zeptember

As of August 18, I felt I had come out of my funk. Of course, that’s when I began spotting. I got my period on August 19, and had a hard time of it, but in general I was not depersonalising or becoming suicidal or falling into deep depressions anymore, and the mania had calmed down.

My anxiety kicked up on Sunday, August 22, because I was still in pain - I had the ‘last gasp’ as we call it, where there’s one last push of big pain and bleeding before the menstrual cycle stops again for the next 21 or so days. But the pain lasted alllll damned day. So I resumed taking ativan along with my pain meds and was a total zombie all day Sunday.

When I got to work on Monday - it was my first day back to work after being gone all summer for the teacher training - I required 1.5 ativan to get through the workday.

Monday was also my first visit with a new psychologist - Lynda Sussman. I like her. I will be seeing her weekly.

I don’t remember if I took any ativan at all on Tuesday, August 24, but the next day, on August 25, I found out that my chosen sister’s papa had died. he was my adopted/chosen grandpa. He always treated me like family. I cried for part of the day at work, and got home and spent the rest of the evening sobbing while talking to my chosen sister over the phone.

I required 2 ativan to get through Tuesday.

Today I was just a wreck, and have so far taken 3.5 ativan to get through the day/night. I took these over the course of the day, but still.
I had another chemical exposure at work today (orange oil cleaners to scrape masking tape off the floor) - I was wearing a mask & gloves but the chems leaked through gloves. I walked back into the room after taking my mask off, and was sent outside cuz I was faint/flushed and didn’t realise it was BECAUSE of the fumes. After work, I noticed my bike helmet was gone. Then, my shoelace got caught in the pedal on the way home.
And of course I’m still sad about my chosen sister’s Papa. All this makes for a needful night of crocodile tears. There’s been a lot of crying, lately. I haven’t cried such huge, wet tears this often since I was a teenager.

Oh, and I am now wondering if the bouncy leg thing is from the ativan, but then, didn’t I have this symptom before getting on ativan? Too tired to check.

I was supposed to work today, then go to the gym. Instead, I came home from work, cried hard on and off, got into pajamas, then street clothes, then pajamas, then street clothes, then pajamas again, crying each time I changed clothes, because I was trying to go to the gym but just couldn’t do it. I wanted to run a load of laundry at 8pm but just couldn’t do it. It was all I could do to clean the catboxes. I have not eaten dinner. I ate I dunno how many M&M candies, and cried some more.

And now, after this last 1mg ativan I popped about an hour ago, I’m ready to be a zombie and be in bed, now.

Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow is Friday. Tomorrow is game night with friends, even though I wanna go dancing. But if I go dancing, I WILL get drunk. So game night it is.

On a positive note, both the school owner and the director both keep telling me how great it is to have me back, and that means so much to me, so very much. I am loved and appreciated.

I need to keep seeing Dr. Sussman, and also get myself a psychiatrist, because Dr. Sussman thinks I am Bipolar II and need to be on mood stabilisers. I totally agree with her.

The Dad News
Father-in-law is doing somewhat better. We spent a few hours with him in hospital. He’s still not able to eat solid food without vomiting, and he has been officially diagnosed with a “porcelain gallbladder” - it’s totally calcified.

Communication issues continue to abound at Kaiser. He had no tests run today, although he’s slated for three or four tests. Ugh. His wife is getting all the accurate hospital lingo and whatnot put together to file the complaint about the induced heart attack. We got to watch him get a dialysis treatment while we were there - it won’t finish til 5am cuz it takes 10 hours. Yeesh.

We gave him two books to read, and tonight, fortunately, he’s all set up with some of his favourite teevee programs.

The Financial News
My husband got paid on the 10th, so now the financial crap is getting better, which gains me back some sanity points. Even better, I was able to talk rationally with Aetna and Magellan to get all the medical bills straightened out - the outlook is not nearly so grim as I had originally thought. I also talked to the crazy psychologist I saw yesterday and we agreed it didn’t work out (him because he wants to get paid NOW and me because, well he’s more neurotic than me, but I didn’t tell him that). The next challenge is to find out whether Magellan will continue to allow me to see the pain management psychologist at the $30-per-visit co-pay rate, or if it is now jacked. I left a message for the shrink today, to see if she’s submitted the second visit to Magellan, yet, and whether it was rejected, paid at 90%, paid at 70%, or what.
I then called Alameda Hospital and got on a payment plan to pay off the emergency room bill I acquired back in June, when a co-worker’s perfume (Chanel No. 9) snapped my throat shut without warning and then when I could breathe again, my throat felt swollen and sticky. I got a shot of Benadryl, Epinephrine, and Ativan that day in the E.R., and I am now the unfortunate owner of an Epi-Pen. But anyway, I am happy to report that we can pay down the $300 in monthly installments over the next four months…which is better than being forced to pay it all right now.

