Writing Something is better than nothing
I woke up with my med alarm ringing. I didn’t know what the noise was but I wanted it to stop. It was ringing for a good ten minutes before I finally became coherent enough to shut it off. I took my meds and then went to the bathroom. I did my business then brushed my teeth. I needed caffeine if I was going to have therapy in an hour. I made a cup of tea as half and half seems to be a rare commodity these days. I need it for coffee but seeing as I didn’t have it, I made tea. It was strong and full bodied so I enjoyed my cup.
Therapy was a disaster. I didn’t feel like talking. It was too early in the fucking morning and I guess my therapist finally clued in that this time was not a good time to chat. We changed it for a later time next week on Tues. Just as well as I am not liking these virtual visits. It is so hard to think of something to say. I felt like pulling out my notebook that jotted down some stuff but wasn’t sure if she would approve. Frankly I just wanted to get back to bed. I didn’t care about anything else. I told her about the need to lay flat and that I have a leak. This recovery is taking its own sweet time. I don’t like it. It is too slow for my tastes. So naturally I got a headache today. Luckily, Tylenol took care of it. I was running a low grade temp last night that had me very worried. It didn’t go above 99.6 and ibuprofen took care of it. I have not been running anything close to 98 degrees right now. I am glad. I still feel like shit and if I do anything that requires effort, my heart rate goes nuts.
Last night my nephew was worried as I was so out of breath after I took my shower. It took me a while for me to catch my breath. My heart rate was bananas. I made up a container of water and then I made a container of Gatorade. I haven’t made one today. I should as I haven’t been drinking that much today. I will make a container when my sister leaves my house. I don’t feel like talking to her right now. I just am not in a talkative mood.
I am debating on contacting my therapist for another session this week. I feel like I should make amends to my non-talkative mood this morning. Part of me feels like she is mad at me but I know that isn’t true. I wonder if my therapist is sick of me. I always seem to go back and forth. Like I want to move forward but I rather do it two steps back to make sure I have room to fall. I’ve always done this with every therapist I’ve had. She is the first one in nearly twenty years to challenge me on my thoughts. She wants me to get better. The question is, do I want to?
Walking in mud today
I had an appointment today with the behavioral psychologist. I didn’t want to leave my house as I had a bowel accident soon after waking up. I lost control and was feeling shitty, no pun intended. I felt really down and anxious. I left when I had to, remembering that I had to go the opposite way I go for my medical and therapy appointments. My mother needed something mailed so I decided to take the block to the main street rather than walk to the end of my street to cross it. I felt like I was walking in mud the whole time. My legs felt so damn heavy I didn’t think I was ever going to reach my destination. I wasn’t short of breath or anything. I just was so damn tired. To get to this appointment involved a lot of walking and by the time I reached the psychologist’s office building, my right ankle was tender and tired. The appointment went well. I have one more appointment with him and that will be our closing one. I won’t have to see him again after that. My feet will be glad.
I came home and basically collapsed. I was hungry so I had the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I had taken out of the freezer. It was the Smuckers kind that was all ready made. I like them because they are already made and I don’t have to stand to make a sandwich. I then went up to my room and tried the past several hours to think of something to write. I had the title, which usually is my stopping point. I was thinking of the blog since I was walking in mud but sort of lost my words once I wrote it out. I had some things I wanted to tell my neurosurgeon but I forgot those, too. His nurse practitioner had called me before my appointment with the psychologist and told me losing my bowels was more evidence I had a tethered cord. But she wasn’t worried about it. Fuck. I have to suffer another five fucking weeks? I don’t want to be incontinent with my damn bowels. I want to ask the neurosurgeon if waiting is a good idea. I can’t imagine that as my nerve damage is getting worse that waiting five fricken weeks is a wise decision. I hope the doc reads the message and not the unit secretary or that NP I spoke to today. These nerves are fragile and I just feel like if I have to wait, I am not going to get function back. I really don’t want to cath and be in diapers the rest of my life. I will end up killing myself if this happens.
Saturday Blog 08022020
I didn’t get much sleep last night. I went to bed around 5 and then woke up around 0845 to pee and I have been up since. I got my haircut but I have yet to make my dirty gravy that I want to make. This is in preparation of my upcoming surgery. I want to have some gravy so that I can make some quick meals when I need them. I plan on making some burritos but I got to get bags that are freezer quality. I have to buy the bags my next pay period.
