Archive for April, 2013
An epilepsy first. Never have I experienced any recognizable injuries to my body, other than bonks on my bean.
Let’s start with my elbow. I don’t even remember when the injury happened, but it’s been weeks ago now! More than a month? As they say: if you can’t remember, it’s been a long time. I suppose I could look in my journal and find the last time I ended up on the floor with a tonic-clonic?
Direct impact. I can remember that. It hurt so goddamn much and compared to my other one, completely apparent it had suffered a real blow.
Well, I’ve fallen all over hitting so many hard surfaces when seizing! I just ignored it and figured it would heal on its own. I was still ignoring it when I went to see my GP recently (or it just never occurred to me as so much else was going on.) I never told her.
Skip the hard surfaces (literally.) Picture this. I’ll be lying down on my bed reading, sending someone an email on my mobile or something and…OUCH!!! Direct pressure on a mattress immediately makes my elbow extremely sore! So much, I have to stop entirely what I’m doing, and somehow try and stretch it out to rest it with no pressure on it.
Another picture this. Try to visualize how I can do that? I have to twist my arm around like some kind of spastic contortionist! It also has to remain straight as I have problems with flexion. Don’t bend it! I looked at it last night and I swear there was swelling after pain, pain, pain! There’s also a dark, red ring around the entire bone. I see.
But my foot? Oh, my elbow is nothing compared to my foot! And in tracing back by how bizarre it looked (even though seemingly innocuous at the time) I know what happened. A tonic-clonic in my sleep–which when I awoke, I couldn’t believe how bizarre its havoc looked!
My right foot has a massive bruise on it, nearly covering its entire top! Tell me readers. How on earth could I bruise the entire top of my foot and not remember it? How on earth could I even do it period???
That tonic-clonic. I must have really been going at it like crazy! Every single thing on my bed was all on the other side from where I was sleeping. Guess what else was else was on my bed within “kickable” distance? baby MacBook. Thrashing away at such a hard object might explain some things?
Some things. As I said, no big deal. The bruise hurt but all bruises hurt! A dormant, hidey-in-the-footy-injury? And it (or both) might be pretty serious? I don’t know. What I DO know is that my GP wants to see me tomorrow after hours when the office is closed!
I think that means ASAP. I’m just trying to get a ride with Accessible Transit because it’s such a late booking!!! My GP and Admin. (god I loooooooove them!) are holding the appt. If not tomorrow, then Wednesday.
Because now I can’t walk, you see. PAIN! Way more pain with flexion than my elbow. My ankle, even my toes. I’ve wrapped myself up in a tensor bandage and I’m trying to walk as gingerly as possible. With a sandal. Forget about a sock or shoe! I don’t think I’m at the point of needing two canes. Hopefully I won’t get there!
I have yet to figure out how I will keep my foot warm for going outside to travel. Tape a blanket around my foot and upper leg? That would probably work.
So, what brought out the dormant, hidey-in-the-footy-injury? *looks out window and sighs*
I went out to a concert on Saturday night! I haven’t dressed up in ages and I was thrilled to do it! I even wore heels!!!
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.