My Emotional State
My mood was stable all day, thank [insert deity here]. I got several more illustrations done for my stupid homework. Tomorrow I am taking a break from illustrating the stupid binders, and I’ll be working on the Rationale papers, instead. Good gods, there’s just way too much homework. I have notified my teachers, and all of them have replied in a supportive manner, so that’s good.

My Gynecologist office even called me back today to check on me, and said that it is entirely possible that if the endometrioma on my left ovary is still growing, that it can knock my already shaky hormonal “balance” further off kilter. She’s scheduled me to come in for the followup ultrasound as soon as my famous GYN gets back from Greece. It’s still a month wait, but it’s better than nothing. I just have to get through the next month intact, sanity-wise.

The Cat News
My male cat has been peeing on stuff since last November, as I’m sure I have mentioned. His last bad behaviour was yesterday. We have tried the following:

• shoving his nose in it and saying BAD KITTEH!
• spraying him with vinegar
• when that didn’t work, we tried being even more loving despite the bad behaviour
• getting a second litter box
• cleaning the litter boxes more frequently
• using Nature’s Miracle to clean up the stains
• using Feliway pheremone wall plug-in
• using Anti-Icky Poo to reclean the stains
• allowing him back into the bedroom during the day so he stops howling outside the door
• anti-depressants

This cat has refused every method of anti-depressant administration so far. I have pushed the pill down his throat, I have used a pill pusher tool, I paid extra to get the stuff compounded so I could squirt the liquid form of it down his throat. All of this resulted in mass quantities of vomit throughout the house, so we stopped trying until yesterday, when I decided to try to put the liquid meds in his wet food.
He took one sniff and chose not to eat.
But at least he didn’t puke, which is a good thing.
In the last 24 hours, he has not peed or pooped on anything outside of the catbox, which is also a good thing.
I do daily and nightly black-light patrols throughout the house now, checking for cat urine and cat feces.
It’s good that I didn’t find any today. I gotta say it was a good day.

I will be taking Ativan before bed again tonight, because I know I’m still stressed out, and I don’t want to wake up feeling like I’m having a heart attack again like I did a few weeks ago. I thought I was handling all the stress of school and of not pulling a paycheck this summer, and then I woke from a dead sleep feeling nauseous, tight in the chest, hard to breathe, racing pulse - all the things I don’t NORMALLY experience when having a panic attack. My “usual” panic attack is a flutter in the throat and the need to run from something, and the desire to scream gutturally over and over and over while attempting to run out the nearest door or window.

So uh, yeah. Don’t wanna chance any form of panic attack. I’m totally using the Ativan as a crutch right now. I am so glad to not have had to take any of it today so far. Bedtime I will take it.

*sigh*

My poor husband has now sunk into depression. First he had to see me lose my mind, then his father nearly died. B got drunk and was hungover this morning, so half of today really also sucked for him. My poor honey. I have been giving him lots of hugs and kisses. And ice cream. And a worry stone. And just small little things to try to help him get through the day.

Again, I pray to [insert deity here] that I have another emotionally stable day on Thursday. Two for two, let’s do this!

Thursday, July 22 - pre-menstrual pain so bad that I spent the last half of the last day of Cultural teacher training class sobbing. Friday and Saturday, I felt a little better, go figure. The cramps were moderate on those two days.

Sunday, July 25 to Wednesday, July 28 - spent four days in a hard wooden chair, because for some reason, my body was in too much pain being on the soft couch or bed. Lots of Tylenol 3 and Advil for the endometriosis pain, which stayed constantly at about a 7 on the scale. Heavy bleeding. Tried cannabis edibles which gave me long, unwanted mind trips and did very little for the pain.

Thursday, July 29 - Was about to head to my pain management appointment at UCSF when I checked the joint bank account and found it EMPTY, with several bills waiting to roll through. Panic ensued. Woke husband, who said he had no money to spare. Argument ensued as to how he thought he was supposed to take care of of me financially this summer for school and pay all my bills when obviously there was a giant error in calculation. More panic ensued. Immediate dangerous depression, as money issues are a huge trigger for me, emotionally.

Friday, July 30 - Slept 11 hours. Tired all day. Blamed post-menstrual body detox from spending a week on Tylenol 3. Also very depressed - dangerously depressed, due to the financial situation. Did not leave the house.

