Aside from being crazy, I’m generally healthy, despite my weight (which is still going down). Had a full checkup with blood work and all. Kidneys and liver both checked out fine. Thyroid is back in the normal range with medication. Blood pressure and heart rate are fine. No diabetes or anemia. Cholesterol is slightly elevated, which I’ll be treating with diet and exercise. Doctor feels no need for medication yet. Some blood test showed evidence of inflammation in my body. Well duh, tendonitis in my wrist. Doctor agrees that’s probably it.
So all in all, I’m just crazy. I haven’t been sleeping as well, despite medication. Same with the anxiety. Terrible nightmares where I’m being raped or tortured. Afterwards when doctors try to help me (usually involving giving me something like IV benzos to help me calm down so they can treat the injuries) I beg them to stop. Strangely enough, the doctor in the dream is usually “Ducky” from NCIS. I have no idea why, outside of the fact I’ve been watching a lot of NCIS lately.
Two weeks ago, my shrink gave me some IV compazine to combat the nausea I was having. I can definitely say having an IV placed at the base of your wrist, palm side is probably the most painful site. For some reasons, the nice veins in my hands went diving for cover. I was so tired and felt so sick and overwhelmed, I just lay there silently crying. The following week the doc asked why I had been crying. I explained and added that I was tired of feeling crazy and I was mad at my parents for contributing to my craziness (both genetically and environmentally).
It feels like I’m in a PTSD flare-up right now. They physical pain in my wrist doesn’t help. I think the touching, while helping on one level is making me more jumpy and anxious and flashbacky than usual. I guess I’ll try to explain that to Dr. P when I see him on Monday. It’s a good thing that he only gives me a week of meds at a time. I’ve got some niggling suicidal and Si urges going on as well.
Holy crap. I didn’t realize all this was going on until I started typing (sans splint, I’ll be a good girl and put it on as soon as I finish). I don’t want to feel like this. That’s different from 10 years ago. Then I thought I deserved to suffer and be punished. Now I just want to be happy. And I want it to be real. I don’t want it to be the forced happy mask I’ve been putting on at work.
And I guess I should clean up the apartment. The general level of pain and exhaustion has led to a mess of a living space. Doesn’t help that my washer is slightly unbalanced and it takes about 10x longer to do laundry than it should.
And damn it. I’m not going to cry! No. Stop it Kathryn Crap. Not working.