hour to spare to return the car so I rested a little bit. The driving was not good for my Achilles and I was sore. I was kind of shaking and realized I hadn’t had anything to eat all day other than my espresso. I decided to return the car, drop something at the post office, and then have some pizza at my favorite place. I put $5 in my pocket with my phone, which was a mistake. I pulled my phone out and the money went bye-bye. I had to stop at the ATM for some cash. It was no big deal as I needed to go to the ATM anyway. I want to get a haircut tomorrow.

I walked home from the pizza place and got hit with allergies. I started sneezing really bad. My allergies have been bad all day as the post nasal drip has really irritated my throat and my nose keeps running. I hate allergy season.

spoonie

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

Spoonie

I was finally able to shower after almost a week. I took a chance because my pain levels were low. I took a nap after my previous blog. I kept dreaming of going to the bathroom and sure enough when I woke up, I had to pee. My mother was making dinner and it was almost ready. She made vegetables and mashed potatoes and chicken cutlets. It was good.

I am still feeling crummy emotionally. I just want to hide under a rock. I don’t know if I am going to sleep good because I slept for about 2.5 hours. I’m hoping that I don’t wake up in the middle of the night again. It seems to be a recurring theme. It just ruins the whole day and it’s taking its toll on me emotionally.

I got a call from my PCP’s office that my prescription is ready for pick up. I am not sure if I will be able to go by tomorrow or not. It all depends on if I am done with my errands and such. I hope there aren’t a lot of boxes to carry from my therapist’s office. It will suck bringing it into the house. I’m kind of nervous getting my things back. It will be a lot of memories.

It’s almost 0400. I woke up around 0300 because of bloody side effects or withdrawal. I can’t be sure. My checks came in so I bought my groceries and paid a couple of bills. My bladder was calling next so I went to the bathroom. To my surprise, I had to have a bowel movement. I don’t usually have to go at this hour but I was grateful as it’s been almost a week since my last movement. Strong pain pill has that side effect. I have been trying to take less but it hasn’t been working out. I feel relieved now that I have went.

The side effects are calming down but my foot/ankle pain has ramped up. I can’t fucking win. I took my regular pain meds because it’s all I can take right now. I will be driving so I don’t want to take the heavy stuff. If it gets worse, I am going to have to. I have a high pain tolerance. I was trying to explain it to my therapist and I don’t think he got it. He wanted to know who I was angry at after I told him. Pissed me off. I still don’t know if it’s going to work out with him. I am trying to give him the benefit of the doubt as he does things quite differently.