Saturday, July 31 - What can only be described as a psychotic break. Did not leave the house for my own protection. Spent the day alternating between crying, babbling, rearranging the house, and finding all the old cat piss that I hadn’t found previously - my male cat has been targeting my stuff to pee on since last November.

Sunday, August 1 - Continued “mixed episode” - bipolar with psychotic features. Did not leave the house. Cat resumed peeing on my stuff because I’d moved furniture around.

Monday, August 2 - Spent the day crying and trying to get homework done. Did not leave the house for my own protection.

Tuesday, August 3 - Did not leave the house. Did homework for much of the day. In the late evening, songs triggered memories of old friends, caused me sorrow and fully distracted me from getting further homework done.

Wednesday, August 4 - Forced myself out of the house - I went to an art store in Berkeley. After buying fresh coloured pencils for my homework, I was witness to a parking lot collision. This set off triggers of a near death accident in 1994, and when I got home, I sobbed for much of the rest of the day.

Thursday, August 5 - Went to local doctor for anxiety/depression. I got 1mg Ativan prescription and promised to see a psychologist. I did another thyroid blood draw, hoping something would come up to explain this terrifying depression. Did not leave the house for the rest of the day.

Friday, August 6 - Mid-cycle pain for much of the day. Game night that night with friends. Promised everyone I would not get drunk, and proceeded to get MOTHERFUCKING drunk. The night ended in puke and tears. Guilt over that drove me further into depression.

Saturday, August 7 - Spent the day hungover, in an Ativan haze, and sobbing for part of the day. Decided to pick my personality apart and kick out the Bad Ztepf. Found out B’s dad had also spent the night puking, and was in the hospital with complications due to a bad virus and his diabetes throwing his blood sugar up near 500. Spent the day waiting for each next call from dad’s wife.

Sunday, August 8 - Visited B’s dad in the hospital. Ate fast food and watched TV with B. I fell asleep on the couch, then woke up after midnight with a real, actual hot flash. I tore off my blanket, socks and hoodie and ran around on the cool bare wood floor for a few minutes, then dove into the cool sheets of the bed and fell back to sleep.

Monday, August 9 - Was awakened before 9am from a company called Magellan, who told me I cannot see the psychologist my local doctor wants me to see, because he’s not in-network. I said he’s listed on the Aetna website. Magellan had to explain to me that my husband’s company has Aetna for health care, and Magellan for mental health care. I replied that I have access to all the mental health stuff on the Aetna website, which is confusing. I expressed distrust for these Magellan people. They told me not only could I not see the dude I was referred to, but the UCSF pain management psychologist I’ve seen twice and have paid co-payments to is ALSO not on the Magellan network, and so I OWE money to Magellan and/or UCSF.

This was first thing in the morning. This was hitting my financial panic trigger. I broke down in tears immediately and spent the rest of the morning curled up on the floor at the end of the bed, sobbing and becoming suicidal.

B was working from home that day, and did not want to leave me alone, so gently insisted that I come with him to visit B’s dad in the hospital again. We went around 1pm I think.

After that, I sobbed for most of the day - part of it was worry for B’s dad, most of it was continued WTF IS WRONG WITH MY BRAIN crying. Took a total of 3mg Ativan. Suicidal ideation turned into mania and I moved more furniture and stuff around in the house. Then I started updating my will, which didn’t last long and turned into making a list to give everything away so I could run away and start over, which turned to kicking out Bad Ztepf and crying over her departure. Wow, what a headspace….

And today…

Tuesday, August 10 - I woke to find that my male cat had once again shown his displeasure with me moving HIS stuff around in HIS house. He scooted his poopy butt all over the computer room floor, leaving two shit kibbles on the floor, and then he’d hopped up on top of my desk and left a big shit kibble on my desk.

Despite my goddamned cat, I was feeling a little better - I had gotten up early to go to the psychologist appointment that Magellan did not want me to go to, but that B insisted I go to. The dude called last minute and said he’d double-booked, could I show up at 3pm instead? Sure. I needed to clean up after the damned cat, anyway.

I was just about to leave the house to run some errands, when Magellan called again.
Magellan told me again not to see this psychologist, that he’s not covered, that I will owe money, etc and so forth. They also said they checked, and for sure I owe money to them and to UCSF for daring having seen a pain management psychologist such as is listed on the Aetna website.
I yelled obscenities and broke down in tears immediately. I told them to where to go, how to go there, and said all sorts of things. I told them they were ruining my life. The woman reacted by threatening to send a squad car over and lock me up on 5150. I told her my husband was home and taking care of me, and that yesterday he’d lodged a complaint against Magellan.
I dictated to this woman that Magellan, the company B works for, and Aetna needs to get their collective asses together and communicate effectively to their employees and patients, because this is UNACCEPTABLE.
I spent the rest of the morning sobbing uncontrollably.

