We don’t have to talk, I just want to hear your voice

We don’t have to talk, I just want to hear your voice

So I am going to try and crank this out as the Sox are playing and Luke Combs, Lady A, and Matt Snell continue to break my heart. This maybe long as there is a lot of stuff to talk about since I haven’t written in a week. So grab some coffee or something.

I’ve been battling a UTI (urinary tract infection) for the past week and a half. My pcp did not consult with me on antibiotics so the first course of treatment did not work. I finished on Sunday and Monday I had the foul smelly, cloudy urine again. I had called the pcp office but it was late in the day and no one got back to me. Tuesday I was able to get a hold of the idiot RN and told him my symptoms. I had an appointment with the new therapist and hoped he would get back to me as I was passing blood at this point. My results came back early afternoon but I got no call from my pcp or provider letter. So Wed I am hurting really bad. I am passing blood clots, blood, and mucus and it was extremely painful doing so. Bladder pain was terrible and I kept losing control of my urine as the urges to go were not to be messed with. At one point I waited a bit too long and thankfully had a diaper on because otherwise I would have had a puddle on my rug as I couldn’t even open the door before losing it. I was getting pissed (no pun intended). I called the office and the RN said that I did have infection (ya think) and my doc called in a prescription. Again my doc DID NOT CALL ME! I asked which one and I said I have no effect with that one I need to be on this one. Wed all I had to eat was some Ramen noodles. I didn’t want to eat or drink anything. Thursday I slept all day. I only ate when my protein bars came in. I had wanted to be up before my night meds but I wasn’t so the med alarm woke me from sleep. My mother too had called which annoyed me more than the phone alarm. I had flank pain but it was minor. I had 2 doses of antibiotics. I emailed my psych to ask her if I should go to the ER as I thought I was dehydrated. We fiddled with how much I was to drink but in the end my stomach only took 3 oz (90 mL). I then felt nauseous and I went to bed. My psych wanted me to get in touch with her today. I said ok.

5 am this morning, I woke up with worse flank pain and felt really lousy. It still hurt to pee but I wasn’t passing clots or mucus. I emailed my psych about this and went back to sleep after taking some Tylenol. I just figured it was nothing but maybe soreness from not eating and drinking anything. When I woke up to my morning meds, my psych had emailed back that I should contact my pcp as flank pain is not something you get with a UTI. Shit. I knew it wasn’t but I really didn’t want to go to the ER. I wanted to bake cookies. So I emailed her I would go to the ER as I wasn’t contacting my PCP again to talk with his idiot RN. I have no idea why good doctors have idiot staff. When I got to the hospital, I called his office just to let him know I was in the ED. Within fifteen minutes my PCP calls me and I tell him what was going on. He said that was the right thing and sent me on my way. ED ran tests but in the end it was to drink more (I laughed at this) and keep the course of antibiotics. OK. On the way home, I sent a message to PCP asking him to do some more urine tests to make sure the damn infection I have is fucking gone. I then sent one to my psych. She responded by asking what did they say. I told her and then asked if she wanted me to call her over the weekend. Our last weekend. I haven’t heard back, yet.

On Monday 17 June, I met with my psych. She told me some very bad, horrible news that has left me feeling numb but really angry at the institution we worked at. Her department wanted her to step down from whatever position and she said no. So they terminated her, June 30th is her last day. My last appointment with her is June 24, this coming Monday. I still have not processed it but I tried on Wed to write something. I knew it had been more than a few days since writing a blog. For the first time in almost 7 years, I lost my words. I couldn’t even begin to write about this and still am tearing up about it. I have been thinking about her and all we have went through. Wed night I wrote her something then couldn’t sleep. I didn’t go to bed till I don’t even remember the hour. Must have been late/early as I slept almost all of yesterday. There is no way in hell I could write what the last 26 years have been like in a paragraph or even in one long blog. I wrote two pages until my brain and emotions were fried. Then I kept fine tuning it. Adding stuff, fixing, punctuating, grammar, you name it. After the third go round I said fuck it and sent it to her with a PS saying that this might not be grammatically correct or something to that effect. In the email, I told her to open it at her leisure, maybe with a few tissues and I would bring a box on Monday.

