Day one at home
Today has been rough. I did too much and caused myself to get a headache that I still have that the neurosurgeon is worried about. I have to go back on steroids for a week to see if that helps calm things down. I am trying to sleep but it isn’t coming. I have too much on my mind.
My numbers for my blog stats have been terrible. All day I have just had three views so I am hoping this post will draw some readers out. I know I have been sporadic in my writing but I am recovering from surgery right now. Meds are making comprehension difficult and concentration has been worse. Because of the steroids, I have some appetite. Unfortunately, meals have been difficult to sit through as it hurts my head to be upright. I rather be laying down.
I had an appointment with my therapist today but we didn’t get much accomplished as the connection was terrible. I was kind of out of it so that didn’t help matters. She put me down for another time next week so I think I should be better by then, or at least less druggy. Today was a real test as I had a lot of phone calls. I got accepted for the Ride, a disability transportation service but I can’t seem to navigate it on my phone or laptop so will have to call tomorrow to set something up.
I want to try and shower tomorrow. I don’t have a health care worker coming in yet and for some reason I am on MRSA precautions. I don’t know when that happened. But the nurse was worried about it and sent off a special stethoscope for the clinicians to use. Nothing fancy about it just deemed “MRSA”. I have no use for it as I use my blood pressure cuff for my readings and my own thermometer. I have no fever so that is good. I think I would be feeling sicker if I was. I have been feeling hot and cold all day, running the fan, shutting it off, turning it back on. I also have been taking my long shirt sleeve shirt off and on all day. I don’t know why I seem to run hot then cold then back hot again. Hope I am not getting sick. I worry with those that are outside the home may bring it in, like my nieces and nephew and sisters. I am at a high risk because I am just off of surgery and am on steroids. I have been trying to keep fluids up but it has been a challenge. I don’t like standing right now as it hurts. I have been able to void on my own though. Last night I had to put myself on a timer so I would go. It worked but disrupted my sleep and then the bowels did their thing on me. Luckily, I didn’t lose control or I would have been crushed. I did have to change my underwear though. I didn’t want to track the stuff to my wound. I don’t have a bandage on so I am careful about what I touch around the scar.
The one question that I am shocked I keep getting asked about is suicide and suicidal thinking. The nurse today very concerning asked about it and wanted me to let her know if I have those thoughts. I am not having them because I got other stuff on my mind. I am depressed because I feel like I should be somehow a long better than what I am but I am only a week post op. I am having a hard time keeping track of pain medication management because I was used to a nurse bringing me the meds. Now I got to sort it all out. I spoke to my pcp about it and he is okay with the increase in the interim while I am recovering. I’ll get a refill next week when I am due for one. I am glad I can talk to him about my pain med needs. Some docs don’t want to hear it after surgery. I had a hard time finding a doc to listen when I had back pain like this. In the end, my pcp put me on pain meds and there it stayed. My pain meds have always been managed by my pcp and I am glad because they get to see what you are like more so than a specialist.
here is a link to an important article on suicide
Suicide: Say this, not that
what to say to someone that is suicidal. Please learn it and don’t be a dick.
Agony of Despair
I had therapy today. I gave her a letter I wrote the other night when I was in a suicidal frame of mind. She said that my treatment is basically in limbo as I am not sure what the recovery is for after my surgery. There may be a way for me to have a telehealth connection but my insurance doesn’t cover it and she has to fight to get it covered. So I maybe without therapy for a few weeks or more depending the outcome of the surgery. She will be able to see me while I am inpatient but I am not anticipating a long hospital stay. Most I will be in for is a week as they like to kick you out soon as you are stitched up. My recovery is going to be at least through the weekend but again, depends on a lot of factors. What I am thinking may not be accurate but I do know I will be there at least through Sunday, if not Monday. I will need home care and/or rehab services as there is no one to care for me at home so my stay may be longer than Monday.
While we were talking she was joking and then I was joking and then she jumped on me to make sure she was saying was understood by me and I just lost it after that. I broke down and I am still reeling from it. Talk about something stupid setting you off. I didn’t allow many tears to fall but I felt like an elephant had jumped on me after the tears stopped. My chest felt so damn heavy. I told her the psychopharm wanted me to think about ECT and she said no one should be bringing up anything to me right now with the surgery that I am facing. She was looking out for my well being and I appreciated that. She is a really good therapist and I am glad to have her in this point in time. I think I will be able to get some work done but it is going to take some time.
