Don’t dream it’s over

Don’t dream it’s over

I heard this song today and am reminded that despite a long road to recovery, I am still stuck with the condition known as Cauda Equina Syndrome (CES). Today I talked a lot about it in my interview with the 1st years of medical school. There were like 5 or 6 students and three physicians in the room, one of whom was the person that interviewed me. He knew nothing about CES as he didn’t ask me one red flag symptom. He was an older gentleman so I am sure that he never heard of such a syndrome before. My psychiatrist was grateful I brought it to the students. She said she owes me one. But I don’t really know what that means. I just laughed because it was fun doing the interview.

My therapist read the last blog post that I sent her. She said that I summed up my traumatic experiences all in one paragraph. This left me feeling like “what is she talking about” so I had to read it. I always feel like my writing is cathartic so once the words are in a word doc or a piece of paper, they quickly lose their power in my memory banks. The paragraph was powerful and I couldn’t believe I wrote what I did. It made me wonder if I am ready to face the trauma I have endured over my lifetime, just one piece of it anyways. It is something that I have not discussed in great detail, not even with my therapist. But there is a song that keeps reminding me of what I went through and so it is on my mind a little more these days.

I have a beef with my doctor’s office. I saw my PCP’s Nurse Practitioner (NP) for a blood pressure check. My blood pressure is still in prehypertensive range. Not good. So instead of playing with the new blood pressure med I am on, she decides to add another medication. WTF. She was almost a half hour late so I couldn’t argue as I had to meet with my psychiatrist, and even my psych was like why am I being put on a third medication for the same condition?? I emailed my doc’s office to sort this out. I am not going to take it because it also acts as a diuretic, something I don’t need to be on. I already have issues with my bladder leaking and me being on something that is supposed to make the kidneys work better just isn’t going to fly with me. I also said that in the email, about the leaking piece, not about it not flying with me. I have enough problems and don’t really want to start wearing pads or diapers. So far I have been lucky to avoid them, but I think on days that I am going to be out more than a few hours, I might have to consider wearing them. I would use pads but they just don’t fit in boxers. I really feel bad for men who have to use tighty whities for pads. Least that is what I think they would have to wear. But I hate them as much as some men do.

I was talking to a friend today about a CES issue. She didn’t reassure me and said that I should talk to my neurologist about it. I haven’t seen her in over a year. And this issue I rather not be apart of my medical record. So now I am conflicted on what to do. I don’t even know if going to my neuro will help me with the issue. Course the easy thing is to stop doing what I am doing to cause the issue and problem solved! But I don’t know if I am having more nerve damage or not by ignoring the issue. What worries me is that I have a disc that is touching the nerve root of my issue. It isn’t compressing the nerve root so no one thinks I should have surgery. Although I am not advocating for more surgery as I most likely will need a fusion, I think that might be why I am having my issue. Either that or my nerves have suddenly have become awakened and now I just got to deal with them. Either way, it doesn’t look promising to me and it is an especially embarrassing topic for me. If I do see my neuro, at least I won’t have to mail her my book. I could just hand it to her!

The thing about my neuro is that she is great and all but her office staff sucks like yesterday’s garbage. Making an appointment is always a hassle, getting through to the office is always a hassle and then if I don’t have the copay, they cancel my appointment. Last time, they told me the wrong day of my appointment and I got charged for it. I have not paid it because they screwed up, not me. If they didn’t change the original appointment to begin with, none of this would have happened.
It has been a month now that I have been on an antidepressant. Since that time, my suicidality has decreased dramatically. I might not be euphoric, but I am doing okay. I don’t have mood swings like I used to. My sleep is still wonky but it’s better than it has been. The only sucky thing is that no matter what time I go to bed, I am always up before six. And on days like today where I had to be all over the hospital between my two appointments, it sucks. Even though I worked there for fourteen years, I goofed and made a wrong turn, thinking it would take me to the building I needed to go. NOPE. No access from the 2nd floor. It sucked because I then had to walk back to where I came from to go outside to get to the building I needed to be in. Lot of walking today. And my ankle is thanking me, oh so kindly. NOT.

Meeting with my Pdoc

Meeting with my Pdoc

I found out that my doc wanted to really know what had happened last week. I had emailed her to let her know that I had a dissociative episode and the next thing I know she wants to meet with me. I initially had an appointment with her on Friday but she moved it up to today. I was surprised that my email generated such concern, but then it is not usual for me to have these dissociative episodes. I told her everything that I had told my therapist this past week about it. She kept on calling the new person Hyde, and I had to correct her that it wasn’t Hyde, but another person. I gave a description of what went on, before I fell asleep that night. I still remember in detail about what went on because I was in somewhat control. It was just scary to me because the person inside me was so angry.

