Category Archives: Illness

Bipolar – I Think You Should Take Fewer Pills

Standard

I’m going to notify my counselor that I must be rid of my med provider as soon as it can be arranged. I’ve told Arthur, my counselor, that I don’t feel that Jamie (med provider) is working in my best interest. My next appointment with her she started right off by confronting me about what I’d told Arthur. I confessed thit it was true.

It got me no where.

She says that I’m on too many pills and she doesn’t want to add anymore. Apparently, this is her rational for not giving me medication that might actually have helped me.

I’ve been practically begging for something for my anxiety that only get’ s increasingly more consuming with each passing day

This whole school year has been like a nightmare.

She doesn’t want to give me more pills? Bull!! It is not her choice to decide whether what other doctors prescribe me for illnesses she knows even less about than I do.

She has repeatedly used this as an excuse not to give me something that could prevented me from my brake down. I have high cholesterol, my thyroid is out of whack, I have chronic horrible lower back pain, I have FM, RA, OA, a facial tick (probably stress related), PTSD, and have recently been diagnosed with IBS-d. It’s a crap load of stuff, but they have all been dealt with by someone more intelligent than she is.

I’ve asked each and every visit for something to help with the burning anxiety. She refuses. She gives me fewer chill pills.

Does she think I like taking a handful of pills twice a day? Moron.

I’ve finally had a breakdown. I blame her. In December I confessed I’d been having thoughts of harming myself. I’d hidden that for years, but at that point it was too much, and I confessed it.

She did nothing.

If I can’t trust my med provider to guard my mental wellbeing, than who will? There aren’t many options here.

I’ve started to shake, Twitter, and twitch again. I’m graduating today. My anxiety that mixes like a charm with my mania and depression making my constant mixed state even more confusing and painful. It’s too much to handle anymore.

I’m firing her. She truly doesn’t have my best interests in mind. I don’t need one of my medical professionals contributing to my madness. That’s just sick.

Bipolar – Med Provider Day

Standard

I’m unstoppable.

I’ve been trying to sleep, but it eludes me like a chicken running for its life.

I’m going to see my med provider at 10 in the morning today. I hope she listens this time. If she doesn’t I’ll be requesting someone else and informing them of why I’m choosing to under go all the stress that comes with a decision like that. I’ve had enough.

I’m going to confront her with the facts. I’ve been keeping a list of my symptoms since I saw her 30 days ago. It has grown quite long. It looks even worse than before I was being medicated.

I’m unstoppable.

My pain management guy and I had to ween me off one of the long acting pain killers I’ve been taking for a couple of years because of supply issues. I went from 100 mg twice a day to 50 mg over night because there wasn’t anymore to be found anywhere. No one knew it was going to happen so there was no helping it. It didn’t feel so great. Then we kind of gradually weened me off the rest. Now my pain level is constantly higher. Also, the torn fascia in my foot still isn’t healed. It’s painful. I got special shoes for it today. But as the compassionate woman said while I walked around and around testing shoes, my foot was going to feel soar and tired. It still is. It wasn’t fun.

All this has added to my overall stress level, as you can imagine. Withdrawal is never a good time, nor is added pain.

I’m unstoppable.

I will be thankful if my counselor, Arthur, can make it to my appointment. He said he’d try. He feels it is important for her to understand my mental state from his side of the equation. He’s been with me two previous visits.

It hasn’t helped.

I’m still choosing to be unstoppable.

I may stumble, and I may fall over and over, but this damn illness is not going to continue to run my life. I’m very ill. I’m too exhausted not to fight anymore. I feel like my life has been a waste.

I’ve had enough.

I’m unstoppable.

Help me. Or, stay out of my way.

I refuse to stop!

When Sickness Meets Bipolar

Standard

Well, Barf Me Down!! Ho, Ho, Ho… omg…

barfingemojiI have embraced the not making any goals policy so far this year. However, I’m seriously considering thinking about thinking about it. Should I. Or shouldn’t I?

Right now, I’m focusing on the moment. I’ve been very, very sick since Christmas Day. I mean like they wanted me to go the ER if I didn’t pee within 2-3 hours of speaking with the nurse-on-call. Fortunately, I did and I’m SO GLAD that I did.

I then puked all the Gatorade (64 oz. over 8 hours) and a few Graham Crackers I’d had. Let me tell you, do not, do not! Puke Graham Crackers. It is very nasty.

I’ve had a few hours in a few days that I’ve felt well enough to get out and do stuff like go to the Pediatrist, classes and a movie or two. Other than that I’ve been completely housebound.

As I said, I did get out to see the Pediatrist. I have officially torn my fascia on my right foot. I use that foot to drive. So, I drive to class in my slipper, then put on my boot, then bobble across campus to my first class. Then I hobble back up campus to hang out during my lunch. Then I hobble up to the top of campus to my last class. Friday, it was a nightmare. I couldn’t in any way go to class. Nope. My body wasn’t having any of it.

I was beyond feeling desperate and it just kept going on and on.

For a few days… I was so frustrated and tired and sore that I forgot that I had this thing that mickey’s with my brain. You know what I mean. I have Bipolar Disorder of the highest order. Oh… I might sing- nope. It has passed.

I’m struggling to find something good that came of having been (still am) sick for so long and not doing any of the things I wanted to do over Winter Break. I didn’t want much. I just wanted to do some writing and get ahead on some assignments for school mostly. I don’t usually handle the stress well. Okay honestly, I never handle stress well. Anxiety spoons my  Bipolar. Makes me sick.

Anyway. I was thinking about when I had my first baby, back in 1992. She’s beautiful, and she’s alive, and she’s my best buddy, and she lives really close. Yes, there is a “butt” coming. When she was born she tore me from stem to stern. My friends wouldn’t let me tell other women about Jessica’s birth. It has traumatized every woman I have ever told the tale to. Why mention that now? Well, although the pain hasn’t been as bad, it has been sick along those lines. It has been horrible. It has been embarrassing. But, it’s a part of life. We all bear our personal burdens, you know what I mean? Sometimes they feel unrighteous or ill-mannered. Sometimes they feel like the world has a personal vendetta against me. Sometimes I just feel the need to scream and cry and do the stereotypical shaking-of-the-fist-at-the-air and shouting, “It isn’t fair, damn you!”

And then I snap back to reality, having just puked into the Kool-Aid container. Again. Shit. Again.

So here’s the thing. I’ve finally settled on a company name to cluster all my endeavors under in one happy little shinning thingie. I’m planning (Sounds like I’ve set a goal. Don’t get your hopes up just yet.) on building my projects around it, under it, over it, and so on.

Right now, I’m taking the Bailey out to do her bedtime stuff outside. A doggie has to do what a doggie has to do. She’s been so loyal and loving (but not too loving) and staying with me even when I holler. I’ve had to apologize over the last weeks though. She’s not partial to the raising of voices.

I’ve noticed I don’t have my email address anyplace on the blog. I want to invite you to leave comments in the “Comments” spot. Or, if you’d rather, you can email me directly. Send me a note at theBoss.bpdcomm@gmail.com. Like that name? “theBoss.” I’ve got to get some ego boosting someplace when I’m locked inside. I might as well manufacture my own. Gives me a giggle. ;0)

Be well my friends,

Robin