Sadness over madness

There was yet another shooting in the US. A hospital in Chicago lost an ER doc because of her fiance. We don’t know details because he is dead. An officer and a pharmacy tech were also killed. I am so sad over this. Docs are mad continues to happen while those in government do nothing. is becoming an every day thing. Innocent people are losing their lives because someone decides to take a life with a gun. I honestly think the more this is broadcasted the worst it will be. People must be thinking it is “ok” to do this, everyone is. Makes me so mad and sad.

I had to cancel my therapy appt last minute because I was stuck at the hospital trying to give a urine sample. My bladder was retaining so damn fucking bad. I felt I had to go. I knew I had to go. I had drank more than 1000 mLs of fluid. I was full or close to it but no, I wasn’t overflowing so nothing was coming out. I tried everything. It was so noisy in the lab. Soon as I went to a quieter bathroom, I finally was able to pee. I then had to walk back to the lab to drop off the sample. There was no way I would be on time. I would have like 15 minutes with him and that would be it. I hate having to cancel. Stupid bladder.

When I walked back to the station to go home, my heel was killing me. I don’t think it is plantar fasciitis. I am starting to think the steps I take are to harsh on my heel. It is so inflamed right now. I bought some gel inserts to try. I don’t know what else to do. My feet are freezing so I am not about to put ice on. I probably should. But with the whole CRPS thing, I fear I am causing damage than helping it.

My blood tests came back. My sodium is still low but higher than it was. My pcp sent me a letter but didn’t tell me if I need to keep doing the restrictions or not. Ugh. Idiot. So I emailed him back. Hope to get an answer tomorrow. I see him next week so will probably recheck my values again.

I was so damn exhausted. I ate a sandwich and then I passed out. I have no idea how long. I woke up with a bladder yelling at me. It was ready to explode. I was so disoriented. It was around 6 I woke up so I don’t think I slept too long. I was not rested. I just wanted to take my meds and go to sleep. But i was so cold. It was freezing in my room. It is a little warmer now. It is raining again. We are supposed to have a snow rain mix tomorrow. That is going to be fun as i got to go see the pain program social worker. I am going to be blunt like i usually am. I only had one session and canceled 2. I really don’t care anymore. I am not feeling well. I emailed the PT and OT about why I couldn’t make it. I am not doing the stretches at all anymore because it flares up my foot. I had a million and one pains last night. It was awful. I hadn’t hurt that bad in a while. Then when I was just about to doze off, my body jerk, causing my left rib cage to hurt. It was such a bad night. I have no idea how I got up this morning at 9 to be out of the house by 1030. I didn’t shower as I knew that would tire me out. I wish I went to therapy. The whole thing makes me want to quit. Like why bother seeking help when I have so much wrong with me.

My thoughts are with those employees of that hospital in Chicago. What a terrible thing to happen. It happened at my workplace. A secretary shot a cardiologist one morning. I was glad I was off that day. Total mayhem with police and news crews. The news were camped out for like a week. So stupid. Hope they all can talk about it so it doesn’t cause PTSD for them. That is my theory anyway. But sometimes it doesn’t work and does more harm than good.

Hope my pain eases and I sleep. Night all.

Emotional rollercoaster Sunday

well, let me tell you a little about my day. I wake up and text my bro in law who has promised to replace my ceiling fan for going on 3 weeks now. He says he can’t (after telling me he could last night) because he has to decorate his tree and then do snow removal. Okay. Another weekend of having a potential fire hazard but who am I to judge. I am mad because I go to his apartment for some English muffins as ours I had to throw away because of mold, and he is sitting on his rump, tree isn’t decorated and the snow isn’t removed. I was fumed.

