Archive for the ‘Therapy’ Category
Lots(?) of talk about suicide and me offing myself if “it gets too much?” What I recently said?
Fuck off PA. Didn’t you learn enough from the last time? What impact it had on so many people?
Well, I was strongly reminded from a friend overseas about my epilepsy, trying to sort out its nightmare, learning today that my Creatinine levels are now “a bit off.” Creatinine has everything to do with your kidneys. More labs, ultrasounds etc…
I’ll probably be okay. No, I will. No, maybe I won’t. But it’s still pretty ugly just thinking of it along with everything else.
NEVER in my life have I had a problem with Creatinine. Well, duh. I’ve never had problems with anything remotely to do with renal system. I’m now counting how many of my bodily systems are falling apart (or at least being affected.) And sorry to repeat myself folks, losing the Clobazam is why. Sweetie GP and I agreed, and started the list ages ago.
Well, so be it. But me committing suicide is NOT an option.
I made some Tweets earlier before my mobile died while out reading (escape my home while going mad!!!) I basically said such, and I need to make the most of my life–even if it is shortening. I need to get back to seeing all the beauty there is in it; whether I seek it out or it simply appears out of nowhere.
However, I still need to make up my will and directives. No, really. I do. Even if I died in some freak accident. Everyone has to have a will and their directives! Otherwise, your life as you KNEW it will be destroyed just as much as you’ve been destroyed.
Another thing is that we have amazing hospice care here. If I’m doing a slower version of the “Kansas City Shuffle” they’ll make me so comfortable (i.e. drug me up with such high degrees of opiates) I’ll just go to sleep. Peacefully.
And it will be peaceful for everyone else too. My slow dance will give everyone (including me) lots of notice so we can deal with it together.
Now? I just have to remember this and keep it in mind. Right at the forefront.
Sorry. Not exactly a bad pun. Freudian slip? Or just bad choice of wording.
Well, I’m still extremely disgusted about my behaviour from last night. However, it’s in the past. Get up, try and dust yourself off and climb back up on the mule again.
But had I received a certain document in the mail yesterday, rather than today? On top of everything else? There would have been ABSOLUTELY NO QUESTION PERIOD OF GETTING SO DISGUSTINGLY WASTED LAST NIGHT!!!
I knew it. I did. Just hearing a few, vague words from both Non-Arsey Neuro and Sweetie GP. I saw them within the last week or two. What I also saw was the two-and-half-page dictation from my consult with this “Specialist” (oh, he’s special, I won’t argue that!) for my ongoing epilepsy shit.
It’s really quite simple. You’ve all read it here.
1. Patient developed Typical Absence Status Epilepticus of catamenial origin.
2. Patient lost drug used to treat it, subsequently made everything to do with ALL of Patient’s epilepsy worse.
3. Patient has resumed drug but is still having convulsive seizures with a non-convulsive syndrome when she never had convulsive seizures with it from the start.
4. Patient is still gravely ill, cannot perform everyday functions, plus cannot leave her home for days.
What did I know (or was 99.58385% sure) he was going to say? I’m having Psychogenic Seizures. And he DID.
Although, I wasn’t prepared for some surprises! All wrapped up in such pretty paper with shiny ribbons and bows!
He misquoted me! He made me sound like I was a simpering, whimpering idiot! His writing about me even had little tinkle of a bell to hear.
Maybe I’m a little sensitive about all of this. It’s only been going on for years. It’s now at the point where its starting to actually effect and break down other systems of my body. It’s altered my life where I…loss! LOST! I WILL NEVER GET THINGS BACK!!!
I don’t hear any tinkling of bells. I hear him swinging a mallet against a gong, trying to smash it.
So what’s deal with all the tinkling and gonging? Psychogenic Seizures are real. But his tone. And he also mentioned figuring out things quickly, so as not to waste medical resources. I see. Or hear?
GONG! GONG! GONG!
Are you calling me a “malingerer?” Along with everything else you’ve tried to depict me as? Doing so as 3-year-old with broken crayons? Broken because you keep biting and chewing on them?
