During my therapy appointment:
We talked about feeling like everything bad that happens to anyone at all is my fault. We talked about how when younger the mother’s happiness was said to depend on my actions alone. It’s not my fault my friend’s mother died Wednesday but somehow I thought it was. Forget that she was 87 years old. My friend’s marriage is in the toilet (different friend) and I thought to myself, my goodness, had she just not befriended me her marriage would still be okay. I thought awhile ago when a friend of mine ended up sick that she should stop talking to me because I’d just depress her and make her sicker. I’m not all powerful I know this, part of me knows this.
Before my therapy appointment I went to sit down in the waiting room. I sat in my normal spot which was two chairs away from a guy. About a minute or so later he got up and left. In my head I heard, he left because you stink.
The longer this house looks the way it does and the more I’m triggered by it the more I revert to the child I use to be.
Before the medical appointment:
There’s lots of anxiety. He’s going to touch my feet and he’s going to move my knees around. This is going to hurt physically and emotionally. I wonder if I’ll stay or if I’ll be so numb I can’t feel his hands on me at all.
Will he think I stink?
At least this time when I go in I have more than my word that the bottoms of my feet are spotted with black. The last time it pretty much healed up but right now the spots are black. They range from the size of a pea to the size of a nickle.
I intend to ask for something different to deal with the fibro and Lupus. This is a new doctor for me. I’ve never seen him before. I think it’s good I’m going in while in the middle of a fibro flair up. It’s usually at the tail end or when it’s over but not this time.
During/after the medical appointment:
During the appointment I was able to stay for the entire thing. His first impression was good. I like him. He suggested I be reassigned a rheumatologist and he suggested I go downstairs for x-rays. I told him I wasn’t mentally prepared for x-rays but I could reschedule. He respected that. In all he twisted my legs around, looked at my foot, assigned me a new rheumatologist, gave me two meds, canceled the old which I stopped taking awhile back and sent me home. When I did my blood work there was a tad wait which made me anxious. I know I looked odd because I decided to pace. There was one patient back there and a bunch of employees. I figured I could sit in the chair and feel like I was going to lose it or I could look a bit silly and pace. I paced. I made it through. I think it went pretty well. Then I came back, went for cheap chicken with D, hung out for a bit at her place and came back.
Tomorrow afternoon is therapy. I figure around 7PM I’ll do my regular freak out anxiety attack. That’s pretty standard before therapy. I’ll rest longer after therapy tomorrow.
I am very sorry that you always feel this way. But this will not be forever as you gain more ability to reality check. I assume you talk about this in therapy?? Paul.
I’m glad you like the new doc. I think I understand the statement you made– “…part of me knows this.” I do that a lot. My mind sees the truth, but I can’t seem to get that same message through to my heart.
That’s a tough one–feeling like everything’s your fault. The bane of a survivor’s existence. I wish this was something one could get over once and for all, but it’s such a slow process.
I’m glad too you like the new doc. That’s one good thing anyhow.