Dear Klonipin

To my dear friend Klonipin,

What would I do without you?  I know, I would pace and fret and waste a lot of energy, accomplishing very little. You calm my nerves, help me regain control of my emotions, and allow me to focus a little. However, I find that you demand a price for this brief measure of peace: a piece of my memory or an unquiet rest.

I don’t understand how you can wield such power.  Power to rescue, power to curse.  You threaten to addict me.  And they tell me you are the weakest of your siblings.

And so it is a dance with you, my friend.  I will allow you to lead when I have need, but I will leave the floor when I wish it.

It is with great regret that I say we can not stay friends forever.

 

 

© Manic Monday (manicmonday123). Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Manic Monday (manicmonday123) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Worker’s Incompetent

Just had to share this…  I received a call yesterday from the company that (supposedly) coordinates my physical therapy.  They called to schedule my PT.  I called them back and said, “I really don’t understand this call, I have been attending PT for a week.”  So they check my file.  I go over with them where I am going to PT, how they got it approved (neglected to mention that they never told me about the approval but perhaps this is the first time they figured it out), and when I started.  I even told them that my nurse case manger knew all about it and it should be in my file.  Then they say, “OK, I guess your adjuster didn’t know.”

I relay this story to my PT today.  And she says, “They had to know, they are ones who approved it.”  I had already figured this out, but hearing it from someone else just makes it all that much more amusing.  There are too many people with their fingers in this pie, I am amazed that anything gets done.  Think of all the money the company would save (and how much faster the process would be)  if all this could be taken care of with just a doctor and one company handling the paperwork?

Now I have to go into work to see the company doctor because my personal doctor doesn’t want me working because of my right arm (well, both arms, but the right is the only one he’s allowed to treat), and the worker’s comp doctor says I don’t need any work restrictions, so I guess the company doctor will be the arbitrator of truth.  I give up.

Ah well, there is good news.  My blood pressure is lower.  A bit too low now, but we will work that out.  At least I’m not about to have a stroke.

 

© Manic Monday (manicmonday123). Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Manic Monday (manicmonday123) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

MRI Freakout

What the hell?

I calculate this is the 15th or 16th MRI I’ve had since 2002.  I have had my entire spine done, my brain (repeatedly for monitoring MS), and my elbow.  Today, I had a second MRI on my elbow to try to track how much progress I’ve made in PT over the past year.  I couldn’t do it.  I don’t know why.  At first the tech set me up on my back, but this is tricky because the rest of your body has to squeeze onto the platform.  When she slid me into the instrument, my other shoulder was crowded along the interior – this sent me into a panic attack.  OK, so we try getting me set up on my stomach, which is how we did it last year.  Take a minute, breathe deeply. OK, try again. She kept saying, “watch your head.  Maybe you need to lower your head; I don’t want it to bump.  We’ll slide you in and then see what happens.”

BOOM!  Panic!  Back out! Back out!  I started crying.  I was desperately wishing for a Klonopin, but I forgot to pack my bottle.  (I’ve been trying to avoid taking them whenever possible.)  I asked her to go get DH who was in the waiting room.  He came back and calmed me down.  She said he could stay in the room.  I was able to get into the instrument (eyes closed) and get through the first scan.  Then, DH, decides during the second scan that he will kindly count off the number of minutes remaining on my leg.  It’s distracting and it tickles.  I tried to kick him to get him to stop, but he took this as a sign that I was OK. It’s really difficult to communicate in a room containing an active MRI.

In between the second and third scan, I threatened him.  This stopped the tickling but then my nose started to itch.  When I mentioned the itchy nose, the tech asked if I could reach to scratch it.  I didn’t dare do that.  First, those instruments don’t have a lot of room.  Second, I was afraid if I opened my eyes, I would panic again.  At some point during my third scan, I began to think about my impending gallbladder surgery, and that started to freak me out.  So, I backed off from that idea and instead counted the number of MRI’s I have had in my life.

My husband thinks my panic attack is a result of all the stress I’ve been under.  How does a person suddenly become claustrophobic?  Or is it just that I can’t handle all this medical crap that’s been heaped upon me?

 

© Manic Monday (manicmonday123). Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Manic Monday (manicmonday123) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Self Punishment

***WARNING: Emotionally charged.***

Why do I punish myself?  Isn’t it enough that the rest of the world is willing to do it for me?

I’m not talking about flogging (like medieval Catholic monks) or cutting or anything like that.  I’m talking about mental abuse.  I mentally abuse myself by telling myself how worthless I am, how incompetent, how useless. How I deserve to have bad things happen to me.

Why do I do this? Why? Why? Why?

I’ve made mistakes in my life.  I’m not perfect.  I’ve done things I’ve regretted because I was manic or hurting or just plain stupid at the time.  I’ve hurt people with my cutting words, and I use them on myself just as readily.  Maybe that’s why I figure it’s OK.  It’s OK to hurt someone else because I do it to myself.  All’s fair, right?  At least I’m not biased in that.