She, like my therapist, had no explanation for me. She knows that I am not DID but I do dissociate. The thing was, as I told her, the alter was familiar. I know I have felt him before but this was before I knew about dissociation and the like. I also told her that I was under heavy narcotics and she thinks that instead of me hallucinating, I dissociated. But if that were the case, this would happen more often as I do take these meds frequently. I have to, to keep my pain levels from driving me to suicide. She knows I need my pain medication. I still think that low blood sugar contributed more than just taking my meds.

Before we concluded, she asked me if I wanted to do the mock interview for her 1st year medical students. I said sure and she specifically wants me to talk about Cauda Equina Syndrome (CES). That is not a problem. I have talked about it before and I can certainly talk about it again. My brace should be sufficient cause to raise an eyebrow or two. The only thing that sucks is that I have to be interviewed by the same older woman as last year. She intimidated me and kept my answers short. I couldn’t elaborate because I felt like she lost interest in what I was saying a few sentences into the answers to her question. It was like I should only be saying yes or no to her questions, which is not possible when you are trying to teach medical students about something as complex as CES.

As we were talking about Hyde, she asked me if I read the book. I told her I didn’t and so she recommend that I read it. I got a free download of it on Kindle. I will read it after I make some progress with my Civil War book. I have so many books that I am in the middle of that I hate to start a new one. She considered me calling the new “he” Jekyll. I wouldn’t mind that.

She asked me what I wanted to be called. I said GC. She asked why I didn’t go for Alex, I said it didn’t fit for me and I tried Mike for a year. GC just seems like a good name to choose and she agreed.

ramble 628

I had therapy today. I have to say that this new development has my therapist’s curiosity piqued. We tried talking about it today but there was nothing new. Things have settled down some and I think I am back to being “me” again. She didn’t have a chance to read the letter I wrote her last night. I just told her the contents and thankfully, I didn’t have to read it to her.

Though it is still early for the poll to close, the majority of people that voted (9) wants me to continue this blog. So I will write every day, even if I don’t feel like. But there maybe some days that I am unable to write. Tomorrow is one of those days. I am hoping that the stress of the day won’t stir things up. I have my father’s appointment in the morning. I hope the doc is on time or close to it, as last time we were there almost all morning. Granted my father was late getting there so that didn’t help matters. If we manage to get out before 12 I will go to my second home (Starbucks) and also will be bringing my laptop so I can blog, possibly, or write in my journal. I have slightly given up on the short story collection book that I have been working on. I found out they don’t do well. I still haven’t heard from the agent. It has been a little more than a week now. I am half expecting an email saying “sorry not interested” or something to that effect. I have 3.5 weeks left to know of an interest.

Funny thing is, I don’t think I have told my therapist this bit of information, LOL. Since we have been dealing with the DID stuff, I really have time to tell her or mention it. I guess if something happens by chance and I do get an agent, then I will let her know.

I have to take a shower today. Thing is I don’t want to because my ankle is acting up. I took some pain meds so if it calms down enough and I have a window of no pain, I will try and take advantage and shower. That is how my life has become. Usually taking it in the morning is better than during the day or evening. But sometimes if I take a morning shower, it drains me and I won’t be able to do anything the rest of the day. And tomorrow I need all my spoons with me so no shower. It has to be tonight at the latest.

I was singing to one of the Luke Bryan songs on my MP3. I was just mouthing the words because I know my mother wouldn’t be able to hear me anyways. She now thinks I am “happy”. She also bitched that I don’t help her around the house. Well, I got a bad ankle so I can’t do much. She said she was “lazy” and doesn’t know why. I can tell her why but she wouldn’t like it. She is overweight and depressed. And for someone that has COPD, that isn’t good. But does she do anything about it? NOOOOO. She also is in chronic pain with her knees and back. Does she take something for it? Nope. Not even so much as an aspirin. Fucking kills me that she is so stubborn. There are medications out there to help her and she just doesn’t want to be on them. I can understand. I was there where she was. But I wouldn’t be able to function, at all, if I didn’t take the pills I take, including my psych meds. Sure, I have problems paying for my meds, everyone does, but she also has diabetes and her insulin is ridiculously expensive. It pisses me off that her test strips are free but her insulin costs an arm and a leg. She needs her insulin more than she needs the test strips!

Today is National World Suicide Prevention Day. One of my groups, the depression and chronic illness one, a woman was saying all she thought about was suicide 100%. I gave her the suicide number to call as well as the text number in case she felt more comfortable with that. I then find out through one of the admins that we lost two group members through suicide the past two weeks. You can lead a horse to water but you can’t force them to drink.

