Bipolar medications

Bipolar – Insurance

/ Robin

I’ve been on the phone last Thursday, Friday and today with people of perhaps challenged intelligence trying to un-mess my daughter’s health insurance. No luck so far. Maybe tomorrow.

The thing that kills me about being Bipolar and insurance is not having or not having it… I mean insurance. The thing that kills me is that being both Bipolar 1, ADHD and being able to become depressed in the barest moment is that despite finally succeeding in getting my prescription for Lyrica cleared for my FM (Fibromyalgia) I’m depressed. (I’m a mixed state Bipolar so I’m very good at this little trick of the brain.)

I’m frustrated and angry and depressed and frustrated and angry and depressed…. I haven’t experienced more than a few minutes of gladness for the Lyrica victory. I’ll have to focus on this more and try to let the victory overtake me by it’s great possibilities for relief for me.

If you have BP or other such thing, you may find that you have difficulty with your health in other areas. I was reading an insurance fact sheet today that said that disabled people (of which I am a subset of) tend to neglect their health… Google it darling. ;0)

I have my father’s teeth. Neither of us have any. I’ve not been able to wear the standard dentures that the State provides to those on disability insurance. I’m hopeful (I hope) that my insurance will cover more costly ones including posts that will done at the University of Washington. I think it’s the School of Oral Surgery. I have complicating issues so I think, rather, I trust and hope, that the new face will be covered.

I have to be honest, the fear that insurance won’t cover a new face for me terrifies me. I’m 51 years old and I have no teeth. I cannot wear regular dentures.

Add my lack of ability of what I consider the ability to smile a truly joyful smile to my Alphabet soup and you have a mixture that’s hard to swallow. So to speak. Well, I did choke on a blueberry muffin this morning at breakfast.

And now… I simply cannot reread this. I hope that it is at least a little understandable. I’m very frustrated and irritable and need to explore my current method, well, my current exploration of a way, to reign myself in so I can slow down, if not be peaceful before bed. I’m speaking of something called Mindfulness.

Mindfulness… Do you know it? So far my friend it seems a good thing to hedge my bets by. (Or is that “with”?)

Good night.

Please write. I reply to all letters.

Bipolar on the Lawn

/ Robin

As it happens with so many “normal” events in life, I made certain that I was taking all my meds on time and the correct way during the week before and the days of… the nasty garage sale. I say nasty because we had maybe a dozen people stop by. Most of them bought something. Most spent about $2, which I’m thankful for. I think I have $270 more to save up before I can go see my eldest daughter in the Air Force over in Florida. I’ve not had a vacation in… um… I dunno. Doesn’t matter really. I want one really bad. I miss her and want to go see her. She’s having trouble swinging time to come home right now so it seems like it will be easier if one of us go to her. Me!!

I do wish the sale had actually SOLD more STUFF. Well, books mostly actually. Yes, like many other folks who dance the Bipolar dance I have my manic bits about me and inevitably one tenant of my mania tends to extend to …….. BOOKS. It has always been so hard to part with my books.

The weather today and yesterday was pretty perfect. So far this summer each time we tried to have the infamous sale either the weather thought it was in Washington (which it is, the state) or my other two kids were off doing things. There was no way in Liverpool that I was going to do this all myself.

So we get it all out there after I tolerate their not being able to wake up “hitting the ground running” and they’re enduring my lack of silence and immense energy. Yes. We are polar opposites. We annoy the heck out of each other. Since I talk the most I am the most likely to announce that I’m irritated that they seem dead for the first 3 hours they’re “up” on any given morning. Their faces silently curse me out. I know they’re thinking something like that. I know I would if I were they.

We got on each other’s nerves all morning. Till sometime around the 11 o’clock hour I think. I had a free mocha coming from one of the dozens of coffee shops, so I left them to their silence for 15 minutes while I went and got one. The pain meds I was going to have to take so I could work the garage sale would kick my butt soon after I took them. Best to have caffeine now and be prepared.  I picked up a blueberry muffin and had it warmed for Sydney, hoping it would cheer her sleeping psyche up. Nah. It’s her “time of the month”. Nothing is going to help a sleepy teenager when that second blow of the double whammy hits. Said it was good. Made her feel sick. Yeah.