Or maybe it’s because my parents taught me I am not good enough.  My ex affirmed it with every strike of his fist.  It must be true.

I’ve even got a playlist guaranteed to make me cry.  “Unwell” (Matchbox Twenty), “Lithium” & “Imaginary” & “Tourniquet” (Evanescence), “Wasting My Time” (Default), “Away from the Sun” & “Loser” (3 Doors Down), “Paint it Black” & “Mother’s Little Helper” (Rolling Stones) – you get the picture.  I’ll listen to it over and over again until the pain eases, until the tears subside, or until I’m too exhausted to keep fighting.

My head pounds without hurting – as if someone is walking through it slamming doors, hitting walls, smashing, stabbing, choking.  My mind is a jumble.  It’s a struggle to breathe.  Tears stream from my eyes like a river.  Sometimes I’m screaming, slamming the doors, pounding the floor – sometimes I’m curled up rocking.  Just like the crazy person your mother warned you about.

Out of control.  With no way of grasping the reins of sanity.

God help me.  Except God and I aren’t on speaking terms.  How can we be?  Where is He when I need Him the most?  When my soul is drowning in my own mind. Fear.  Panic.  Pain. Torture.

Don’t you dare put me in a hospital.  It’s bad enough that I’m caught in HELL.  I don’t want to be trapped there.

My soul is bleeding. Screaming in silence. Why can’t anyone hear me?  Why can’t anyone save me?

 

© Manic Monday (manicmonday123). Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Manic Monday (manicmonday123) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

PT Bruises

My arm is covered in bruises from physical therapy. And I have PT again tomorrow. It’s from a procedure called ASTYM. (http://astym.com/) It is supposed to be very good for tendon issues, and it has helped my right arm considerably over the past year, even if the first person who did it was doing it wrong. But I dread going back to PT, because, well, this $#@^% hurts!

ASTYM involves taking hard plastic tools and scraping them along the length of the tendon and muscle. (If you’d like to witness this torture, then you can watch the video: http://astym.com/video/)  Fortunately, they slather your arm in cocoa butter first so it glides along the surface. Can you imagine how painful it would be if they didn’t? And they don’t HAVE to bruise you in order for it to work, they just do.  And they keep torturing the same specific area.  My left forearm has more than 10 different bruises, many that run into each other, the largest of which is nearly 2″ in diameter.  I think physical therapists are secretly sadists.

The way it works is that it stimulates blood flow to the area which instigates healing.  This is especially important for tendons because they don’t get a lot of blood flow in the first place.  It’s also supposed to break up any fibrous tissue (aka scar tissue) so that when you stretch, the muscles & tendons lay down proper tissue in the correct direction.  Does it work? yes.  Has it worked for me? partially.  My right elbow should be completely healed by now, but it’s not.  But then I’m a bit of a medical mystery anyway.

I go to PT. I do my stretches every day.  My right elbow improves incrementally, but my wrist hurts more since I started PT than it did before. I’m scared.  I’ve started developing nerve pain in my left wrist too.  Keep in mind, the left wrist is the one that is “only a sprain” and doesn’t require any job restrictions, thanks to worker’s comp.

So what do I do now?  I don’t know. Keep going to PT I guess.  I have PT every day this week – either for the left wrist or the right elbow.  I realize that it’s my “job” to get better right now, but looking at that 2″ bruise and knowing it’s going to get pounded on tomorrow, makes me really not want to go into “work”.

 

© Manic Monday (manicmonday123). Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Manic Monday (manicmonday123) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

To dose or not to dose?

To dose or not to dose, that is the question.

I saw the neurologist again today.  Since I was having such a difficult time with the Neurotin, he asked if I would be willing to try Lyrica.  The side effects are similar, but it may not affect me as badly as the Neurontin did.  So I am going to try it, but I don’t know if I have high hopes.

I’d told him that the Neurontin made me depressed and that I was still suffering.  He said that because Neurontin is a short term medication (it only lasts 4-6 hours), I should no longer be affected by the depression side effect because I had stopped it last week.  Great.  So how do you explain this depression?

I’ve often wondered what actually triggers a manic or depressive episode.  We often say stress – but is there more to it than that?  Perhaps stress just makes us vulnerable to the one incident or event that triggers the spiral.  For example, could it be that the Neurontin started the depression and that even though I’m no longer taking it (thus no longer subject to that particular side effect) it is too late to fight this oncoming storm?  Did the drug start the ball rolling down a hill and I am incapable of stopping it? If I was a normal person, would I no longer be depressed because the medication is out of my system?

Side effects, drug interactions, body chemistry – together they build a house of cards that is in a tenuous equilibrium.  The more medication that I add to the mix, the more complicated the structure becomes.  So the real question is: to dose or not to dose?  Which is the greater evil: the medication or the illness?  How do we chose?

 

© Manic Monday (manicmonday123). Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Manic Monday (manicmonday123) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.