I then watch a goofy sentimental video on twitter that brings dust to my eyes. I am overcome in emotion. I then decide to use the old laptop for some computer work. I plug in the stupid cord, foot goes berserk. I had enough and it’s only 3 o’clock. Now I am really crying as I know there is no controlling this pain like it has been going on the past 3 weeks or more. 😥

I went downstairs to have dinner before BPD chat. As I was walking toward the 1st fucking step, my damn foot explodes, again. I couldn’t bear weight. The cane was upstairs with my walking boot and my sister and her daughter’s were out. I started crying again. I sat on the stairs. My mother is telling me to sit on the couch and I yelled at her because I could walk the 5 steps to the couch. I just sat on the stairs, drinking the iced tea I made, wishing it was alcoholic. I was waiting for my phone to go off telling me it was time to take my pain meds, but I never set it. Took me more than a few minutes to collect myself and the pain to calm down enough for me to climb up the stairs.

Then I decided to join BPD chat. I was getting heated over someone who thought you can’t approach someone without training. Like what the fuck. I am not a professional but I always say I am available to talk to someone if they need an ear. I don’t have “training”, just compassion and empathy, which is all you really need. I was so fucking mad. 

Then I tried copying and pasting what I wrote on FB to a word doc and half of it goes through. So I’m now using my phone to write my blog as my new laptop sucks. Pain meds are kicking in and my damn mother has turned up the fucking heat again to heat stroke conditions. I turned on the fire hazard fan. Don’t fucking care anymore. I still need to fill my med box for the week. Dont know if it is worth standing for 15 mins or so. I’ll put tonight’s meds in a bottle and put it by the bed so I don’t have to get up again.

I’m emailing my psychiatrist and telling her I’m going to take 25 mg of Zoloft as my emotions are all over the fucking place. I have been really angry or just cry for no reason. I know there are reasons for it but since coming off the med, I cannot tolerate being so emotional all the fucking time. I have enough med to last me till June, I think, if my stomach can tolerate it. I’ll try to eat something with my meds to counteract the nausea but not sure that will work as it didn’t while I was in the hospital. 

I feel like yelling at my mother to turn down the fucking heat. I truly hate not being able to get around my own house, on my own two feet. It is making me really depressed. As I was sitting on the stairs, I was thinking maybe between my mother’s insurance and mine, we could get a stair climber thing. Only thing is, I’m not sure our walls are strong enough for the placement of the trolley. Plus our stairs aren’t straight down like you see in the commercial. It has a few curves.

One of my high school friends posted on Facebook about maple syrup. Think tomorrow I’ll make oatmeal pancakes. I love maple syrup but it is too expensive for me. Maybe my next grocery order I’ll splurge and get it. I did find out it can spoil so needs to be kept in the fridge. 

in another writing mood

I have been thinking of cancelling my appointment with my psychiatrist because I don’t want to bother her but I know that if I do, it will only worry her. She is trusting me a great deal by not sending me in the hospital. I hope I don’t let her down. I just wish I didn’t feel like such a burden to her. I also feel like I am bothering her too much by emailing her my pathetically sad life story.

My father is getting weaker as we speak. I haven’t seen him since Thursday night. I am going to try and see him tomorrow but the marathon is running so I am not sure I can go. My sister goofed up the babysitting schedule. I am to watch the little one on Tuesday. I should have gone in the hospital. But I have to be available for the idiot social worker to call me.

I am feeling very exhausted and over tired. I feel safe but I don’t. I liked it better when I was in the hospital ER waiting for the psychiatrist. Least then I didn’t have a care in the world. I could just focus on me getting better. But now I am home and I am feeling slightly suicidal and like I am in a mixed state because my brain is on fire and I have to get these words out before they burn a hole in my brain.

My father is dying and I have no clue how to deal with it. How do you deal with a dying parent? No one prepares you for this. Yes it is apart of life, but how can someone that was so mean to you and now that you don’t give a damn suddenly mean something to you? I am not saying he is my buddy, far from it. But I feel so helpless that there is nothing I can do to hasten or lessen the process of him dying. This is so hard for me to comprehend. Not seeing him the last few days have helped considerably for me to “forget” about him, like he isn’t a part of my life. But how will I feel when he is gone? Will it still feel like I “forgot” about him? Will it be like “out of sight, out of mind” kind of thing? Except, when he goes, it will be forever. I won’t be able to pick up the phone and call him. Or swing by his house to do his meds.