I was telling a writing friend about the trouble I am having with this essay I’ve been working with. She said to start over. That isn’t a bad idea. Or I could just cut out the parts that are gloomy. But I feel that if I am able to write what keeps me here then the bad stuff will be minimized and counteracted. Not sure if that is the right word or not but works for now.
I am so damn tired. I wanted to take another shower as I had my haircut but I am hurting too much. Ankle and foot are smarting big time and I know standing for 10 minutes isn’t going to help matters. I really don’t want another painsomnia episode. I also had some delicious mac and cheese my sister made. I know that is making me tired as well. I hope I can sleep at a decent hour and not wake up in the middle of the night to pee. That is the sucky part of having a bladder that is dysfunctional. I hate that I am having to empty every couple of hours because I get the urge to go. I am not sure if this is “overactive” or not. My uro wants me to be on a medicine to calm the bladder so that it isn’t crazy but I still found myself going every 2-3 hours which drives me crazy. I am going to talk to her about it when I see her on Wed. I just hope the appointment doesn’t go longer than planned because I rescheduled my psychopharm appointment to an earlier time that day. The uro nearly always runs late. But she is thorough so it is definitely worth waiting. But if it comes to an hour late and I still haven’t been seen, I am rescheduling because I don’t want to miss my psychopharm appointment.
I just got an inkling to call my father as I haven’t heard from him in a while. He has been dead nearly four years now. I miss him, something I never thought would happen. I was not happy with him at all. He abused me so severely I am still in therapy for it. The new therapist hasn’t heard his tales. I will bring it up sometime during next session. I am sure she will “love” him.
Sick and in a flare
I woke up around 5 am because my bladder said to. I then decided to stay up as my grocery delivery was scheduled between 830 and 9. I had two cups of coffee and a breakfast sandwich. After the delivery I put the stuff away and then got my haircut. I went without checking the bus schedule and was too early. I had sent a message to my doc asking if I had to see him because of the mucus being green from my nose. I didn’t get notification until after I got home so I had to go back out again. I just wanted to go to bed and sleep. I was so tired and I had a mocha after my cut. No amount of caffeine was going to keep me awake. I got to the doctors and had to wait. Office was busy. I got sent home with a “ I will live” and I cursed myself for going in. I was really exhausted and tired by the time I got home.
I was playing with my phone and had to use the bathroom. Coming back to my room my ankle flared up. I had to have my niece get my cane in my room. Now I am stuck here. I went to bed before grabbing some catheters so the next time I go may not be the bathroom. I have not been successful cathing in bed. I guess I will have to figure it out now.
I used to love Twitter. I used to get my news from there. Now, I rather be in the dark about the fucking news because every day my govt does something stupid or unconstitutional. Let this year be over so I don’t have to deal with the election bullshit (I will vote!!) and let Jan 31st happen with NEW admin that is Democratic or Pigskins anything but R. All I will say on the matter. If this offends you, I am not sorry.
Hope this weekend’s storm doesn’t kill me. My little suicidal brain has been calculating shit. I won’t get far if and only if my psych do what I told them to do. Other day when I was in painsomnia mode, the voices got out of control. I was thinking of going in the hosp but now with this cold, it isn’t going to happen. They don’t allow fricken cough drops on the unit and the ones that they do allow are the kind that a doctor has to write an order for and numbs you. I hate those kind. I also don’t think going in will be good for my bladder condition. I am too fearful of an infection happening, either because of my having to cath (if the unit allows ME to do it) or if I have to have a Foley and a leg bag. Psych unit bathrooms can be gross even if cleaned once a day. The voices are responding to the higher dose of Invega. I guess I will have to keep taking this dose despite side effects. Benadryl and Ativan will have to be my counter agents for the side effects. I switched taking it to the morning and haven’t had any sign of effects yet.
I’ve already decided that if I am still sick next week, I am going to cancel my appointments with my psychopharm and therapist. I didn’t have therapy this week because of being sick. I supposed I could have been seen today but I really didn’t want to so opted for next week. I am having the fuck its come into play where I don’t want to see either of them because I just feel so damn hopeless. I might cancel anyways or just one as I am supposed to meet both the same day but at different times. I don’t know why I do that because it kills me but it gets it out of the way I suppose. Guess it will depend on how much this virus and this flare will conspire against me and what my recovery will look like. Stay tuned…