To add to the excitement my service doggie in training, Bailey, who isn’t used to people coming and going so fast nor her humans being outside and her being inside all day. We closed the curtains and put the TV on a country music station and turned it up a bit. This way she couldn’t see us and hopefully, not hear us too much either. She calmed down pretty quickly. But indeed, she did need to come out to do her business. And then she took the opportunity to bark and whine and do somersaults and tie her leash around me and Kyle letting her trip me after hog tieing me.

Bailey has finally devoured every toy we’ve bought for her and even all the ones we’ve invented, like empty “Simply Lemonade” containers. They’re nice and sturdy and …. she eats them now. I used to put treats in them after she’d smashed them up good and stand them up in a group in the living room. She’d sit quietly by (after I told her to). Then I say, “Go!” and she’d leap into action. Oh all kinds of inventive ways to empty those treats out would then come forth. Let me tell you… she’s one smart cookie. I swear she’s ADHD just like me.

The kids’ grandmother on their father’s side came today and brought Bailey a new toy. Everything we’d tried the last few weeks has seen the inside of her stomach far too much for our liking so when she arrived with a potentially workable toy we were overjoyed.

At the time of this writing, Bailey and I are on the back deck. She’s going from one lawn chair to the other. Back and forth. Her toy tags along. It’s a rope with … I mean a ball with a rope toy going through the center. The ball is just hard enough for her to only pierce it a bit. The rope makes it easy to handle, sort of. That’s the fun of sitting in the camping folding chairs on the deck. She keeps bringing it up with her – and losing it as soon as her feet let go of their death grip on it. Yes, feet. How they use them like hands I’ll never know.

It’s all very funny.

We’re out here alone… nope. She’s gone in to eat. Anyway, reflecting over the day. Okay, maybe I’m just wanting to be outside a little longer and listen to all the strange birds and frogs. And airplanes. And cars. And rabbits.

Kyle torqued Sydney and I off by bugging out at 2 o’clock to go babysit my parents dog. Not puppy. Dog. This i find always annoys me. It’s usually when I need whatever child they steal from me when they snag them. Like today. A huge table full of books is still outside waiting for Kyle to come home (maybe around 9 o’clock) and cart them all in. Sydney’s knee and girl parts ran out of gas and into the pain danger zone and my back (degenerative disk disease from the top to the bottom) shot past said zone and into the “I’m going to throw up soon” level of pain. Yeah. Does wonders for my state of mind.

I started my day off making sure that I ate breakfast and took a chill pill before anyone else got up. And I took another one mid day. And another one when we came back in afterwards.

Sydney fell asleep on her bed wrapped in a pile of blankets hours ago. I’m finally able to rise from my ice chair with minimal pain levels (ice and pain meds make a nice kick) and I don’t want to puke now.

Bailey hasn’t stayed still in either of the two camping chairs nor the deck nor her very own large cardboard box for more than perhaps two minutes at a time thus far. I think two minutes might be generous. She’s finally left her new toy on the deck. She’s trying to keep her eyes open and listen to all the sounds around us. She’s fading. Me too. Been a long weekend.

I met my goal of not losing my mind and hollering at the kids. Yeeeaaahhhh!!! Ah, but now I’m slapping bugs. Time to go in. Oh man. Bailey just settled down in a chair next to me and is asle… nope. She’s just pretending to be asleep. Oh little bark. Sydney just popped her head out and startled Bailey. Time to go in. I think a bug went down my shirt. Little bugger. Now that, will piss me off.

Thanks for the meds doc. I’m feeling better.

Drop me a line! I answer all msgs. Let’s kick things around a bit.

And… Tell your friends!

Robin

Bipolar 1, ADHD, FM, PTSD, Anxiety, Chronic Pain, OA – Now What??

/ Robin

If I’d started my blog off listing all my bits of my alphabet you might have clicked off and dismissed me as a hypochondriac. Personally, I might have too. However, the fun facts pile continuously up and I wonder if I might be much older than my drivers license says I am.

I’m 51 degrees old. Wait. 51 years old. Yes, that’s it. I think it’s time I leveled with you and give you my “medical” life. I am much more than my medical stuff. I’ve had my right knee replaced twice – in just two years. I know, that’s very young to even have it done once, but twice on the same knee… Skip that. Here’s a “brief” list. Each item is a medically real thing for me.

