Archive for October, 2007
I met a woman during my fifth hospitalization. She was my “roomie,” actually. We stayed friends until she moved away. I still have her number, though.
Nonetheless, once when I pulled one of my more disastrous but with great, shameful flourish, Bipolar screw ups, she came running to my aid (literally and that’s pretty good for someone who is rather agoraphobic.) I sat practically motionless in my apartment until she arrived. Prior to coming over, the only thing she could manage to say over the telephone was: “Try to maintain a sense of humour!”
We did actually laugh about that later. It’s pretty hard to be all jovial and feel like you’re ready to try out your new stand up comedy routine at the next open mic night when you take a look at yourself and based upon what you’ve done (or something that has happened) you realize that you are completely FUBAR.
This came up on my iPod on the way home from work yesterday. I could stream it on MP3 Of The Moment but I’m still in the middle of my 20th Century Composer Series and I’d really like to draw peoples’ attention to it.
Don’t bother with the video. In fact, I didn’t think it was all that great or made a lot of sense. But lyrically, it completely fits the bill of my mother and her call to 911–and my role in it all.
HA! This is “Infra-Red” by Placebo. Not too raucous as far as some of their tunes? I know everyone out there has different tastes but again, it is the essential “craziness” of the song and the lyrics that are so fitting.
The second funny thing is this.
It’s no wonder we are the most productive department in the company. Or well, if not the most productive then at least the happiest. Wow, we turn the air blue at times. No, sometimes beyond blue–the whole bloody spectrum!
I’ve been staring at my screen for a long time now. Health Psych made a comment that she thought, even though I was thinking of, or needing a blogging break, her suspicions were that I would soon come back to be among “friends.”
That made me think. A lot. A lot about blogging. A lot about my state of mind. A lot about what has happened and indeed, the support that everyone has given me.
I do still want to get away from “life posts.” But whatever.
I accomplished a lot this weekend–more than I had hoped. I skipped down to a pub–not cesspool! And don’t worry…not a lot to drink. Just a bit. I thought I needed a break.
A man was playing music. Accoustic guitar, some pedals and an amp. but not overwhelming. He was good. But what really blew me away was he played Queen’s “Bohemian Rhopasody” on his own! Now, correct me if I am wrong but are not all of the members of Queen classically trained? And is that song so incredibly complicated and arranged? For one man to do it perfectly (as he did) solo on just an accoustic guitar…
I had to approach him and say something.
Now, I know virtually nothing about music but I know at least that what he did was pretty amazing. I bought his CD.
Prior to that. I met, yes…a fellow nutbar. How does this always happen? I swear, my nutbar radar is now better than my gaydar.
He was this huge man! I mean, what…270lbs? He utterly dwarfed PA. Talk, talk, talk…no point in really how we got around to it all…it’s the same story, how PA always tells and advocates. He said, “We have a lot in common.”
He had mentioned something briefly about a hospitalization but he didn’t say why. We went outside for a cigarette. I asked him about it, what he meant–about what he had in common. He slowly lifted his sleeve and showed me his cutting scar.
It is very hard for men to admit they cut.
He said to me, “I am so ashamed.” His eyes began to well up with tears. I told him that no, no…I understand! There is no need to be ashamed! I raised my sleeve and showed him my scars. He told me not to show them in public, his eyes starting to fill more. I gave him a big hug.
I reassured him as best I could that there is nothing wrong with what he did or what I did. I also started making the crazy joke I always do about becoming the terrible “amateur surgeon” where I severed only my median nerve and no major arteries or veins. No one in hospital could figure out how I did it.
He wanted my number. Sure…happy to talk if you need. But be forewarned. I am a nutcase who may not always pick up the phone. I may be tired. I may be busy. I may be just preoccupied. But I do pick up my messages.
How do I find these people?
PA just has psychiatric ESP?
God…when he left I was almost in tears for him. I don’t know if I’ll hear from him but at least we got a chance to talk and perhaps he will know that he’s not the only one? Not that I’m giving myself that much credit for such a brief exchange…no, not at all. I just know how hard it was for him to open up.