I understand he wants to do proper testing etc… but I can’t live like this. I won’t live like this. There may be a point when I really won’t live like this. If you catch my drift.
And if you think THAT drift is being a “malingerer?” Well, I actually told my mother straight to her face that I’d off myself. That yes, I would do it if things became so unbearable, I just couldn’t handle it anymore.
You could say that I was “malingering” myself all over my mother, but when I tried to kill myself, ended up on life support in the ICU, she was actually there every step of the way and after. Thus, my mother does not think I am a “malingerer.” She never displayed any emotion to me then.
When I told her about the future? An interesting, also minimal reaction.
She placed her hands flat together and put them to her mouth. She shook her head, ever so slightly. I could see some tears welling up in her eyes but she didn’t cry. I knew the tears were for both of us though. She wouldn’t want me to die, of course. But her tears also acknowledged that if my suffering did become too much, if that was what I had to do, she understood.
Nonetheless, I haven’t reached that point yet. If anything, I feel like committing homicide, not suicide.
Time to have a serious chat with Non-Arsey Neuro. This needs to get straightened out.
If I can type this right. If I can spell things right. Hey! Auto-Correct! If I could only… Stop. That’s not possible. The world is what it is and you cannot “correct” it.
Fuck. Music vs. Silence. I think music better. Silence only reinforces everything–and nothing–at the same time.
What to pick? Okay. ”Spleen And Ideal” by Dead Can Dance. Maybe my favourite except for another. But I like the haunting sounds of this one.
I’m turning it up. LOUD. LOUDER.
Wait. I have to listen to the first track before I continue. Probably the second too. And have a cigarette. Out of one pack when I bought two. The other “disappeared.”
That’s what happens when you’re a “Motherfucking Asshole.”
And after I listen to my music and hopefully write in a lucid manner, NO PITY. If you pity me, I am all the more worthless.
Triggers. They’re “Motherfucking Assholes” too. Even more so when you realize that they shouldn’t be. Something happens, you know the deal, so why should it send you into a downward spiral?
Well, I have no goddamn clue. Not to mention “so much stress” in my life.
Call it what you will, but I’m too stubborn to call it anything. That probably makes me a bigger “Motherfucking Asshole” than I already am.
I’ve been trying to quit drinking for a while now. Somehow, I can’t get past two weeks. It’s almost like a cruel joke. Any relationship I’ve had has never lasted past two and a half years. That’s been the cut off point. Today was 11 days.
I’m a “Motherfucking Asshole” for that issue alone. And more.
I’m sitting on my bed with baby MacBook, fully dressed and my shoes still on. I’ll probably not even bother to alter my clothing as such, to go to sleep.
If I can.
But I have a good drug arsenal. I’ll keep pushing to close my eyes for at least a bit. Even though I don’t want to see tomorrow. Or a lot of tomorrows right now.
They all just seem to be empty.
I just received one of those emails where it tells you to forward it to people and blah, blah, blah… My cousin sent it to me.
Immediately upon receipt of these emails in any form, I lose all bodily senses except my ability to hear. What do I hear? The eloquence and linguistic beauty of Monty Python: “…Spam!Spam!Spam!Spam!…” If you have no idea what I am talking about, Google it.
They always receive an automatic delete, except this one was a quiz. Sometimes I do the quizzes just to see what bullshit they contain and how fucking ridiculous they are. On occasion, at least I’ve been able to extract approximately 0.000000000mL of amusement from them.
Well, the good ol’ Typical Absence Status Epilepticus is REALLY doing in my brain right now. Giving me some nice Dr. Martens curbing but I still have all my teeth and I’m still alive too.
So I decided to do a “Reply All.” I wrote a retarded, reads-like-I’m-drinking-cat-piss-while-on-LSD speech. I thought it was humorous so I thought everyone else would as well!
One brain cell left and gmail.
