Yesterday, I went for my breast reduction consult. Again, assuming my insurance will pay for it, I will be getting the surgery within the next few months. If, and it's a big if... I can quit smoking. So, I downloaded an app that basically makes it a game to see how long you can go without a cigarette. I have about half a pack left, and then I'm done. I can't use any patches or gum because my surgeon wants me to be nicotine-free for three months before I go under the knife. As I've said before, this comes down to how much I hate my breasts vs. how much I love smoking. I love smoking a lot, but I hate my breasts more. I need to get my physical therapy records over to the surgeon ASAP to get the ball rolling with insurance, and I'm hoping for the best. I still haven't heard back from them about TMS for my depression, and it's getting really frustrating, because we've sent the paperwork twice.
This has been a tough week, pain-wise. I think it's the weather, combined with recovering from an Epstein-Barr flare-up. Oh, and I got my period again, and it's only been two weeks since my last one stopped. I guess my body is making up for all the ones it missed from September to February. I've been sleeping a lot, but yesterday, after I went for my consult, I told myself that I was going to stay dressed at least until 5 p.m., which I did, and then some. MY body is so sensitive that it's painful for me to wear a bra, and uncomfortable for me to wear clothes.
I've been sleeping fitfully for the last two nights, experiencing very strange nightmares. I woke up yesterday with a gravelly voice singing, "Hush my darling, don't fear, my darling, the lion FEASTS tonight!" It sounded like it was right in my ear, and it woke me up. Creepy. Then, last night, I dreamt that I fell unconscious, and when I woke up, I had beautiful tattoos all over my body, that moved as if they were living things. Only, they weren't finished, and I had to go to sleep again for them to be done, and everything in the world was trying to prevent me from going back to sleep, including being raped by a stranger who looked like my father one moment and and ex-boyfriend of mine another. I have some ideas as to what the dream means, but I haven't totally unpacked it yet. I guess that's what therapy is for.
Well, this is going to be a short entry, because I have to get my ass moving to my therapy session. I'll write more about the dreams later.
Thursday, April 16, 2015
Thursday, April 9, 2015
Same shit, different day.
I have to start this with "grateful" because I need to re-focus my mind on the positive stuff before I get into the shitty stuff.
I am grateful to have a patient, care-taking husband who doesn't bat an eye when I need help on bad pain days.
I am grateful to have amazing friends like Laurel, who inspire me to do my best and to not get down on myself when I have a bad day.
I am grateful for the roof over my head, the food in my pantry, my four adoring fur-children, wifi and cable, and all the other things I might take for granted if I hadn't been a couch-surfing drifter for most of my 20s.
I am grateful for the opportunity to get the healthcare I need, and the ability to try different methods and different doctors if things don't feel right.
I am grateful for the days I am not feeling too sick to go out, even if I pay for it later.
I am grateful that none of my illnesses are immediately life-threatening, unlike the illnesses suffered by many of my friends and acquaintances, one of whom died of brain cancer recently.
I am grateful for the ability to speak my mind online, and share my journey with others who care, whether they are my friends, or someone who stumble across this blog and find something they can relate to.
I am grateful for thunderstorms, because they make me happy.
And now, I shall commence bitching.
I went to the doctor on Monday to check that my blood pressure medication was working, but I was feeling pretty ill, with a sore throat and tender lymph nodes. I told my doctor it felt like the beginning stages of mono, which I had about 10 years ago. He said that it was probably an Epstein-Barr flare. Great! Just what I need on top of my fibromyalgia flares and my other pain conditions. Of course, there's nothing you can really do about an EBV flare except to "Go home and rest as much as possible." So, that's what I've been doing. Yet, even though I basically have a doctor's permission to sleep all day (EBV does that), I still feel guilty for wasting the days.
The funny thing about depression is that it steals your energy, makes you more prone to health problems, and takes away opportunities for fun and enriching experiences. It turns you into a hermit, and then gives you a guilt trip about it. Wash, rinse, repeat. It's been said before, by many people with chronic illness - "I am sick and tired of being sick and tired." It's spring! The weather has warmed, I can smell the earth and the rain, and it makes me want to go out and dance in a thunderstorm or, when it's not raining, take a walk in the woods. I want to get out and do Yelp events with Matt, and maybe even meet some new friends. I talk about doing these things in bed with Matt before he and I go to sleep.
