Monday, October 22, 2018

Don't use words on me you can't possibly understand!

My procedures took place last Tuesday.

And here I sit. Up to ten working days to get results. By my calculations, I could hear something between Thursday and next week Tuesday. Maybe. That's a long fucking time to wait.

My doctor took biopsies of my small intestine, stomach and colon. To the naked eye, he said he couldn't see anything wrong. That's not the information I was in search of. Hopefully the biopsies tell another story so I can get whatever this is on the road to recovery. Otherwise, more tests are up and coming.

None of this is helping my mental illness. I spent the weekend between the bathroom, in the recliner with the heating pad, trying to eat because I really am hungry but afraid of the aftermath and crying my eyes out because I realized a year of depression has passed.

I stick it out with my high dose of Lithium and anxiety medication. I made the decision months back that my body needs a fucking break of the side effects and medications that don't work. I'm also tired of throwing money away. The drugs I wouldn't mind trying are ridiculously priced, even with decent insurance.

For the second year in a row, Halloween decorations sit in the garage. A large pumpkin is perched on the dining room table. My favorite holiday, HUMBUG! I feel like I'm letting my youngest down because I just can't do it. I can't get the stuff and move things around to make it festive. At Christmas, the only thing that makes it out of the box anymore is the tree.

I feel like a jerk. Like a loser. Like things are never going to change.

Physical illness mixed with mental illness is a recipe for disaster.

I don't recommend it. 

P.S. I don't share a lot on how I'm feeling with too many people. I have too many people, I think, who count on me to be their rock. So that's what I do. I don't want any of the..Things will get better...Tomorrow is a new day...You're not a loser...Lean on hope...NONE of this. It does no good. Unless you've been here, you won't understand that. I'm not just trying to be an asshole. This, to me, is realistic. If it's not to you, it's because you haven't been here. Kindly understand where I'm coming from.

Wednesday, October 10, 2018

In This Moment

My original appointment to see the Gastrointestinal doctor was October 17th. A week ago, the scheduler called me and got me in on the next day, October 4th. A few days prior, I couldn't take it anymore and went to the ER for a CT Scan. Nothing was found.

In six days I'll undergo an Endoscopy and a Colonoscopy at the same time. I'm not nervous at all. I need these procedures to produce answers. I'll take an illness or two just so I can pinpoint what has been happening and begin what it takes to heal.

Every day I ugly cry. I don't really think I'm crying for myself. Deep down, I know that whatever is wrong with me is really bad. I've accepted that. I used up all the hope I had inside of me on my mental illness and getting better from those symptoms. It didn't work. Not enough time has gone by to refill the hopes and dreams. So I'm crying for my children. My grandchild. My husband. My few friends that have stuck by me longer than I can say.

So a scope down the throat and a scope up the booty should provide answers. Biopsies if necessary.

The pain really needs to stop. The worry about what will happen if I eat this or that, which wouldn't be much since I get full so fast. Most of all, the exhaustion has to go. I could sleep all day every day. Sometimes I don't know how I get things done or get from here to there or get any work completed.

If you get an organ removed due to symptoms that tell you it should come out, you shouldn't feel those same symptoms over a year later after the organ is removed. That's a sign.

I'm going to wander over to the window now. It's snowing here in Denver and it's just about the only thing that will make me smile in this moment.