I went to the banned psychologist at 3pm - I went on my own despite B offering to go with me. I wanted to assert some form of independence and stability in all of this. I made it to the appointment on time, met the guy, and …

Turns out he’s a spaz, and drops the F-bomb a lot, and swears in general (mental patient swearing okay, mental health professional swearing - NOT OKAY - just so we’re clear). At several points he got the gist of my mental state WRONG. At one point he tried summing up the mess I’ve gotten my brain into, and said, and I quote, “WOW, YOU’RE FUCKED!”

And lastly, while I was encouraged to talk about my family and was describing my relationship with my parents and sibling, the shrink interrupted out of the blue to panic about how he will be paid for this session, since he’s not in-network, and wow, with all these triggers and emotional fucked-upness, I will likely be REALLY mad at HIM and will hold shit against HIM, THE SHRINK, if he charges me the full amount, but he HAS to be paid you see….etc etc.

I broke down in tears to explain to him that I thought he was on my side, he was referred by someone I trust and like - that being my local doctor. And therefore I trust HIM and therefore I won’t be upset with HIM and I KNOW he has to be paid. I promised him my husband would call him tomorrow and suss out the payment. I left confused, because the shrink had said repeatedly before the appointment not to worry about payment on the first visit, that he could bill me, and we’d work out out with the insurance company.

I got home, cried a bit more, told my husband all the gory details about this shrink, and we agreed HE’S fucked in the head, and that I won’t be seeing him again. But now guess what, we owe $130 for that visit, which we have to file a form with Magellan for, to hopefully be reimbursed at 70%. So, more money woes.

My husband went off to band practice tonight, which was BAD (i’ll let him tell you about it), and when he got home, his dad’s wife called to say that Kaiser caused his father to have a heart attack by giving him potassium in his IV, and now his heart is damaged, and they don’t know how badly.

I had just stressed on Sunday over them fucking up his heart, because they wanted to give him a CT scan with contrast (dye), which carries serious risk to damaging the heart in sick and at risk patients. It wasn’t the CT scan that did it, though. They were giving him his dialysis and decided he should for some reason have potassium added in, when he wasn’t supposed to.

KAISER ALMOST KILLED MY FATHER-IN-LAW.
Thankfully his wife has been keeping copious notes, and will be filing a complaint, if not a lawsuit.

Motherfuckers.

In closing, I’d like to say I have only had 1mg Ativan today. I’m taking one more right now before I go to bed.

My husband is worse for the wear, now. He’s been hitting the bottle(s). I am letting him. He’s also taking a mental health day from work tomorrow, or at the very least, working from home again.

I pray to [insert deity here] that I am emotionally stable tomorrow. I haven’t done homework in what, four days? And my husband is the one who needs me to be emotionally sound, right now.

On Saturday while my husband B was sleeping in, his father’s wife (R) called to say that B’s dad was in the hospital. Dad’s blood sugar was up near 500 and he’d spent the previous night puking up brown fluid.

B’s dad has end stage renal failure due to unmanaged diabetes, and he performs peritoneal dialysis at home on his own every night at bedtime.

We spent Saturday talking to R every couple of hours to find out what hospital he’d be transfered from, what his current state was, etc.

This morning we got word from R that B’s dad was at Hayward Kaiser, in the Transitional Care Unit (TCU), so we went to visit him. By the time we got there, he’d been given morphine and was sleeping. He was in a special room which had some kind of oxygen warning above the door, and we had to wash our hands, wear disposable gowns, and disposable gloves while we went in to see him. B had to also wear a mask, because he’s got a cough.

We talked with R for a few minutes, then sat down while she left to go hang out in the lobby. B’s dad woke, and they talked for awhile, while I sat quietly in the corner. It was really hard for B to see his dad like this.

Dad’s blood sugar stabilised, and was in the 130-range, which was excellent, but the doctors think he has gallstones. He was in a lot of pain when a nurse came in and felt on his abdomen. She said they were ordering an ultrasound and might need to do a CT scan, but the doctors were quibbling over the use of contrast (dye). I asked if they use gadolinium - the nurse said no. Well that’s good at least…there’s a lot of risks and side effects with that crap.

Apparently Dad was sick for a week prior to hospitalisation. He had a bad sore throat and a cough and generally felt like crap. He stopped eating as regularly, and wasn’t giving himself enough fluid intake. His wife tried to get him to eat and drink, but he was his usual verbally combative self when it comes to being told what to do. This man is only 66 years old, but he’s acting at once like a baby and a 90-year-old.