I’ll never forget those tears welling up in his eyes.
You all(?) know I moved back to my old neighbourhood as I broke up with my partner this spring. Well, if you’re kind of new, now you know. They have two slightly, smallish grocery stores in the area and without a car, I can’t make it to some larger ones further away so I am stuck.
They both used to do deliveries (i.e. you pop in, do your shopping and they take you home.) The one closest to me nuked that service last fall. Bugger. The one a few more blocks away still does it!
Oh, glory be! I am so tired today and I have no food. Winter will be coming and there is no way I can use my stupid little cart to make it up the damn hill where my flat is when winter finally arrives–with no warning–as winter usually does.
Could you imagine? Slipping and sliding in snow and ice with a wee cart, leaving a trail of food behind me–that is if I didn’t leave a trail of my own limbs behind me.
Alright, time to get back on with MP3 Of The Moment too…that’s been neglected for a while.
And I need to get back on with food! My appetite/eating has perished incredibly with all of this complete disastrous…oh words…call the whole thing whatever you wish! I am wondering if I have, in fact, lost the 10lbs. that gastro said I gained due to all of the stress of the last week or so. I hope not. That was kind of good news.
Apologies in advance. This is going to be long. I will try to be concise. And I should or could actually retitle this “Mother are you trying to make me suicidal?”
You decide if this qualifies as “traumatic.”
So, earlier last week, I stopped off at the pub (which henceforth will now be termed “cesspool”) to talk to two of the three decent people I have met there–Escher and the woman who invited me over for Thanksgiving. I had two drinks and in stormed the Police and Paramedics. Or maybe it was just the Police as they dress in similar uniform here. Just like everyone else, I was…WTF?! They approached the owner (or one of them–a husband and wife team) and then came up to me.
“Are you PA?” said in typical, Police authoritative voice. “Yes…?” I was stunned. What did I do? What’s going on? Huh? Again, hence me not knowing if it was Police and/or Paramedics–just a gang of uniforms. I was escorted out for all to see–and as you know, cesspool is small, full of regulars of which I am one. I wanted to die. And speaking of dying…
Apparently, my mother had called 911 and said that I was suicidal. I adamantly said NO! There must be some mistake! They asked me to confirm her name, where she lived. This was not a mistake. I was ordered into the ambulance and here we go…interrogation central. Full psych hx, all meds, full health hx, where did I work, what did I do there, what did I have to eat that day, what day was it (they even tried to trip me up on that one!) They even asked me to roll up my sleeves all the way–looking for track marks, cutting scars? Well, the latter are there but the former, surely not! Oh yes…illicit substance use… am I forgetting anything…probably. Ah, did I need to go to hospital…NO! I AM NOT SUICIDAL! I also explained my mother’s mental hx and that she is undiagnosed. But I could have told them anything and they would have thought it was a line of bull as they have to take every 911 call seriously, right?
I was bawling my eyes out…I was so ashamed, embarrassed, humiliated, confused…
I asked if I needed to speak to the Police next. They said no. They were outside the ambulance listening to every word, anyway. I explained to the Police that I needed to go back in and pay my bill. I had bought some drinks for the others. I also begged them to let me explain to the owner that I didn’t do anything wrong! They wouldn’t let me. One officer watched me like a hawk as I paid up and another spoke to the owner. Through my tears, I told the bartender (all fabulous women at the cesspool) what had happened in hope that it would get relayed to the owner. I was then told by the Police to go home and speak to my mother. They didn’t escort me, just watched me go.
I came home to frantic calls. Lots. Apparently, my mother had received a phone message from some woman/girl saying: “…mom…mom…?” and then a hang up. She thought it was me and freaked. She then called my sister who I believe added to the situation as she (I think) told my mother that she was worried about me too. However, I do not know if this was before or after the 911 call was placed. My sister even called ex-partner who tried to smack some sense into my sister and told her that we were going out on the weekend and I was fine! We had been in contact recently about that and I was perfectly tickety-boo! However, this was again(?) after the 911 call had been placed. I do not know. Probably after.
