Not My Greatest Day

Song: N/A

Mood: 5

Nightmares: 3?

I started this post last night but fell asleep at my keyboard before I finished it. So just in case the timings seem weird, it’s meant for last night.

I didn’t sleep well last night and had more nightmares again. Still the same ones it’s been for the last few years.

I’m still pretty sore today so I didn’t go for my walk again. My exercises didn’t go all that well, either.

This morning was my appointment with Dr H. I called for a cab ahead of time and asked them to be here at 11:15. No problem. I started to get ready, but before I was done, the phone rang and it was the taxi company telling me my ride had arrived. Sure enough, when I looked out the window, there he was – early. In my haste to get out of the house, I forgot any of my anxiety stuff – the fidget ring, bean bag, and I didn’t have a chance to take any PRNs.

The car ride was difficult. I had to fight to keep from asking the driver if he’d noticed that I’d locked the front door and whether I’d closed the garage door. Very very difficult.

I got to the clinic and was taken to a room after only about five minutes from when I checked in. I realized at that point that I’d forgotten any of my fidgety stuff, but fortunately I had a handkerchief (for the flop sweat) so I started playing with that.

Dr H arrived a few minutes later. I gave her the discharge form from the hospital that I got last week and we talked about what had happened a bit. I was very anxious and could feel that I was flailing my arms around and not talking very well but she was very patient with me. She told me that what J and I had done was exactly the right thing. Apparently, surgery is the very best thing to do in situations like mine, because if they’re not taken care of properly, people can get very sick very quickly. I also asked her about that blotchiness on my face. She took a look and prescribed something that I’m supposed to try for a couple of weeks. If it doesn’t work, I should try another thing, and when I go to see her in late September, she’ll do a biopsy.

As we finished up, she asked me if I was okay to go home or if I would like to sit in a quiet room for a little while to calm down. I thanked her for the offer but said I just wanted to get home. I went outside, called another cab, and paced back and forth until it arrived. The ride home was a little embarrassing – the driver was very pleasant and was trying to make some light conversation but all I could do was nod or say, “yeah” once in a while.

Finally, to my relief, I got home. None of the doors were unlocked, nothing had been left on, and nothing had leaked. Everything was fine. I took some PRNs, went downstairs, put on some loud music, and screwed my eyes shut, trying to concentrate on the individual instruments and push all the other stuff out of my head.

J got home a couple of hours later to take me to my appointment with Dr W. The drive out started not too badly, but it didn’t take time for me to start winding myself up again. By the time we got to the hospital, I told J I needed to use the washroom. I went in, washed my hands, and then closed my eyes and leaned against the wall. I don’t understand why I’m still so anxious when I go out there – I’ve spent months living on the ward and I’ve been going back to see Dr W for around two years now – but I could feel the sweat running down my back as I stood there with my eyes closed. I grabbed some paper towel and dampened it with cold water and patted my forehead and then went back out to the waiting room.

While J and I were in the waiting room, three of the nurses from the ward wandered by; all three of them said hello, remembered my name, and recognized me even though I don’t have my moustache or beard right now. That was nice of them and made me feel a little better.

My appointment with Dr W was pretty rough. We talked about my hospital adventures last week (embarrassing and painful), how I am doing (not great), am I hearing any voices (no), and have I thought of hurting myself (yes, last Thursday at the hospital when I wasn’t getting my medications and was up all night with nightmares and panic attacks, but I was hooked up to too many machines that would alert the nurses if I did anything). Dr W was concerned that I’m not making much progress on my ERP targets but I told him that I’ve been mainly working on ACT. He wants me to try to manage the worry I have for things I have no control over and I told him that I’m doing my best.

Again, I’m not doing this stuff on purpose. I do not enjoy chasing down every noise, smell, and suggestion of motion out the side of my eye. I do not enjoy worrying about whether the water hose to the dishwasher is leaking right now. It’s not (I just looked), but in the time that it took for me to get back to my chair and sit down, it could have started leaking. It probably didn’t, but it could have. Now, multiply that by every thing in the house that COULD go wrong on its own. Every hose, motor, pipe, pump, electronics, batteries… everything. It is so bloody frustrating.

Dr W also wanted to make sure that I had a list of activities to do while J is away on her business trip next week and a list of people I could call if I feel like I should reach out. I told him that I was in good shape in that respect.

This evening, J and I took it pretty easy. She’d had a long day at work and neither of us were feeling that great or productive. It was good to be home with her.

Thursday afternoon I have an appointment with Dr P. I expect we are going to cover much of the same material that I went over with Dr W. I’m not looking forward to it, but Dr P just got back from an ACT seminar where he learned a bunch of new stuff in the field. It should be interesting.

Stay safe.

Comments are closed.

Post Navigation