When I went to see the doctor today I went with a plan of action. I decided to talk to his nurse, with whom I'm on good terms, and let her know exactly why I was there. I talked to her, let her give him whatever she retained, then I talked to him.
I went in because 1) I was told by a person from his office he wasn't going to be comfortable with writing scripts for me despite the fact that none of them are narcotics. 2) She insisted I had not called in updates when I know very well I did. She was so insistent and forceful that I finally told her, no, I don't know who I talked to when I called and no, I didn't write down the date. I didn't realize I'd have this inquisition. I said, I don't even know your name! She said, I told you when I answered the phone. She repeated it, but that's not the name I was calling her. Ya cow! 3) She then went on to say that my general practitioner wouldn't feel comfortable writing my scripts and that I'd need to go to a pain specialist. 4) I discovered I had a script at the pharmacy for 5 days worth of muscle relaxers. .......I was so mad because it appeared that what she said was true, my GP wasn't comfortable doing what GP's do.
The last thing I want to do is lay in bed struggling with the weather and pain levels. I am grateful that I don't have to. My pdoc (psychiatrist) gave me something to help knock me out for a bit. I've used it 2x in 3 months with last night being one of those nights. I'm about to make it a third.
I slept like a rock last night. After I take it I've got about 20 min to get in bed or I may sleep on the floor in the kitchen or in the living room with my head wedged between the sofa and the table. I could fall asleep on the throne and then land on the floor. It's best if I get everything in order, turned off or on, then put myself under the covers.
I'll be out no less than 6 hours. When my pain level starts to inch to a 9, it's time to knock myself out. My left side is eating at me something terrible and it hurts for the cat to touch me. My tailbone is acting crazy. It's time to go to sleep while this weather system moves in.
For awhile now I've considered wearing a sign on my upper body vest that requests that people please not touch me. I've worn the vest for maybe a year now and I'm comfortable doing so. Some people look at me like I'm a terrorist, others are bold enough to ask why I'm wearing the vest. Some mistake me for a policeman (stares blankly off in the distance). They think it's a bullet proof vest. I've commented, well, ya know, for a little bit there we were getting shot left and right. OMG. But the least of my worries are questions or being locked in the entrance of the bank waiting for the manager to clear me. lol. Oh ma lawd! My concern is what happened yesterday when I went to the store. A man did a back hand smack on my arm, twice, then asked if I was in line. I used the word smack because that's what it was, it wasn't a one, two tap. .......That was the moment when I realized something has to change.
In a comment to a reader I began listing off more reasons why it feels pointless to trust any doctor or treatment.
She said "I’m naked when I try to shed the blanket for more than a few minutes."
I understand that. I feel Naked. I feel Exposed. I feel Defenseless. I throw myself at the mercy of doctors who do not oblige me to the proper degree.
My response to her comment got me to thinking. When I went to a doctor I went stripped, exhausted, desperate. I was willing to do whatever they told me to do. Again and again I ran into abusive doctors or flat out incompetent ones. I took crap off people for one reason only - a means to an end. I needed help. I could not control the pain. I handed myself over because I felt I could not continue living at the rate I was going.
What has occurred to me here is that while feeling defeated I gave much of my power and voice to clowns. Each time they failed in an epic way, so too the will to assert myself. I floundered from promise to treatment doing exactly what I've spent 20 years in therapy learning not to do. Do not give away my voice or power. ...continue reading "I know what’s different. I’m at the helm."
What's wrong with you?
I'm angry. Yup, I guessed that.
I'm wearing it like a blanket that I refuse to remove. What are you wearing under the blanket?
Skill. Love. Motivation. Ok, I wasn't expecting those things. I thought you were going to say exhaustion, vulnerability, etc.
If you ask me, those are the reasons I have chosen to keep the blanket on. Is it worth it?
My goodness, I'm so angry, and this depression feels like a garrote. I want to get up and eat dinner. I'd like a shower. What's stopping you?
I want to run my business and post art. I want to have my cat near instead of pushing her away. What's stopping you?
Listen, Faith, listen. Let's think about the last year, no, we're going back to the last 3 years. In the last 3 years you've had more physical pain than your mother put you through in the 20 years you lived with her. That is not an exaggeration. You have broken teeth from biting down so hard to endure what was happening to your body. During pain attacks your body responded in ways that the body responds when it is writhing. In those situations you've destroyed bedding, vomited on the cat and tore at your clothing as you screamed. You went mad Faith, like anyone else would. Do you understand that?
This may look familiar. I've had it forever. "The Tin Man". He also reminds me of a puppet on strings and the need for freedom. From what?
From the things that wrap around pnd me. I feel tangled. I feel lost, pulled in several different directions, floating above unstable ground. MY HEART IS BROKEN and I can't seem to make it stop hurting.
Go here and get twisted around so you'll feel better and, less pain.
Go here and for this doctor's magic.
I just want to see my therapist again. I want to remember his face. I saw him in person today but he was so blurry. I couldn't see him.
I'm still trying to come to terms with the health scare.
I micromanaged every move for fear it would be my last. I thought about a journal I've lost touch with, a girl who wrote about the "indignity of death." How is she? Where is she? I cleaned my room because no one should have to clean it up. I started to take out the trash but I was tired. Then I thought, if I won't be here tomorrow I should turn off the heat, ya know? I thought about doing my hair then realized it wouldn't matter. I never thought, I need to throw away this or that so no one finds it.
It's 5:05am. I'm back in from walking outside. I took the trash out too. This is bad. I was going into full body spasms again. Big time paranoid, head 100 mph. I took the patch off and took pain meds. I went outside and walked as fast as I could. I am steady when I'm not so medicated. I walked for only 15 min or so. There's a cop that stays at the park.
I can't do this at home unsupervised.
As I walked I could feel my body start to cramp, not seize, but cramp. Then a tiny rain drop hit my nose. Ah, there's a big PART of the problem, the barometric pressure changed. Part of me wishes it would never rain again. But then we'd miss the smell of water on earth. We'd miss how soft it can land on our noses. :-).
I didn't fail. I didn't. I just need more help than I have with ridding my body of the substance that won't even let me walk down the stairs safely.
I was betrayed.
I did exactly as I was told. I was told that if I take opiates exactly as I was told, I would be fine. I'm not fine!
I did not abuse my medication. I did not take more than I was supposed to take. As a matter of fact I was afraid of the medication, because I did not want to be an addict or one with a body dependent on the medication. But here I am 4 years later and I have been hospitalized because of the seizures and the sheer force of my body's refusal to accept that I will not continue to put opiates in it.