So at this point after running the emotional gamut hither and yon, I am now at the point of–well, a little ticked off and still very WTF? Now, I know my mother is nuts but come the hell on. And the bitch of it was, my cell phone had died and was at home charging! If I had it on me, I would have picked up one of the bajillion messages from both of them!
I called my mother first to let her know that I wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere. Line busy–I knew she was on the horn with my sister. I call my sister. At least she has call waiting as my mother is a total luddite (not so much her husband) and a mental case that never picks up the phone. But that’s okay–I am a mental case that ignores my phone sometimes too. We all do. My sister answers me and says, let me dump lunatic mother and I’ll call you back. We talk for who knows how long. This is when I find out about the whole bizarre message she received and I’m still reeling and…ugh.
My sister then starts to give me a sort of “guilt trip but I love you” about my drinking. I’m thinking, this really isn’t a good time right now considering what I’ve just been through? Then she tells me that she dumped a whole lot of crap on my mom that she’s never said before and after this “incident” (more like a fucking nightmare for me?!) she thinks mommy is ready to open up and talk. I’m sorry, I’m really not in the mood for a family therapy session right now! My sister asks if I’m going to call our mother. Hell no, I say! My sister can call and say I’m FINE, NOT SUICIDAL and I have no idea when I’m going to speak to her.
So we end our lengthy exchange, I’m trying to relax and then a while later, Mumsy calls. Oh, good grief. I’d better pick up or again, she’s going to think I’ve bloody topped myself. She calls and apologizes. I am very terse, say I am tired and do not wish to talk. She mentioned the anniversary of her mother’s/our grandmother’s death (as did my sister–did my sister put that bug in her ear?) Fair enough. That could push my mother into some kind of delusional/psychotic state of mind. But she hasn’t acted in any kind of flipped out way like this in years.
And this really sucks. I blogged before about having “Vomit Trauma”…also induced by dear Mumsy. When we were kids, it was sheer panic if we ever threw up. She was more concerned about us making a mess anywhere other than our wellbeing or…well, being well. So with her shrieking when my sister and I were tiny sick ones…we learned basically that throwing up is bad. I have to be gravely, physically ill to throw up. Well, unbelievably the stress of all of this made me actually puke. That was a real shocker too.
So I try and go to bed, get some sleep, call and cancel appointments, work for the next day. Idiot landlord doesn’t pick up the phone to get his message when he was coming by for repairs the next day and comes in to find me in bed!
So yes…the next day…Escher comes and brings coffee and tea and we sit outside and talk. Something dawns on me. When I called my mother from hospital in the spring, she told me that a few years ago, I had called her with the exact same message!!!
I told her that indeed, I did not! This was my sixth hospitalization and the first time I had ever called her in psychiatric crisis. I never left that message. Okay…is my mother indeed (or has she become, was she…whatever) completely delusional? I know she was so very much in the past…*sigh*
Another thing I discussed with Escher was should I ever return to cesspool again! We both decided that I should pop by to sort of “redeem myself.” Well, get a load of this one! The owner banned me. The reason why? Not that I was told to my face but Escher and another man (second of the decent three I met) were busy trying to run interference for me over several days after it all went down. I was banned for psych reasons/meds/danger to the cesspool! Oh yeah…wee PA who sits, chats, minds her own business all the time while there. I do not know if he obtained this information from patrons or the Police/Paramedics but if it was the latter, that is a major breach of confidentiality. But no matter, I am never returning to cesspool again! It is not worth anything. Not my time, energy, money, anything on this planet, in the universe. And such discrimination…very charming.