Today is the anniversary of when I first attempted suicide. No one knew and I did a bad job of it but I entered the world of self-harm in the process. The goal was to dig into my arm to sever a vein but I never realized how many layers there are to get to that level. The following night was as traumatic as that night and the following day I entered therapy. It took a lot to get me to open up because my father had instilled in me the “what goes on in the house, stays in the house.” I was too suicidal in the week after the attempt. I just started cutting and it was how I expressed my emotions as I didn’t have words for them. I still don’t. That is what went on today. I felt a jumble of shit and just broke down when I was being hammered by questions. My therapist didn’t allow me to jump ship and if I did she lead me back to where I was. I had an anxiety attack that kicked everything off. We were talking about surgery and the next thing I know I am crying. On the way home I wanted to drink so bad. I was thinking about gin and how drunk I would get but those feelings have passed.
I was telling my therapist about how my blog writing has dwindled and writing in general when she picked up the letter I wrote and said no sir. I guess I have to have some kind of person in mind while writing in order to get the words out because once they start flowing, I can go on. She did say that I started to get into something while I wrote but then I stopped midsentence. I had no idea what she was talking about. I kind of just went with it because I do that so often now that I don’t even notice. I just know I feel some strong emotion and I move onto something else. A friend who was reading my blog the other night commented on it. I had to laugh. He said at least I was aware of it. I am aware but after the fact not during. It is really hard for me to sit. Hell even while having severe anxiety in session I was talking about the Sox and anything else to get over the feelings. I know I compartmentalize a lot. It happens with trauma. I told her to expect a lot of talking about the Sox all season. She wasn’t phased only with me coming to see her to talk about the sox. HA. I talked a lot about baseball in my previous therapies and I will be damned not to talk about it in this one as well.
Thing that is bothering me is that she wants me to write out stuff, either blog, journal, letter writing, etc. but I don’t think she gets how damn difficult it is for me. There have been moments where I cannot write what I am feeling because I am too jumbled or I just cannot find my words. It is like they are there but I can’t “see” them. What is worse is that the Invega is taking away my voices so the inner conversations I always have are lost. Granted if I am feeling high emotions, they are there because they always are. They always have been. I don’t want to become psychotic when I am feeling high emotions because that will be bad and potentially dangerous to me. The voices tend to tell me to end my life when medication isn’t holding them back so if I am in a high state of despair, I may act on what they say.
I am glad the drinking urge has passed and I don’t feel like drinking. I have a quarter of a bottle left and I seriously thought I would finish it off. It wouldn’t take much for me to become drunk or buzzed from alcohol because I don’t drink normally. I might have a glass of wine occasionally but that is all I will have. I don’t usually drink to get drunk but tonight I wanted to. Glad there was a line at Walgreens to distract me from these thoughts/feelings.
Walking in mud II
I felt like every step I took today was in mud. My legs felt so heavy. It felt like it took me ages to get to where I was going as I was going so damn slow. I couldn’t help it. Then I get to therapy and the therapist asked if I was me as I was a totally different person than I was on Tuesday. Granted I didn’t have 9 mg of Invega running through my veins either. I feel so slow. I don’t know how much is the depression and how much is the meds. We talked about me being sick and she said not to play the victim. I have no idea how I am playing victim if I am struggling with coming to terms that I am sick, that this isn’t going to go away on its own. The fact of the matter is that I probably should be in the hospital. But I got three weeks to go before my surgery and I just can’t do it. The therapist said that after I recover from surgery, I will be placed in a group and I will go. HA. I had to laugh as she was being so stern. I know she is younger than I am. She has to be. I know I shouldn’t make a big deal out of it but I could be a fricken doctor too had mental illness not wrecked my life. Twenty-five years ago I started college after spending two and a half months in the hospital on a psych ward. I was supposed to start college in the fall but I suffered a major depressive episode that landed me in and out of the hospital until I finally overdosed that landed me in the hospital for two and a half months. I never got over it and just when I was getting my shit together, working toward a bachelor’s degree, I got slammed with a psychotic episode that took nearly 7 months to control and then there was no going back off my antipsychotics. I fell into another depression and I don’t think I have ever recovered because CRPS entered my life and then I was permanently disabled four years later. My psychiatrist said I would never work again and a part of me knew then, it was true. As much as I am now denying that I have severe mental illness, I know that I do have it. I am downplaying it because I just cannot cope with the realization that I am sick. I have been sick for quite some time but have always been able to work through it. This time, it has me in the grip of my throat and I think it will kill me. If something doesn’t change over the course of the next few months, and I don’t mean getting crippled by surgery (please let this not happen surgery gods that be), I know I will end up trying to take my life again.