It is weird that a month ago, I was wallowing in the depths of suicidal depression and it wasn’t until I started back on an antidepressant that I started feeling better. I still was suicidal during the first few weeks, and especially after Robin Williams died. I remember writing to my writing partner, saying it was my turn now. I was in the hospital so there was no way I could try. And after I left, I found I didn’t want to try. I still had the ideas in my head, but the motive behind them were not as strong as they were the first couple of weeks in the hospital. So even though I didn’t get the support I wanted, the hospital did do something.

Games, mindwise and otherwise

Games, mindwise and otherwise

So, I joined a group for my Facebook game, Pioneer Trail, because some of the neighbors are no longer player out of my 125 people. I got new neighbors that play actively. But I still have not received my stuff that I need. I am behind in my missions because I was in the hospital. Still not up to speed with the current missions. And today I got really pissed off because I found out you needed to complete a mission inside a mission to get the stuff you need. I stopped playing and just collected rewards off other people. It was easier to do this than send out the stuff I needed in return.

I then had therapy in the afternoon. I would have preferred lunch with my aunt. My therapist read the blog I posted that had another “alter” and boy, did we talk about this for some time. She wanted me to read the paragraph to her and I wanted nothing more to do with the letter. I told her the handwriting didn’t change, but, it sort of did. I wrote a journal entry prior to writing the letter and the handwriting was different than that of the journal. The letter’s handwriting was more sloppy than that of the journal. AND the last thing I wrote was “good night” in Italian. I remember writing most of the letter except the last paragraph. That last paragraph has my mind going in directions I didn’t think were possible. My therapist thinks that it was a part of myself that is angry with her, and she is okay with it. But my “core self” is not okay with it. I hate losing control like I did. And then the fact I slept soundly afterwards is a little bizarre, to me anyways. My therapist thinks it was a way to access the different parts of me through my writing. I just think it is one big game. And at the end of it, my alter is going to succeed in killing me. I thought, up until now, I just had one, Mr. Hyde. Now that I have this unnamed alter inside and it is a he. There were crazy circumstances that allowed this to happen. One, I was on heavy pain medication. Two, I was exhausted from being up very early in the morning. Three, I had lack of sustenance for most of the day. (I didn’t eat anything after I had my mocha that morning.) So all of this seems to factor in. Today I didn’t eat much, except for dinner. I skipped lunch because I just wasn’t hungry. The 4th factor was that my annoyance level was high and I was angry because of dealing with my father that day that didn’t go the way I wanted it to. I had expected to spend no more than twenty minutes for his blood draw and it was almost an hour. That lead to my further blood sugar withdrawal. It was also hot that day, and I tend to be cranky in the heat. I just cannot tolerate it. Add all these factors in, no wonder I needed an escape of some sort and that alter wanted so badly to be let out. But I mistook it for Hyde. I even said in the letter, here is Hyde. But NONE of the writing was his. It was not a suicidal letter/paragraph. It was just someone screaming at my therapist that he was in charge and that you have to let her go, something to that effect. It also spoke of my transgender issues, stating that my therapist should give up the nonsense of calling me a him. Even as I am writing this, I am getting scared it might come out again. The rule that was drilled into me when I was younger was that what went on in the house, stayed in the house. I wasn’t to let anyone know of what was going on. I acted like the man of the house because I was the oldest, and I took this responsibility seriously. Unfortunately, my sisters were not the “good” ones like I was in school. They had their own agendas. They still do.

What troubles me is that I now have displayed a couple of alters while writing. It scares me that this is an outlet for them because it is possible for them to come out when I least expect it to. I think I have some control but what if I lose that control? I haven’t discussed this with my therapist but I think she can agree that my “core self” is in control the majority of the time. It is only when I “choose” to let loose the alter that it comes out. But then I worry about dissociating. That is a different set of rules. The only time I can clearly recall dissociating was last year when I “lost” a few hours and blogged something without my knowledge of it. I blamed Hyde because it was suicidal in nature. I call Hyde, Hyde because it is the “evil” side of me, the dark side that no one sees. It is a benign side, I know it won’t hurt me but it might if let loose for too long. Being suicidal is just too unpredictable. Words can take action very quickly.
My therapist wants me to “embrace” this other side of me. She is curious about it. I just wonder if we were meeting face to face if this person would come out more. It really is hard to predict. I didn’t know this one existed until last week. It was scary. I rather not have this side come out again. But only if I am writing. If it wants to write, I guess I could let it out and write. Just as long as I go to sleep afterwards.