Bipolar 1
ADHD
FM
PTSD
Anxiety
Chronic Pain
Degenerative Disk Disorder
OA
2 Total Knee Replacements
Cataracts
Allergies – environmental, biological and food
Depression
Manic
Stress – Excessive
Obsess
Asthma
Dentures – Full

I’ve also had a ruptured appendix, broken ankle, blood clots, carpal tunnel syndrome, rage… I think you get the idea.

Over the last couple of months I’ve thought I’ve been falling asleep while driving. It freaks the freak out of me. No matter what I do I don’t seem able to prevent it. I even pull over and try to nap just so I can complete a 40 minute drive home. I’m not able to nap when I pull off the road. I try. No go. I can sleep in a parking lot when I’m too tired to drive, but it’s not working now. I sing, I scream, I pound my feet on the floor, I hit my steering wheel… Nothing helps.

It’s very scary. No, it terrifies me. Suddenly I’m about to rear end another car or find myself drifting to one side or the other. I’ve been asking my health care people what it could be. I eventually got around to my pain management specialist. I described it to her and asked if she thought it might be any of my many medications. Like my med provider, she didn’t think so. She wanted to know if I was born prematurely. Nope. Seizures? Nada.

Michelle, the pain specialist, asked if I could describe what happens as a “loss of time”. Maybe I’m not really falling asleep. Maybe I’m just losing time and tune back in just seconds later. Do I remember actually falling asleep or feeling sleepy. No. I’ve even tried coming home and trying to sleep. Not sleepy. No naps.

She sent me home charging me with looking into Absence Seizures. She knows I love to research stuff. I appreciate that she lets me learn and talk with her about my health care. I have read a bit about Absence Seizures. I think she might be right. Before I left she agreed she would get me in to see a neurologist she likes to use in a city about an hour from here. I’m going to have an EEG to see what’s going on.

New bipolar med on Wednesday… Friday a possible new diagnosis to add to my alphabet soup. Know what I keep thinking?

… Well shit.

Licked by Lamictal

/ Robin

Licked by Lamictal. Yep. I had requested that we lower the dosage and find another drug to use for my Bipolar 1 mixed state because I’m fair skinned (millions of freckles) and as soon as the sun made it’s annual appearance I started burning… in the shade, with sun screen on and with a long sleeve shirt. I mean what the heck is that all about? I didn’t want to go through it all again so I begged my med provider to change it. Not my shirt, the drug.

We backed off from 200 mg twice a day to just 200 in the evening. Within 2 weeks my youngest daughter (17) was actively searching for large boards to bonk me up side the head with. Yeah, I really sucked eggs. The really sickening things about it this time were that “I” chose to lower the medication and “I” slid head first in the inferno that is my brain roaming freely like a blind cat on a boat in high seas.

I called Jane, my med provider, and asked to come in to see her much earlier than my scheduled appointment. I was in her office in two days. We changed the dosage, raising it again over 3 weeks. I had met my new counselor when I was rapidly sliding into the pit and was a manic momma for the first two visits. Then, this week I had my third meeting with her.

I sat calmly and we talked. We talked back and forth. We worked together. It was nice. She mentioned that the change in me from the first two meetings to this one were remarkable. Indeed they were, they are. I asked her, “If you met me today and I behaved as I am doing now and I told you I’m a raging Bipolar 1 mixed state would you believe me?” Her answer was exactly what everyone says… “No.”

The Lamictal gives me the ability to fence in a lot of my insanity and I can pretend I’m “normal” and that I don’t really want to jump up and tell you how stupid you are. I’m smart. I know how to fake “normalicy”. It has come in handy (in fact I felt it was necessary to keep my ex-husband from getting his moronic, I live in another plane of reality, over the top and burning in hell as a terrible father, rotten Christian and ex-husband). I didn’t want them to take my babies away from me. No way. I fought myself like hell. I learned how to fake it really well.