She said I would be assigned another psychiatrist in the adult department, which so far I haven’t. She wants to have a Lamictal level drawn the next time I see my PCP so if he responds to the urine tests, I will ask him then. I have been preoccupied with her leaving and the UTI that I forgot. I tried not to break down though I did shed some tears. She asked if I could come in next week and I didn’t know what to say. She just shook her head yes and I said ok. The end of June is coming and it would be our last time together for a while. She said she is trying to find some other academic home and then when she gets sets up she plans on calling me. She said her email and phone number wouldn’t change (I am not 100% that is true. I know with me, I was cut off the day they let me go. They might have different stuff for MDs.) I thought of making her my marinara sauce, which I am still planning on doing on Sunday. I wanted to back cookies for her. I am hoping to do so tomorrow if I don’t have an all nightery with pain or emotions. Last night, I realized not only did I not have a copy of my second book on ANY of the 8 thumb drives I had, I also no longer have roots holding my tree up. It was a story I wrote that I don’t think I ever published on my blog. It was about my therapist and psychiatrist keeping me here. One of the roots said goodbye for reasons I still don’t know what they were. Now the other root is leaving me and I have nothing holding me up.

Tuesday was a bigger nightmare as I was supposed to meet with a new therapist. I was so fucking nervous because I knew if she didn’t want to take me on or I didn’t like her off the bat, I would have NO mental health services at all, none! So I went to the appointment and she asked me a shit ton of questions. I carefully worded and didn’t elaborate on anything that would lead to my suicidality. Least not until she said I was discharged from the psych unit and I immediately wanted to die. She asked if I was suicidal. I said no and then asked what would I end it when I leave here. I said no. Throughout, she kept on saying my psychiatrist terminated me and I must feel abandoned. When I asked where do we go from here, she asked what did I want to do, like she had no interest in seeing me ever again. That felt so welcoming. Mind you, when she went into the waiting room she called for someone with my birthname. So we didn’t exactly start off the right foot. I told her I had a three session rule and then I would decide if I would stay on or not. Though, if at three sessions I didn’t, there was no where else for me to go. She asked who I would call should I get suicidal and I said my psych and then it dawned on me, she wasn’t going to be there anymore and fuck, I damn near lost it.

I wrote to my psych and said the therapist said I feel abandoned and I said I didn’t. My psych responded saying I may feel that way. I wrote back I would if this was good bye and it is more of a see you later, or is it? She never responded back. Later that day, Luke Combs came out with the song, Even though I am leaving, and I just about lost it. It was perfect to all the stuff I feel about my psych. This cannot be goodbye.

If I don’t write next week, please know it is most likely due to emotional overload and cannot find the words to the hurt or whatever I feel. I see the therapist Thursday.

thoughts of the midnight demon

Thoughts of the midnight demon

“I haven’t slept all night as I have been in a lot of pain between my back (low pressure changes) and my ankle/foot. I am sharing with you something I have been sort of keeping from you because of fear of hosp.

Been in a quandary about what you said and what I talked about with a social worker friend. she thinks I should be evaluated. Parts of me agree but the one question, I cannot answer is the “why now…what has changed?” Frankly I don’t know. I wanted to end my life March 29th. I made the decision sometime in January. Since that time I held off for a week because the weather interfered with my plan. I have every thing worked out except the small details of where to leave my benefits pension information, banks, passwords to different accts, etc.

A few nights of despair with pain and psychache caused my plan to be more imminent. I couldn’t stand to reach my means to end my life so when I was “well”, I moved it closer. When I emailed you last night, I was so overwhelmed because I had planned, again, to end things this weekend. I’ve always had a plan and the means to carry it out. I don’t know why I haven’t acted. I know I don’t want to do it in my room. I rather be at some deserted place, which I have picked out but weather has been a factor in me getting there.

I still do not think hospital is the answer. It will not help except to babysit me and maybe give me more time to think things through or maybe work through the hard stuff and see where it leads me, but it is doubtful as the hospital just thinks this is an outpt issue (aka longer term) and once my level of safety is down, I will be released even if my “risk” factors are high.

Maybe Dr. Goldstein’s SW will be able to help me in the short term. I don’t know. I am scared to tell anyone but those I trust deeply (you). When I asked you Friday and you told me why you wanted me to live it gave me some hope to live again. Least for a day and a half. I do have plans for a book. But if I don’t get past these suicidal disturbances (I can send you a paper on it if you like), I don’t see the point in any of it. I am also ambivalent about asking for help because I have been rejected so many times or just have no received the care to reduce my internal struggle. I know this will not be an overnight thing. I know it is not a medication thing either (though I wish it were).

I honestly don’t know what to do. part of me wants to roll the dice and see if I die. Another part wants to attempt so maybe the hospital will take me more “seriously”. Walking in voluntarily hasn’t seemed to help much. I rather avoid the hospital all together and just do something else but not sure what that is.

these are my thoughts. I won’t tell you what my means are or where I am planning on ending things. Just know they are there and within reach. I have no method of planning a date. Any Friday will do, just so I can fuck with the suicide statistics.”