Oh, but I can’t move on yet…
On Monday, I get a “tough love” sort of email from my sister. She tells me that “she knows things are not right in my life right now!” Oh really…and how do you know this? Yes, I told her about the drinking but it was just disclosure. I told her that I was working on it. She actually said she was glad the Police found me! WTF (again!) She was concerned about me cycling (because of the Bipolar) cycling (because of being on stimulants.) Also, the whole drinking issue (she was married to an alcoholic so sure…that’s a sensitive issue but I hardly think you can compare me to her husband who was just awful.)
So I proceeded to set her straight–hopefully. Here’s my entire psych hx (and why I used to be so out of control and why your perception is shaded–that is to say, I was either not medicated or improperly medicated.) I know when I cycle as I have learned to track it well over the years–in fact, here is how my cycling evolved. Here is how it has changed so this is how I know. Meds. Stims and Bipolar is controversial, there have been no studies so there are no hard numbers. Nonetheless, some people can take them; some people can’t. I can. It’s the same with Antidepressants. However, with those, I fall into the “can not take them,” camp.
Then she tells me about “Dual Diagnosis.” Yes, I know what that is. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that in certain parts of Canada that actually means a combination of someone with a Developmental Disability and a Psychiatric Disorder! The proper term is actually “Concurrent Disorders.” Oh, I had given her enough mumbo-jumbo with my psych knowledge, already. And yes, she also told me about the high rates among people with Bipolar and substance abuse and denial. Yes, I am aware of that as well.
I’m tired. I want to put all of this behind me. Though with my family being so hyper about things, I’m not sure how long it will take. I understand the caring attitude but I know, I know. I already feel like shit enough as it is. And I don’t think “tough love” works on adults. We make our own choices and are beyond being “parented” by other adults. We need to somehow find the strength to quit fucking up on our own. When people we care about make us feel more guilty than we already do ourselves, does that just exacerbate the problem?
Anyway, I think that’s it? So what do you all think? Is that enough to warrant a traumatic experience?
I might just leave this up for a while and continue to take a blogging break…we’ll see. Again, I am completely knackered over all of this.
Ah…and although I do appreciate Escher’s help, he has now become quite needy. He has been calling every day and I have not been answering. I finally called last night and said to him to not think I was ignoring him but I really have so much going on as there has been more fallout over this. He said, “Fine. I won’t call your for a month!” Oh, lord. I said to him, it wasn’t like that…I just needed to sort some things out.
Addendum: Please forgive any grammatical/spelling/punctuation/formatting errors. I just wanted to get this damn thing written.
Okay, again…it’s making no sense that I’m responding to comments and not posting so here’s a post.
I’m sitting at work at my desk ready to pass out. Exhausted–and kinda nauseous. What’s that all about?
I’m ready to write the damn post and tell the whole thing but it’s so long.
Crap, after all this you’ll probably be like…whatever. But it was not fun for me.
Hi, kids. I might be away for a bit. I’m not sure–probably. I don’t know. I just wanted to let everyone know as the last time I disappeared, some readers kind of flipped until they found out I went into hospital.
Don’t worry–I’m still here and have no plans of going anywhere. Not to hospital, not to the local crematorium. Maybe some kind of “place” where I can just deal and heal.
Some shit went down and I’m rather buggered at the moment. I don’t mean to be vague or anything but I can’t write about it now. Too exhausted. Still fresh and I’m reeling and trying to just not get stuck in emotional muck.
At least I’m at work but took yesterday off after hell finally showed itself in one form on Tuesday night. It’s fucking ugly.
Should probably blog about it later?
So yes, I just wanted to let you all know and respond to my outstanding comments as it would be rude not to acknowledge the last people that came by.
I’ll be back…
EDIT: Apologies to any readers that have come by to read this post. I was having a discussion with another blogger that necessitated me to check some links here and some have changed–thus requiring some further edits and notes.
Alright, this has been a real bugbear as it’s been sitting as a Draft for what feels like forever. And it may not even be fit to be written on several sheets of bog roll. And I think I need some more tea before I even attempt to look at again to “ADD” some more things?
