I went to the dentist today because I’ve been having jaw pain. It’s most likely TMJ from clenching my jaw and grinding my teeth. Yay. Just add it to the list of crap in my life.
The reason for the title is that I’m a huge wuss. I hate going to the dentist. I’m down right phobic, actually. I ended up getting a referral to the local dental school to check out a root canal I had a while back. She also filled a small cavity. I hate the balloon lip feeling I get from the Novocaine. I’ll eat some mac and cheese for dinner because mac and cheese always makes me feel better.
So, next week I go in for a cleaning. In theory, that is. I haven’t decided if I’m going to keep the appointment. Phobias are irrational things. And even through I know it’s only a cleaning, that doesn’t always help. Maybe I’ll talk to Dr. D about it tomorrow. Sigh.
I’m so mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted. I started the day with the psychiatrist. Initial sessions are always long. Having to go through my history is beyond demanding. Fighting back tears (and failing miserably) left me drained after the first 30 minutes. Then she drops the little bomb shell that she thinks I’m psychotics. I basically told her I respectfully disagree. Hearing the voice of one of my abusers is more likely a PTSD symptom (PDF) rather than a psychosis symptom. She wanted to put me on one of the newer antipsychotics. I told her no. I absolutely and positively wouldn’t go down that route again. I gained so much weight on them and they sent my cholesterol sky high. I don’t need that crap again. She didn’t seem pleased with my refusal, but it’s my body. Honestly, it’s not causing me that much distress that I think it needs to be medicated. I’m quite aware the voice isn’t real and what the origin of it is. I’m not putting those drugs in my body unless I’m going crazy. I think they’re overused for things like bipolar, PTSD, ADHD (!) and Autism (!!!). So, in the end, she upped one of my meds and put me back on Cymbalta for the depression and chronic pain. Once I’m doing somewhat better, she wants me to get back into therapy. I’m not against that. I just need to find
someone the energy to find someone.
Then it was to the hospital side to register for blood work and an EKG. I’m still not 100% certain why she feels she needs the EKG, but whatever. The nice man filling in from another department was trying to register me into the ER, which is why he couldn’t find the doctors name. Once that was fixed, I got to the lab where the paperwork was screwed up because my age ended up getting entered as 103. I don’t even know how that happened. I got stabbed in the hand, leaving me with a nice little lump and a big old bruise.
Then the fun really began. Gynecologist time. I kid you not… when the nurse took my BP, I almost had a stroke right there given how high it was (190/130) after it being normal (120/80) earlier in the day. She was pretty alarmed until I told her I was basically sitting there having a panic attack. The doctor was really nice. She tried to be as gentle as she could. It isn’t that easy since my body is a bit weird and I was, well, freaking out. At least I don’t have to go back for a year, and then only for a quick check, not the full thing.
I’m about to take my meds and go to bed. I’ve finally gotten myself mostly calmed down. But I’m exhausted.
I just don’t have the energy to blog. I nearly freaked out when Dr. P told me to take two showers a day. I was frank and said it was never going to happen.
I bought a glucose meter. More often than not, I’m hypoglycemic. I have Gatorade on hand and a small can of Coke if my sugar really drops.
As before this blog is officially on hold. This is just an update for those asking.
I hate thunderstorms. I’m fighting serious dissociation and regression. I am afraid and I’m embarrassed.
This dental thing is not going to be an easy process. Because of the fibro, I’m especially sensitive to pain. So even with the Novocaine, he still had to double up in some places. Actually it made me laugh a bit because my nose was numb.
Interestingly, right now the pain seems to be where a couple of those needles went. The tooth he pulled… let’s juts say if he wants to do that again, I don’t want to be awake. It didn’t hurt per say, but the sounds. OMG, I just shudder thinking about it.
I was fine until everything was over. Then I started crying. I couldn’t help it. The man sent one of his hygienists to get me lunch. My stomach was going crazy, so I just took it with me. I gave the sandwich to my boss and drank the banana smoothie. I’m afraid to eat. I made some mashed potatoes for dinner. I got about three bites into me.
Off to bed now. I have to teach my last (yay!) vacation class in 12 hours. Plus the cats are trying to kill each other. This is definitely a night for the PRN anxiety med Dr. P prescribed.