This is what I sent my psychiatrist. I felt she had to know because I sent her an email last night and she called me within ten minutes asking if she should send an ambulance to my house. She is worried about me, to say the least. I am so ambivalent about doing the acting part of taking my life. I don’t have to do it. That part is clear. But I want to do it so the thoughts will leave me, so that I can say I did it and then well, if I succeed then fine. If I don’t, I will be indeed a failure and I will accept the consequences. I have not chosen a very lethal means. I don’t have a gun and I don’t plan on hanging myself. But what I have chosen might end up killing me if I hit the right spot. The more I think about it the more I want to do it. It is like a nagging thing inside my head. I feel like I have two things on each side of my shoulders like in cartoons, one is like a good part and the other a bad part. Each one seems to talk louder than the other and I still survive the hellish nights of wanting to die so damn bad.

I know my means needs to go to someone else, for now. Not indefinitely. I know I should talk with someone who isn’t afraid of suicide and will hear me out when I am suicidal without resorting to hospitalization when I bring it up. I also will not abide by “suicide contracts” basically I am safe until next session without a clear plan on what to do in the meantime. If a safety plan or crisis response plan is not implemented and I am held accountable to actually do it (fuck I am wicked bad at my suggestions and following through because I know best type of thing. I am also bad at giving advice and not listening to it when it involves me). I would like a therapist that is willing to work with me on specific skills to decrease my suicidality like DBT or CBT, brief. But that involves that they actually know how to treat someone who is chronically suicidal or at least, knows chronic suicidal ideations. Otherwise, what good is either of them. CAMS is good (my opinion, the gold standard) but there are very few, if at all, therapists in the Boston area that have this type of training, least to my knowledge. There was a therapist in Cambridge that had the type of training best suited to me but unfortunately the bitch never had the courtesy of calling me back.

I have been up all night. I will most likely sleep all day. I am tempted to send this to my pcp’s social worker and see what she has to say. I will send her the link, maybe. I am very selective on who I let in on my suicidal world.

For those reading this, I am safe. I am not going to kill myself this week. I currently don’t have a specific plan in mind at the moment. So do me a favor and not call the police on me because you read this and said “omg suicidal, call the cops”.

Am I a hopeless case?

Am I a hopeless case?

My med alarm woke me up. I reluctantly sat up to take them. I wanted to go back to sleep but my bladder said it had to go. It was really quiet in my house so I thought my mother was out. I went downstairs and peeked in the kitchen. My mother was there and the TV was on mute, hence why it was quiet. I did my business and brushed my teeth. I went upstairs wanting to go back to sleep but I needed to pick up my package at the FedEx office. I was debating on how to get there. Then I got a phone call that wrecked my day.

The phone call was the social service dept at the hospital where all my doctors are (except my neurologist who is at a different hospital). I could tell by her voice she wasn’t going to give me pleasant news. She was speaking slowly which was annoying. I let her say what she needed to. The whomever decided I needed “long term care” and they do not provide it. So she gave me some other places I could try. I got upset. One of the places she “recommended I try” was Psychology Today’s website and I told her the therapists there do what you are doing to me once they hear my history. She was taken aback by that. It is true, that is why I am stuck in therapist limbo because I have a history of suicide attempts AND could possibly be in crisis, which makes therapists uncomfortable. Rather than dealing with it, they just don’t see you or pass you on to someone else. So I got a few contacts, one was a social worker referral line. I am not going to call them. I sent a message to my PCP’s social worker to let her know I was upset they denied me services.

After the phone call, I just cried. I was so frustrated and angry and when I get like that, I just cry. I felt pretty hopeless. I feel like I am just this hopeless case no one wants to take on. I still have the other therapist I put on hold but I really don’t want to go back to see him when he really hasn’t helped me in the year I saw him. All I got from him was venting my frustrations on my medical care and other stresses, like my mother being an asshole. I wrote to my psychiatrist to let her know. She told me the hospital does not provide therapy (then why are they number 1 in psychiatry???) and we will talk about this more tomorrow. I didn’t respond to the email. I had started to cry again.