So to open, what is the source or cause of ADD? Oh dear. What to say? Rather complicated to be sure. It runs the gamut of so many theories. I’ve read a lot of things, some of which seem rather…interesting?
A genetic link, neurochemistry, smoking during pregnancy causing hypoxia resulting in brain injury/trauma, drug use during pregnancy, diet issues due to it/people being poor, children being “addicted” to milk caused by peptides that result in a poor ability to digest whey protein and lower levels of fatty acids in the body. Also, Sleep Apnoea and head injuries in general. I think the one that made me laugh truly was lead exposure during pregnancy! This was on some doctor’s blog. Unfortunately, the link talking about it resulted in a 404 error–no kidding, right? Can you say quack?
Now of course, all of these things have been unconfirmed but in my “esteemed” opinion, I prefer the two former? I suppose as far as genetics go, I think a lot of our head messiness can be passed on from other family members who are also mentally ill. There is also so much cross over between a lot of illnesses/disorders where again, there are strong genetic links that have been possibly shown. Neurochemistry? Well, the ADD meds seem to help a lot of people so a strong possible link there. And I’m a big fan of science so maybe my bias is showing.
Whoops! Better tighten my belt and pull up my pants a little!
Now, meet Dr. Daniel Amen. He’s rather interesting. He performs SPECT scans on your brain for “malfunctions” and claims that you can do several things to heal your brain and take care of it to get better. Lots of additional things besides meds–lots of “healthy” things. He’s also into some brain injury stuff as cause. He has rather a huge following and has been doing the scans since 1999. He’s also rather expensive…
He does have an interesting and fairly decent online self test here. It delves a bit into the types of ADD and areas of the brain where some things happen. He suggests some meds that may assist that he feels work best and also some natural and dietary solutions. The test also explains in some brush strokes about the brain areas and how they may function.
I did this a long time ago and in doing it again, I scored the same if memory serves. Except, for “Temporal Lobe: Not Probable” which is kind of ridiculous as I have a seizure disorder, although not defined as TLE (Temporal Lobe Epilepsy.) However, Topamax, the good ol’ Temporal Lobe drug, did a lot for my seizures but not quite enough. That tells me that something was probably going on there.
But whatever. I probably inadvertently scored myself lower as I’m on meds for some of those questions? Or Amen’s got it all wrong on his questionnaire. However, one thing that he did make clear in his results that is basically correct, is that girls who tend to have ADD Inattentive Type (me) and a lot of others as well, get missed in the diagnostic process. We’re just not so freaky hyper and more day dreamy and out of it. Nonetheless, we’re just as screwed up. Thanks Danny boy, for recognizing our little spaced out clan–much appreciated as half of the time we’re not listening anyway.
EDIT: I must stress something about Amen’s test and all tests in general. Due to changing the dead link, I “tested” the test. Also, you need to take a “Subtype Test” to get any “results.” It came out incorrectly as per my actual dx. So people, please do not take these things as gospel. Also, I have removed another, second self test, as it now leads to a bunch of videos! Good lord!
Now, please meet Dr. Harriet Hall who wrote this on quackwatch.org. regarding Amen. Okay, now we’re getting into an ADD smackdown! She doesn’t like him at all.
I have a book called “Scattered Minds A New Look At The Origins And Healing Of Attention Deficit Disorder” by Gabor Mate M.D. Dr. Mate actually has ADD–as do his three children. Now, I love it when physicians admit that they have an illness and are open about it.
He has some interesting takes on causal factors. He isn’t opposed to any sort of genetic link but he is clear that may only be part of the picture. And he highlights that there is a difference between genetic predisposition and predetermination. This is certainly quite the obvious but perhaps sometimes people may think otherwise or forget due to the connection that they may seem to have and see with such frequency around them. He has some suggestions on environmental causes.
On the origin of ADD, he posits the idea of “attunement” with the primary caregiver (usually the mother) and infant. What this means (roughly) is that the infant bonds early and emotionally with the mother. Her actions, speech etc… reflect her internal mood states unconsciously. Anything that rocks the boat with Mommy may to mess up the kid’s head. And further it is the bonding and sharing of the emotional space that is most important with attunement.