My sister placed another task on my growing list of things to talk to the social worker about. I also need to talk to patient accounts and see when my father will run out of his insurance. I really hope he dies before he runs out. But my feeling is that it won’t happen. He is just too stubborn to die. I hate him for being stubborn. I don’t know why I care. He is my father. But to me he is a sperm donor for that was all he was good for. I have been thinking about what to write for the eulogy and all I can say is that he was a good dresser. That was all he cared about was looking good. He had no other endearing qualities. He only cared about himself. Hence why there is no will and testament. He isn’t going to leave us with nothing but his fancy clothes. Some legacy.

Saturday Blog 47

Saturday Blog 47

I have been feeling uneasy all day. I have been contemplating going to the ER for an eval, just for shits and giggles. But seriously, I just want to talk to someone neutral about what is going on and if I truly need to be in the hospital or just continue struggling as an outpatient. I was so torn that I decided to use a crisis hotline text chat to see if they could help. They gave me a support website for groups. I will check it out later. I felt better about talking with them about my father dying and it being hard to deal with. I also been talking about my suicidal urges that have been cropping up the last 24 hours. I just feel like I have to do something and I don’t know what that something is. Waiting for my father to die is not something I am looking forward to. I know it is going to happen but dammit. If I had a time frame, that would be fucking great. Like say he is going to die on x day at this time, then I can plan my hospitalization around that and things would be better. But life doesn’t work like that. I don’t even think my father knows he is dying because he is trying so hard to make it so he can go home. I don’t think he is going to go home, unless he doesn’t get state health care because we can’t afford to keep him in the nursing home at around $100/day.

I got some more Ensure because I was out. I still am not eating regularly. Coffee was my breakfast and a muffin with some fruit was my lunch. I have no idea if I am going to eat dinner. I have no appetite so an Ensure might be my dinner.

I don’t think my sister is going to visit my father today. She is already out and about doing things. She might be too tired to go. I don’t mind not going. I really find it hard seeing my father the way he is. Because his liver is damaged and is continuing to be, his body is producing ammonia more than usual. This is making him confused and sleepy. And he isn’t taking the medication used to bring the ammonia levels down because it’s a thick fluid and I think it tastes gross for him. I don’t know what it tastes like as I don’t have liver problems. Least I hope I never do.

The hard part for me is that I don’t think anybody has told my father that he is dying. I know my sisters haven’t told him and I am sure no medical professional has either. And what kills me is that they are giving him PT and OT to help him go back home when he is getting weaker and weaker. How is he supposed to go home when he is at risk for falling? Just getting him to the bathroom the other day was an ordeal. He almost fell backwards because he lost his balance while pulling up his pants. I just don’t get it. Then he was too tired to do anything else when we got him back to bed. Just changing him to his pajamas was tiring for him. And I think I am tired after taking a shower. The poor guy was ready to pass out he was so exhausted. It really killed me seeing him like this. And I know that it’s only going to get worse with time.

Because of his weakness and fatigue, I don’t think he will be a candidate for surgery for his other problem that he so desperately wants to take care of. And I think he might be dead before the appointment happens. I think I am the only one being the realist in the family about this. Sure we have made plans with the funeral home for his death but since we aren’t sure when he is going to die, it’s just putting more of a burden on us than we realize.

In the meantime, I am struggling with the black dog and suicidal feelings left and right. I know I should be in the hospital if anything for self-care, but I can’t take a chance that my father will die while I am there and it will just break my heart for that to happen. I want to be there when he dies, though I am still hoping he dies in his sleep.