I feel utterly defeated, worse than I have ever felt about not having a therapist since 2016. I keep replaying the scenario in my mind when I asked my therapist if we should end, not expecting a yes but got a yes. I was shocked. Then I couldn’t get a hold of her as it was the holidays and I just thought when I spoke to her next things would be eased out and we go back the way it was before. Nope, she was going to terminate. In a month. With no appointments in between that January appointment and the February one. Since then I had to call like seven therapist before I landed the one I saw until my physical mobility was shot. I think I stopped seeing him in January. I wasn’t getting much from him anyways. More than a few times, he pissed me off so much I would cancel the next appointment. He never asked why, just did it and never talked about it. All my previous therapists always asked why I canceled and got the third degree when I did so. In a lot of ways he is different than all of the ones I saw before. But he was okay with me being suicidal. I could talk about it with him like I couldn’t with anyone else. But that is all it was, talking. No plans or structure or anything else to cope with how horrible I felt. So even though I had someone I could talk to, I often felt alone with what I talked about because there was a lack of care with the heaviness I spoke about. No idea if I am making sense. The last straw for me with him was when he told me to Google relaxation techniques after I told him my PTSD was keeping me from sleeping. He just said it was “anxiety” keeping me up. So now I will have Google as my therapist. No one else wants the job.

just my daily blog post

Just my daily blog post

I woke up and didn’t want to get up. But I wanted coffee and a shower. I got up and my feet were killing me. I walked to where I have my clothes and that was extremely difficult so I decided not to take a shower. There would be no way I could stand and I can’t seem to sit and shower. I no longer have the hand held showerhead in there as my mother hated it. And whatever my mother doesn’t like goes away. Pisses me off because I take more showers than she does.

I had some coffee and unfortunately, we chatted. It was all that she felt that if I saw the “right” doctor, I wouldn’t be in so much pain. I told her even if I got an ankle replacement (not even remotely possible), it wouldn’t help. I tried to explain that my nerves were messed up and my brain kept thinking I was in pain when I wasn’t. It fell on deaf ears. No matter what I said, I couldn’t change her mind. I flipped on her and told her to go to the hospital she wanted me to go to. She said she did and the doctor was a jerk. Oh, really? I said I could find you another doctor, he isn’t the only knee surgeon in the place. She didn’t answer me. That shut her up.

I went upstairs once I finished my coffee to get dressed as I had to do an errand for her and get my prescription at the pharmacy. She wanted me to buy some things and I got them for her. I came home and my feet wanted to murder me. I had wrestled the lace up brace on and it was going to stay on. I hate this thing. I won’t be wearing it tomorrow when I see the neuro because if I have to take it off, I won’t be able to put it back on and my ankle will hate me. I am not looking forward to it because it is a long way to go to see my neuro. It takes about an hour and a half from where I live by public transportation. Then there is a walk from the station stop. If I didn’t like this neuro, I would see someone else.

After this, I came back to my room to rest. I wasn’t in a huge amount of pain but I was sure as hell sleepy. I kept nodding off so decided to take a nap. Without meaning to, I slept the entire afternoon. I woke up around 1830 not knowing what day it is. I thought I missed my appointment. But it was still Wednesday. I got up to have something to eat. I really didn’t know what I wanted. My mother made hot dogs and potato pancakes. I had one and then made some tea. I got a couple packages of crackers with peanut butter and had that for supper. I didn’t want to make anything. All I had was pizza or hot dogs. I really need to go to the grocery store to get some food but I am waiting until I get my monthly food stamp money to be deposited on my card. I will go then, if my feet don’t kill me.

I wrote to my therapist last night telling him that I can no longer see him temporarily and could we see each other monthly or so until I literally can be back on my feet. I haven’t had a response yet. I emailed my psych to let her know what has been happening and she wrote that we will go slowly on the new mood stabilizer. I didn’t expect anything else. I told her I thought I was hypomanic the other day with my burst of energy, which is further fucking up my sleep. Today I left a message with my TG doc asking about the T increase as I haven’t heard from her still. I haven’t heard back from her or her secretary either. I feel like so many balls are in the air and no one is catching them. I hope I hear back from my therapist. I feel bad about not seeing him but as I explain to him, it takes a lot of energy which leaves me really hurting after our meetings. I just hope he doesn’t want to end. I will be screwed. I told my psych about this and she didn’t say anything about it. She never does when it comes to therapy. She has told me that whatever I decide she is okay with.

With all this I am feeling really down and feeling useless because I just can’t walk like I used to. I really hope PT helps with my right foot as I need to get better from it. I hate being in so much pain and not knowing what to do to help relieve it. Last night I was putting diclofenac gel on and my heel was really swollen. The gel is the only thing that helps bring the pain down some but not totally. A little is better than nothing. I am really surprised my pain meds doesn’t touch the pain in my heel at all. It just makes me think that something is going on either with the heel or the tendons around it. The golf ball was really inflamed last night as well, and I think that swelling is what irritates my heel because it is right where the plantar fascia is. I’ve been using ice but it numbs it and that is all I get from it. It doesn’t help to bring it down. I really hope my PT has some ideas to help me get back to walking again. I don’t know what I am going to do otherwise and I am NOT getting a cortisol shot! I don’t believe them and think they weaken the tendons more than reduce the swelling.

the golf ball