This was tested with the “double TV experiment” as Mate calls it (apologies, I can’t find any links other than abstracts.) What happened was, the infant was shown a live feed of the mother interacting in a positive and happy way. The infant responded favourably. Within about a minute, it was played back and the infant responded as negatively or unfavourably as a mother with a “flat face,” (i.e. no positive response.) So basically, the infant needed more than happy, visual signals.
Further, the mother can’t fake it either. Due to “emotional sensory radar” that has not developed or been “scrambled” as Mate states, they pick up the false positive signals from the mother. This probably makes sense in a developing brain? Early brain formation and development is extremely plastic when younger. As an infant, with no other communication skills and a brain that is just in its infancy…it would just absorb everything like that on a different level? As adults, our “radar” has evolved and changed–along with our ability to communicate and process that communication. We can miss the cues all the time in our degrees of perception.
With attunement, the infant basically leads the “dance” as it is often called. It’s not like the mother can control the infant’s behaviour and its need for attunement in the symbiotic, emotional connection that it is. The mother needs to respond to the infant in appropriate ways based upon the infant and how it behaves, what it does etc… A stressed, anxious mother may lead the infant to not be able to understand or pick up the cues. Also, if the attunement is broken off with the infant and the mother tries to push, it can lead to too high arousal levels in the infant and that causes problems. Either way, the dance is completely thrown off.
Now, I believe the key to the issue of the arousal levels being thrown off as he mentions is that the infant brain doesn’t get a chance to “cool off” before the attunement “dance” repeats the cycle. The kid’s brain is still a bit hairy and not ready to “readjust” to start leading the dance again.
Theoretically, without proper attunement, people grow up to feel alone, isolated and that no one understands them. Attunement is the beginning of a larger issue called Attachment. That is the feeling to belong and a need for closeness to other people. These are some of the issues that people with ADD face–so says Mate. And the “Attunement/Attachment Theory” really isn’t new. Mate is simply applying it to ADD.
Okay, I sure feel alone, isolated and that no one understands me! Well, maybe they do but I don’t understand them? Or…erm… Nevermind. Well, I know I don’t understand myself. Okay, on with more Mate.
I found an interview with Mate online that further fleshes things out past the infant stage and how to “heal” ADD. This is good because the book is 323 pages long as I sure as hell couldn’t read it to write this post. You’d be waiting for ages! Crap, I’m just moving on from Dr. Seuss and getting back to reading newspaper articles. That I haven’t been able to do for months.
So as things move on, Mate still stresses that environment is still key. It’s not like after the attunement process with the infant has been completed (or rather screwed up) with your ADD kid that’s it, over, finito, bye bye. You need to create that proper environment in order to treat ADD symptoms. He states that emotional self-regulating circuits can still develop in childhood and even in adulthood. So, provide the right conditions, create development, ADD gets better–or it can.
Okay, maybe I’ve smplified things but that’s more or less it. But fear not. He isn’t anti-med.
And of course, the book is filled with all sorts of other things about ADD. Discussions with patients, lots of observations and insight to the disorder. Mate certainly understands it. And I certainly will not disagree that children with ADD need nurturing, supportive and (further to the attunement theory) a non-stressful environment to grow up in.
I’ve found it a rather good and interesting read. And I do also find his theory about attunement, attachment, infant development and ADD interesting as well. Boy, I sure know that my mother was a mess when I was an infant. There may have been a possibility of Postpartum Depression going on there? And her own mental illness(es) for sure. But I don’t know…I was just a baby. Who may have never received proper attunement from her!
But before I close, an interesting line about how he closed “Scattered Minds…”
If we can actively love, there will be no attention deficit and no disorder.
Well. At the end of the chapter there is mention about extending oneself to others or oneself in order to nurture on the basis of M. Scott Peck’s writing in “The Road Less Travelled.” On this basis, it is a difficult thing to do and particularly difficult for ADD adults. But I do find the above a rather interesting statement and it sort of makes me chuckle a bit.