I’ve finally decided to cut off all ties with anyone even remotely connected to non-bio dad’s side of the family. There are only two exceptions: my cousin who sent the email, and his mother who married into the family–divorced, married again etc.
I’d say they can all go to hell but there must be a more evil and disgusting place (even more evil and disgusting than them.) Some place that we humans do not know of. Yet. I say “yet” because it would become known to humans. As soon as the bastards and bitches ended up there!
One slight problem though. The whole goddamn bunch plus their never ending, tainted, inbred progeny would remain locked up inside FOREVER! Thus, we as humans still wouldn’t know it existed.
Long past “Forgive and Forget!” Now? “NEVER Forgive and NEVER Forget!”
Some people may say lots in disagreement to that. ”Oh, how terrible a thought.” ”That’s not right.” ” What an awful thing to say.”
“They’re only human!”
Thanks for your views on the matter but there’s far too much to say in retort! However, I will certainly say they do a wonderful job pretending they’re human!
gmail. I am SO thankful for it and now even grateful for it! The “Undo Send” Feature!
I hit “Send” and by some miracle(?) I realized I knew one of email addresses on the list. Nobody looked familiar before.
The one I saw was his father’s. Who actually played a part in physically abusing me when I was young. In fact, he was the “Ringleader” in getting a bunch of others to go along with it!
I hit “Undo” and looked anywhere, everywhere in a panic for what I had written! It was sitting as a Draft. gmail simply and automagically treated it as if I REALLY didn’t send it at all.
I’d say that’s one definition for the word “relief.”
A bit more relief? Post about my vaccination for Ebola RIGHT NOW! Before I try and sleep.
I have just realized something. Something that I think is quite important–for me at least.
It has dawned upon me mostly regarding my asinine behaviour on Twitter so many times, but also on my blog. However, I will give myself (and my blog) some leeway. My blog can serve as slightly more of a platform for me to rant about my life.
I hear all of your voices ringing in my ears, “Wait, PA. No! It’s fine to rant or say whatever you want on Twitter!”
In return, I now say, “Wait, everyone. Please hear me out. Let me illustrate how asinine it is talking about things, when you should remain silent!”
A few days ago, it was my birthday. DO NOT SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!
Birthdays are not always so good for me. This year’s was quite brutal and left me in a wee ball of PTSD for most of the day and the entire night. I did not want to speak to ANYONE about it. The simplest of many reasons, is that I did not wish to burst out into more tears than had already been shed.
I could have hopped onto Twitter and mentioned it, how upset I was, but WHY??? I already didn’t want to talk to a single soul! Mentioning it would have been absolutely counterintuitive and counterproductive!
And thus ends my “lesson” if you will.
Sometimes I should be quiet and just keep things to myself. Most definitely if they are extremely personal and incredibly painful. These types of issues, these ones that only I can work through to somehow try and get out of a labyrinth of hell!
Freely and openly talking about them has a strong capacity to make things worse. The best I can hope for is to talk to someone I deeply trust and can understand (a lot of hope in finding that!)
At least I don’t have to hope too hard regarding my extremely understanding Therapist. However, Therapists aren’t on call 24/7 to be there when you’re in crisis.
PA, over and out.
I was going to write this earlier today. SNAOK? Can you figure that one out? Yes, you can. You are all smart.
I want to try and keep things as stable(?) and functional(?) as much as I can around here as possible. The same goes for Twitter, too. That is until I
might completely lose my entire mind and body simultaneously. This is all regarding the post I wrote yesterday.
The nightmare has begun.
I kept inserting that in the post between pieces of information. I am not lying. It is and will be a nightmare. Worse, actually?
Perhaps I’ll get lucky and it will be a brief nightmare. I’ll wake up so scared that I’ve pissed and shit my pyjamas, but it’s alright. I’ve got my Clobazam back. Clothes can always be washed.
However, has the nightmare begun with something else? Mind-Body Connection?
I am presumably within the next Typical Absence Status Epilepticus phase–my body is speaking to me.
This always happens. I feel better when I wake up and get going. But I then deteriorate as the day goes on. The stress of this made something funny happen, I think. Well, curiously, oddly funny.
