I am trying to track when the crap hit the fan for me
anxiety-wise. I’ve always had it when
the pain got bad, but now it’s an island on to itself. I believe it was two weeks after my surgery,
when I had that incident of not being able to make it to the bathroom in the
middle of the night and having to call 911.
The “crime scene” incident. Also, I had told myself that if the surgery didn't work, I'd end my life. A lot of pressure to put on myself. Yes, I can change my mind....but still. I mean, my eagles will be hatching at the end of the month, can't miss that, right? LOL
I’ve been in the hospital twice since that time (in addition to that one). For a week each time. I do believe it’s fear. The stark reality of what my life is, how it presents itself and how I am not ever going to get any of my old life back. The burden I’m placing on my family, etc. Breathe. Speaking of which, one of the docs at the hospital told me there is an Apple App called Breathe2Relax. I tried it. Nice, but hard for me to maintain.
I’ve been in the hospital twice since that time (in addition to that one). For a week each time. I do believe it’s fear. The stark reality of what my life is, how it presents itself and how I am not ever going to get any of my old life back. The burden I’m placing on my family, etc. Breathe. Speaking of which, one of the docs at the hospital told me there is an Apple App called Breathe2Relax. I tried it. Nice, but hard for me to maintain.
I have often compared it to being a tree, with all of my
“leaves” falling off; losing bits and pieces of myself every few months; not
being able to drive anymore, needing help with my ADL’s, (activities of daily
living) etc. All my “tricks” for keeping sane have slipped
away and it has gone way, way beyond dealing with pain. If I could only hang onto what I know helps
me stay sane. The breathing, music,
oils, acupuncture, etc. But it seems I
can only hang on for a few seconds at a time now. It used to be a few days, then a few hours,
then a few minutes. Now it’s
seconds. And sometimes, not even
that.
Then I think about my dad’s death, and how on the 20th
of March it would have been his 91st birthday. How close we were. How little I saw of him, even with him living
50 minutes from me. Acceptance. So hard to do. Help me G-d, please help me stay focused,
stay strong, stay in the moment, stay grounded and just, well, stay. Three hospital visits, the shortest being the
surgery, was just overwhelming. It WILL
take me time to get my grounding back. Sadly,
people like us with chronic conditions that are not terminal but in which we
bear tremendous, untreatable pain, do NOT qualify for Hospice or assisted
suicide, which is legal in my state but not for me. Something has to change. It cannot be adequately treated or described
and I’m not the only one who tires of it.
My friends and family bear the burden as well.
The increase in the anti-anxiety meds (as opposed to what,
the pro anxiety med?) may be having
the reverse effect. At least that’s what
it feels like. I have a call out to the
psyche guy who was on my team to ask him.
I would take my own advice and
just ask my pharmacist, but he knows me a little bit now. I thought they were going to admit me to
psyche at one point, I was so stressed.
And suddenly, my pain doc thought my pain isn’t neurological WTF?? After treating me for over 12 years that’s
what he decides?? A complete
reversal? And being back on my old pain regiment isn’t
pretty.
I’ve written this before but it bears repeating. Doctors want to heal. And if they exhaust everything in their
playbook without success, out of frustration (perhaps) they simply move on to
someone they can heal. They aren’t
monsters. But they do want a “win” and
seeing me doesn’t give them that. I get
it.
I’m just trying to hang on here. Coping.
Sometimes it works, sometimes, not so much.
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