Indeed, Dr. Mate…if there were more love in the world it would be a better place…
Okay, I got the badge into my sidebar. I don’t think the image was corrupt after all–my brain was. I didn’t perform the upload properly.
I originally posted about receiving this here. But if you don’t click on the link to get the explanation as to just exactly why I chose the “Awesome Guy Blogger” badge, I’ve explained the reasons below it in my sidebar.
And actually, I called it the wrong name in the above post anyway *laughing*…I was so riled or tired, I guess because as explained…WP ate my previous attempts and it took me a while to write the thing and it was late at night.
Oh…and I made reference to something called “penis post” in there as well. That was this.
So here it is in the post too in all it’s glory again for poor fishwithoutbicycle who had to wait so long! Sorry, fish!
Well, I heard from my sister. This is a relief. But it’s kind of bad. I did indeed have her pegged. She called me “smarty pants” as she admitted that, yes, she was isolating herself. She really does have a lot of unbelievable crap pouring down on her head. I had actually suspected what most of it was about. But there were parts that I really didn’t think were that bad. And she also said that in some circumstances there was “more…” However, I basically got the gist of it all.
I feel terrible. She is a wounded bird. Well, aren’t so many of us? Or certainly at times? But right now, she’s definitely not soaring the sky. I don’t know what to do but at least we are still talking.
I could go into it all but it’s long and really just so ultimately shitty… She needs a bloody break in her life. Hell, we all do but let’s start with her.
I went to see my gastro yesterday. Okay, this is funny. Let’s hear it again for PA having rather rare, positive relationships with her physicians. It’s almost beginning to border on the bizarre after this one! You already know how Merlin #1 and Merlin #2 love me. This is now some crazy “doctor love” for PA! And as I’ve said before, gastro and I are probably pretty close in age…yes, I’d guess him in his 30s.
So being “geekus medicus extremis,” when I saw my gastro, he was wearing a scrub top. He called me in to his office and I had this huge, goofy grin on my face.
I said to him, “So were you doing procedures this morning or is this just hospital chic day?”
He nodded and replied, “Yeah, I was doing stuff earlier.”
I responded as I sat down, “You know, you have no idea how badly I want a pair of scrubs. You know how much of a med geek I am.” I am rather smirking at this point.
“Oh! Not a problem!” he said perkily, “I’ve got tons at home. I’ll bring you some in for your next appointment! Just call a few weeks ahead to remind me.”
Now am I an insane spaz or what? You don’t have to answer that. I think we all know the answer.
But really, this is true for PA. I want scrubs. And they have to be real, authentic, from a hospital, stamped/labelled and all of that. I could just go to a supply/uniform shop and buy some but no. I want the real deal. I don’t know if any med bloggers are still reading me after my blog kind of went off the rails into cuckoo, psycho land this spring/summer but I know I have one M.D. who still read me regularly. You know who you are *laughing* But if any med bloggers are out there still listening and want to send PA a pressie of some scrubs–email her!
Aside: Doesn’t this blog derail into cuckoo, psycho land often anyway?
*PA ponders for a moment*
But back to the scrubs. He’s kind of tiny so the top will be fine but he’s taller (but not super tall.) Nonetheless, the pants will be way too long. Whatever…scrubs!!!
Good grief. Now that’s a stunt, eh? Getting my gastro’s scrubs! I wonder if they were the ones he wore when he performed my endoscopy and colonoscopy? If so, should I get him to autograph them? *rolls eyes* Just kidding…
I suppose I have to figure out what kind of asinine behaviour to exhibit with my GP next? What can I ask from her or get her to do for me…give me or I don’t know–just be a freak and still get total respect and love? I think she’s back from maternity leave by now. We actually do get along well.