At the end of our meeting I asked Julia (counselor) if she had just met me for the first time today would she believe I was as overwhelmingly Bipolar 1 as I say I am. Absolutely not. I let my secret out with more than a little pride I must confess. I told her that when I met new medical people (new to me) I always “let the crazy out” enough for them to believe that I’m more than a tiny bit messed up. She was amazed. Then I reminded her of my situation with the kids and that that desperate motivation and my above average intelligence giving me the messed up strength to stumble on each day. Mostly… Kind of. Sometimes. Blah…

Now before you jump up and down and up again shouting that I’m suffering from our common trait lovingly referred to as “megalomania” or “delusions of grandeur” understand this: I have lived most of my life believing that we each need to have an accurate estimation of our abilities. If you’re amazing, it’s perfectly fine to think it and sometimes, when the time is appropriate, to say it. “I am a high functioning Bipolar 1 mixed state. Very high functioning.” Never let that fool you into lethargy and believing wrongly that I’m perfectly fine and don’t need to be watched with due care. If you do, you are a moron.

Got good meds that are working for you? With your med provider’s help? Then keep taking the bloody things. Don’t ever risk sliding down that dark shoot to the garbage bin of your soul. Will you do that for me? Trust your people. If you can’t, find someone you can trust.

Just never, ever, stop your meds without a safety net.

I mean it. Watch it.

Mind the gap.

I Am . . . Afraid

/ Robin

I’m still depressed. My Lamictal dosage is rising steadily and is currently at 350 mg daily. Maybe it’s starting to work because I already was taking 200 mg daily. Maybe I realized how afraid I really am. Oh sure, I go to see my med provider every two weeks again (back up from once monthly) and my counselor weekly, but somehow I “feel” worse off. It’s almost as if having my mental/emotional needs addressed again with such intensity tripped me up really hard. I’m at a place in life where I am so afraid… it’s the kind of fear that sucks your brain out and leaves you stunned and unable to think straight. The depression, anxiety and anger seem like they are swarming about me. They suck at my soul. They lap at the fallen corner stone of my very being…

I’ve lost my purpose and I’m so afraid.

I was trying to think of an image that would demonstrate how I feel. It’s pretty hard to Google “afraid, depressed, anxious, without purpose” and expect anything helpful to pop up. I thought of Leonardo de Vinci  and some of they dramatic faces he drew. I looked at a few and this one seems to come kind of near to what I want you to see… my fear. The man is shouting. The setting is the Battle of Anghiari.

 

da_vinci_shouting_man

da Vinci’s “Shouting Man”

Let me try to explain to you my friend, what I mean. During some of my very dark periods I was able to hold on to one thing, one certainty, that kept me going and gave me purpose… a reason to live. That purpose was to be the best mom that I could be and raise my kids to be the best people they could be. Growth them strong.

Now, they are old enough to not need me to keep my hand locked firmly on the tiller of their lives. They steer themselves. They are moving on and I am lost. From the time my eldest was born in 1992 my passion, my calling, my purpose, was to be “Mom”. I’ve thought that I have had other purposes along the trail of my life, but somehow being “Mom” over shadowed them all and now I am fighting myself just to remember what I believed I needed and wanted passionately to do… to be.

I am afraid that I’m a failure. No one needs me any longer. I keep to myself mostly. My family and I are not particularly close. I don’t work or volunteer. Putting it short: I don’t feel that I have anything to contribute to the world.

My fear has driven me off my path. I allowed bushes and hedges to crowd my chosen path and completely obscure it from my vision. I know, well, I think I knew what my “vocation”, that is what my passion was. I feel empty and bruised. I don’t want life to touch me. I seem to think it will injure me by exposing my worthlessness to me.

I’m trying to pull together my wits and engage in the monumental fight with myself to reclaim who I am and what I’m about, my purpose.

And, my pain meds for chronic back pain (degenerating disks all up/down my spine have kicked my butt and I just nodded off. Tomorrow I’ll attempt to pull myself together enough to begin discussing with myself how to deal with myself this time. I’ve already worked it out in advanced, but this lack of purpose, this is new and frighting.

I’m letting the drug induced sleep take me away from the fear for a time. Starting physical therapy this last week had kicked up my pain, as I knew it would. It makes the whole of me even more difficult to deal with. At this particular moment I feel like in the morning I can begin to pull my will back together. That is, unless I conveniently forget what I intend on doing with myself, again.

Time to sleep.