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.

why do I keep fighting?

Why do I keep fighting?

I woke up from my nap. My pain level was the same. My mood was shifted a little bit but still dreary. And I just keep asking myself, why do I keep fighting the urge to end things when it’s so damn prominent. I again wanted to take a bottle of pills today. I thought about calling my psychiatrist. I thought of texting a hotline. I texted my therapist with no hope of her returning my text. I don’t know why I bother. She says she wants to be kept in the loop. What good is that if I feel suicidal and she doesn’t get back to me? Not a good system, if you ask me.

I didn’t do anything except listen to music. I read for a little while but then I couldn’t go back to it. My attention span for reading just wasn’t there. I haven’t finished a book in a while. I think February was the last time I did so.

I could have called my psychiatrist. I was afraid she would try and convince me to go to the hospital and I didn’t want to say no to her as I was feeling so crappy. I also didn’t want to argue with her. Most of the arguing was already in my head. I hate feeling this way. Now it’s late at night and I still feel like taking some pills. Why should I fight it? I can still call my psych but I really don’t want to bother her. Thing is, I would have to page her and my paging success haven’t been to successful in the past. There used to be a number that I had that you would get a person to page her but I have lost the number. I just have a paging system number that I don’t even know if it still works. I know if it goes through, she will call me back when she can.

What am I fighting for exactly? Why don’t I just give in to what I feel is right? Ending my life is what I want. I am tired of being in pain, emotionally, mentally, and physically. I am so tired of dealing with pain and today was not the worst day but when you get hit with psychache, nothing else matters except killing yourself.

I want to give in so bad. I don’t know why I haven’t. I guess I am afraid that I won’t succeed, that I will be a failure that I know I am. If I had a beam or a gun, things would be different. You just can’t trust pills.

just a ramble

About an hour ago, my foot exploded in pain after I took an NSAID and some Neurontin. Now the pain is a little bit more manageable. I keep thinking over today’s events with the AAS conference tweets. I like that my Twitter buddies went to difference speaking engagements so you got different things. I especially liked the Marsha Linehan talk. She is a great person, though I didn’t like her at first. That was many years ago and at a time when DBT was the “thing” to do for people like me.

Now I would love to see CAMS to be the “thing” to do. But I don’t think I will ever find or convince my therapist to take a workshop on CAMS. She thinks her way is the right way and there is no more “learning” to be done because I do it. I am the suicidologist, not her. I think her attitude reflects most therapists that have become set in their ways. She is collaborative, don’t get me wrong and I am grateful for that but when it comes to my suicidality, it increases her anxiety and so I get shafted. I have to “limit” what I tell her so she doesn’t freak out. She has become better since the letter that I sent her last September. She is more willing to do what needs to be done in therapy to help me rather than hinder me. I give her credit for that. I know it wasn’t easy to give up my sessions this week. Whereas before, she wouldn’t think twice about canceling. It would be a no and that would be all. I would have had therapy whether I liked it or not.

I think next month I need to spend more money on my laptop because the cooling fan is going. I saw how it was to be replaced and it’s too complicated for me. I am going to ship it back to Dell and use my old laptop. I should make sure that it works before I send this off. I changed the battery on it because it needed a new one. That was the easy part. I am just grateful I have a backup laptop that I can use for what I need. I know internet explorer is useless on it. There is a problem with the hard drive that makes it impossible to update windows. I never got a new hard drive because it’s a pain re-installing everything.

I emailed my psychiatrist and told her I wasn’t going to the hospital because there was zero data supporting that it would be helpful or useful for me. All it would do is babysit me and I don’t need to be babysat. The last time I was in the hospital, my psych thought it would be “helpful” for the team to know that my father was sick and that I was his “caretaker”. I went in there because I couldn’t handle being transgender, or being in chronic pain all the time. I went there for my needs not my father’s. I was pissed that she brought it up. And it’s not like they were doing psychotherapy with me, though I am sure they were billing my insurance company for it. It’s just stupid. I rather go to the city hospital and stay there for a few days. It will be worse as I won’t have any electronics to play with, including the use of my cell phone.

There are a lot of things that I need to talk to my therapist about and I hope that we don’t talk fifty minutes of my father’s ailments. I don’t mind talking to my psych about my father because we just briefly talk about him and then we talk about my symptoms and how I am doing with it. We don’t spend the whole time talking about my father’s problem. My therapist is the crazy one. We always talk about the same things with my father. It’s never different because his ailment doesn’t change. He is a sick man and will probably die within a year if he continues to deteriorate. I have come to terms with that. My therapist just doesn’t see it and wants to talk about it like it’s so very important, thus avoiding my other side, the depression and subsequent suicidality.

I feel like taking a handful of Neurontin tonight. I just want oblivion. Maybe I will take a high enough dose and see what happens. My luck, nothing will happen.