Anyway, gastro-man and I talked about all things tummy and Internal Medicine and PA chimed in with her knowledge too about the Vagus Nerve and how that’s a real monster on two fronts: A) it’s freakin’ major to not only your internal organs and your gut–it controls so much else and B) it can be a real “monster” if something goes wrong with it. Because of neurological function and the gut, we got into some Antidepressant usage and his experiences with Elavil/Amitriptyline to assist. We both had laughs about his patients sort of freaking out about him thinking that they were “crazy” for being prescribed an Antidepressant for gut problems.
As far as me, well, I told him I was feeling much better, appetite returned, no real major issues that I had before other than the stomach pain during ovulation and premenstrual times of my cycle. That is simply hormonal and unfortunately probably not too much I can do about it? I also told him that I dropped his bran and Milk of Magnesia “solution” as soon as I started feeling better as it was positively horrid. He didn’t have any qualms with that.
The jury’s still kind of out on what happened, though–exactly why did he bring up the whole neurological issue, right? I mean, we had never discussed that before as a possible problem. I did bring it up in the early days as a theory of the cause of IBS. But did the bran/M of M fix me up or was my neurology somehow out of whack and then somehow got kicked back “into whack?” I don’t know. And I suppose with anything else there may be a possibility of “relapse” but I am not thinking of that.
But what I was sort of thinking about and actually laughing about was the Concerta. I did kind of start to feel better around the time I was prescribed it. Could you imagine if I was having some sort of paradoxical effect/reaction to Concerta’s gastrointestinal side effects?! These being: Loss of appetite and weight loss/anorexia. Oh, that would be just way too funny–and odd. I should look at the literature as I’ve never even heard of such a thing but people can have paradoxical reactions to meds–yes, they can.
I also asked him about the iron supplements. I can not stand them. I do not wish to take them anymore. No, no, no! He was amenable to that as well. Fine, fine PA…whatever you would like. You may have my scrubs, you may go off your icky iron supplements but one thing my dear, you must have your Ferretin (Iron) levels checked to see if you are still anaemic. Oh and CBC too–Complete Blood Count–yes. Sure, darling gastro. Anything to get off these awful things.
However, if I am still anaemic I asked him about the IV Iron Supplementation that he proposed the last time we met. How does that work? Well, this is how it works. I would go into hospital once a week for four weeks and be placed on an IV drip for about an hour and a half. After that, my levels would be checked every so often (every few months or so?) and if they dropped or I became anaemic again, back on the drip? Okay…I’m all for that!
Trust me…much better than the pills! I’m quite sure that I am not anaemic anymore. Well, I certainly shouldn’t be if the damn things are doing their job. But who knows? I don’t care. And actually, I only have a few left in the pack and I’m not buying any more so screw it for my bloodwork. I stopped taking them today! I mean, if my bloods are fine and I go off them and end up anaemic anyway, then it won’t matter! So let’s just drop them and see if my Fe falls into the basement. Then we’ll know for sure? And…well, I’ve got to get to a lab somewhere and should do it relatively soon so it shouldn’t drop that quickly? But my follow up isn’t with him for six months. Whatever. But that means I have to wait six months for my scrubs!
I know…I’m more concerned about getting my scrubs than being anaemic…
Oh, and Merlin #2’s scale was spot on when I last went to see him. When I weighed in yesterday (with clothes on so give or take a bit…) I was 100lbs./7 stone. Before I was 90lbs./6.5 stone? I’m not exactly sure how that happened but well…it’s not bad. I’m still bloody tiny and when I look at my naked body I can’t seem to tell much of a difference but any weight gain is an improvement.
Oh, and I’m finally getting my hair cut this weekend! God, it looks so hideous! And it’s still blowing around and getting in my mouth and I simply am going bonkers! So, it certainly needs a few inches hacked off. For anyone who cares, I wear it in sort of a bob between chin and shoulder length. No bangs though! They don’t suit me at all! At least I don’t think so! Leaving it longer is better because then you can hide behind it *wink*
And I think I need to tag this under humour because of my inanity with my gastro.