I was talking to a friend who is going to help me with grocery shopping today (how the hell am I gonna manage…) At first, I was speaking alright. But as I continued, I started to become almost incoherent. At some points I could barely speak at all!
He’s the first person who has EVER been a witness to how quickly things change when I get sick. And that was nothing! That was just me talking! Not even close to everything else that goes on! Moreover, I haven’t even lost the med (yet?) That was just the stress “talking.”
The nightmare has begun.
I subscribe to an online newsletter from an Epilepsy Organization. Thus, it is “forsooth.” Two weeks ago there was a great big “WARNING” like in my title, except in their title, things continued in upper case. I would have been a fool to try and hope with all strength and power that this wouldn’t happen–but I am a fool and I did hope.
The nightmare has begun.
Exactly like a year and a half ago. June 2011. The suppliers could not get my Clobazam into any pharmacies–or at least not enough of it. I need it to treat my Typical Absence Status Epilepticus. The supply chain went dry and I had to quit cold turkey. It damn near killed me and I’m still trying to recover. A year and a half later.
The nightmare has begun.
First Step. Work with Non-Arsey Neuro. We came up with the most pathetic strategy IF this happened all over again.
Second Step. Call my pharmacy to see what’s happening on their end. I did today as I’m due for all of my refills.
The nightmare has begun.
My pharmacy is already screwed by the suppliers. However, for at least the next month (of my new script) they have enough in stock. Or so they said. I only have a month’s supply in my bathroom right now. Last month’s.
The nightmare has begun.
I contacted my old pharmacy who basically held my hand through the hell of losing it before. They don’t see a problem…yet? They are going to try and start ordering as much as they can, as fast as they can, and set it aside for me. However, the supply chain could disappear within days just like it did before. They’re going to keep me constantly aware of everything just like last time. And vice versa.
My current pharmacy is not that loving and caring. Fat chance. If they run out of it and can’t get more? That’s it. They can keep trying but obviously I will probably have run out of it by then.
The nightmare has begun.
I’m so unbelievably scared right now. If I lose this a second time? The results could be devastating. I’m not trying to sound like a Drama Queen. I’m actually being very serious.
The nightmare has begun.
Every other Anticonvulsant other than what I’m on (and what I’ve tried) will make it worse. Except for two. Two that I’ve never tried and who knows? Plus, a very whacked out drug that treats a shitload of other things, but it still could be tried. Along with the shitload, there is an indication for catamenial epilepsy. However, could I actually convince a Neurologist to go that far?
I’ve been crying all day while trying to “problem solve.” VALIUM!!!
Gravol too, as I felt like I’ve been going to puke up (and out) my entire gastro system. Actually, time for more? I’m about to start crying again and barf…
My sleep’s gonna be a mess, but sorry! Take one more Valium than prescribed? Just for today?
So yeah. This place and everywhere else I am, may get exponentially, seriously, more fucked up. Because I will be.
Ah, I’ll add all of my diagnostic Categories as they got exponentially, seriously more fucked up when I lost my Clobazam the first time.
Yes, I’m an arsey, little twat but I’m stubborn until I can get answers! And I got it. I knew it all along since how a “particular” liquor is made and its contents.
No, it was always in the back of my mind. And tonight I pushed it. No, I really did. Arsey, little, stubborn twat. But I do want to figure this out and make sure of what’s going on before I see Sweetie GP. Is that just a pathetic excuse or actually valid?
Right now I feel about as sober as a judge who in way days back forgot to put on those dusty, white wigs. Today? I feel about as sober as a judge who forgot to put their pants on.
But I don’t feel sick!
However, that does not to mean I’m going to start running around like a mad woman chugging back vodka all over the place. Even if it may not look it, I do consider it a matter of my health. Just what is going on here that never happened before?
So I’ll try to get more on the ball with more intelligent posts, all of you Twitter gangs and comments and yeah? When I’m more sober. *laughing quite a lot*