Thanks to Xanax, I no longer lie awake, tossing and turning for hours. It's pretty much lights-out about an hour after I take the pill, so I time it that way. The problem is waking up. The problem has always been waking up. The prospect of getting out of bed, taking a shower, and getting dressed seem like monumental undertakings, especially now, when most of my clothes are in trash bags because we had to bag all our stuff for the pest treatment. I just haven't had the energy to go through everything. I used to take pride in the fact that I had my own space, which, before my latest bout of major depression hit just before the holidays last year, was the tidiest room in the house. I did my own laundry, and I put it away, you know, like an adult. Now I have all but abandoned my room. I have to "move out" soon anyway, so that Kate and Paul can have the space.
That's a whole other kettle of fish. We still need to talk about Kate and Paul in regards to the nitty-gritty details of our housing arrangement. My fear is that Paul will not be able to find a job for a long time, and we will end up running into problems that will strain our relationships. I just don't want to end up in the same kind of clusterfucks I've experienced in the past, and Matt has never been in a similar situation.
I feel like I need a vacation from my own life.
I am grateful to have a patient, care-taking husband who doesn't bat an eye when I need help on bad pain days.
I am grateful to have amazing friends like Laurel, who inspire me to do my best and to not get down on myself when I have a bad day.
I am grateful for the roof over my head, the food in my pantry, my four adoring fur-children, wifi and cable, and all the other things I might take for granted if I hadn't been a couch-surfing drifter for most of my 20s.
I am grateful for the opportunity to get the healthcare I need, and the ability to try different methods and different doctors if things don't feel right.
I am grateful for the days I am not feeling too sick to go out, even if I pay for it later.
I am grateful that none of my illnesses are immediately life-threatening, unlike the illnesses suffered by many of my friends and acquaintances, one of whom died of brain cancer recently.
I am grateful for the ability to speak my mind online, and share my journey with others who care, whether they are my friends, or someone who stumble across this blog and find something they can relate to.
I am grateful for thunderstorms, because they make me happy.
And now, I shall commence bitching.
I went to the doctor on Monday to check that my blood pressure medication was working, but I was feeling pretty ill, with a sore throat and tender lymph nodes. I told my doctor it felt like the beginning stages of mono, which I had about 10 years ago. He said that it was probably an Epstein-Barr flare. Great! Just what I need on top of my fibromyalgia flares and my other pain conditions. Of course, there's nothing you can really do about an EBV flare except to "Go home and rest as much as possible." So, that's what I've been doing. Yet, even though I basically have a doctor's permission to sleep all day (EBV does that), I still feel guilty for wasting the days.
The funny thing about depression is that it steals your energy, makes you more prone to health problems, and takes away opportunities for fun and enriching experiences. It turns you into a hermit, and then gives you a guilt trip about it. Wash, rinse, repeat. It's been said before, by many people with chronic illness - "I am sick and tired of being sick and tired." It's spring! The weather has warmed, I can smell the earth and the rain, and it makes me want to go out and dance in a thunderstorm or, when it's not raining, take a walk in the woods. I want to get out and do Yelp events with Matt, and maybe even meet some new friends. I talk about doing these things in bed with Matt before he and I go to sleep.
Thanks to Xanax, I no longer lie awake, tossing and turning for hours. It's pretty much lights-out about an hour after I take the pill, so I time it that way. The problem is waking up. The problem has always been waking up. The prospect of getting out of bed, taking a shower, and getting dressed seem like monumental undertakings, especially now, when most of my clothes are in trash bags because we had to bag all our stuff for the pest treatment. I just haven't had the energy to go through everything. I used to take pride in the fact that I had my own space, which, before my latest bout of major depression hit just before the holidays last year, was the tidiest room in the house. I did my own laundry, and I put it away, you know, like an adult. Now I have all but abandoned my room. I have to "move out" soon anyway, so that Kate and Paul can have the space.
That's a whole other kettle of fish. We still need to talk about Kate and Paul in regards to the nitty-gritty details of our housing arrangement. My fear is that Paul will not be able to find a job for a long time, and we will end up running into problems that will strain our relationships. I just don't want to end up in the same kind of clusterfucks I've experienced in the past, and Matt has never been in a similar situation.
I feel like I need a vacation from my own life.
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