The out of control puking began Friday night, and R spent hours on the phone trying to reach the right on call people for help, before taking him to emergency. Dad had missed at least one dialysis run, and that’s not good.

Early Saturday, they were at Fremont Kaiser, which had no ability to tend to dialysis patients, so they arranged for a transfer. By Saturday afternoon, he was transferred to Hayward Kaiser’s TCU ward, and that’s where he’s still at.

There’s a lot of heavy stuff transpiring between Dad and his wife. I told R she needs to have the hard talk with Dad - does he just want to die, does he want Rose to be a mother role, what the hell does he want, etc.
They have no directives, have not discussed power of attorney, and worst of all, R said Dad is still convinced that he will be put on a donor list to get some nice, shiny new kidneys. R said Dad HAS to know that he’s not even a candidate. He has been diabetic for over 20 years and has never once taken good care to manage the illness. Not only that, but his health insurance is Kaiser. The upper limit for some hospitals providing transplants is age 70, according to R, and in any case, there is a complete review of patient’s medical history and other illnesses and lifestyle before one is considered a candidate for kidney transplant. R is not confident that Dad will get the shiny new kidneys he’s after.
Neither are we.

Later, after we’d left the hospital, R called again to say that they had given Dad an ultrasound, and now wanted to do the CT Scan. My husband did not ask if contrast was part of the plan. When he hung up with R, I told him that the reason the doctors were quibbling over whether or not to use contrast, is that in a very ill renal patient, it can cause heart attack. I think B was just shut down emotionally at this point, because he didn’t call R back. She hasn’t called us back, either.

Thankfully, B is working from home tomorrow, so he’s gonna try to go visit his dad in the hospital for a bit.

Please send your good thoughts and wishes to B’s dad.

The doctor gave me a good supply of 1mg Ativan, not Xanax.
Whatev, they’re both benzodiazepines.

I spent all night Thursday on Ativan, but didn’t take any on Friday. It felt like the head weasels were beginning to clear. Friday night was game night with The Dammits, and I decided I needed a break from all the stress. I told myself I would have a drink with everyone else.

Well, many of you know how that goes - and once again I proved everyone right - that I dive in and go right straight out to the deep end of the lagoon without a life jacket. I remembered everything in the moment, all night. I remember suddenly feeling sick, and just getting up without a word and leaving the house. My reasoning was that I didn’t want to wake the toddler by yacking in the bathroom near his bedroom, so I ran out the front door and down the nearest side street to puke in the gutter. Go me!
Because I didn’t tell people where I was going, and I think my phone was in my purse, in the house, I didn’t realise people would be looking for me. Ensue guilt, ensue embarrassment, ensue sobbing, ensue babbling, etc, etc.

Everyone was very good to me that night. I even remember babbling at a friend as my husband drove him home.
Of course, by the time I got home and hopped into bed, I forgot all verbalisation that had transpired; I just had the raw emotion of it all.

I spent Saturday hungover as hell. So did everyone who’d been at game night. I ate some more Ativan to get through the head weasels. I did not do any homework on Saturday.

While B was sleeping in, his father’s wife (R) called to say that B’s dad was in the hospital. His blood sugar was up near 500 and he’d spent the previous night puking up brown fluid. We spent Saturday talking to R every couple of hours to find out what hospital he’d be transfered from, what his current state was, etc.

I fell asleep on the couch, and sometime after midnight had what can only be described as a hot flash. I sat bolt upright on the couch and tore off my socks and hoodie, ran around barefoot on the cool floor, then landed face down on the cool sheets of our bed.

Today we spent part of the day at the hospital, and spent the evening reconfiguring the network in the computer room. I had a much better day, emotionally. I nearly had a panic attack at the hospital when I worried about my car being towed from a 2-hour-only parking spot which did NOT specify ‘except sundays’…and when I went to find my car, I didn’t know exactly how to get to it from the exit I took out of the hospital…but I calmed myself down and found it.
While configuring the network, my computer decided it did not want to boot back up again. I have some of it backed up to an external drive, but not all of it. So that put me over my stress load for the day, and the mania and externalised babble set back in again. I began moving heavy furniture on my own. I stopped being verbal and just set about CLEANING.
Finally I just STOPPED and REALISED what was going on, and told B that it was time to take my medication, because the mania was ramping me way up, and at 9pm I was supposed to start winding down.

Now I am on 2mg Ativan because 1mg did not do shit for me even at the hour mark.

On Monday I need to get back to homework again, and suss out the insurance crap so that I can see two psychologists - one for pain management twice a month, and one for mental health twice a WEEK.
It’s very important for me right now. If the insurance denies me, I will be worse off.

Stay tuned.