Shit.

Aug. 15th, 2009 10:53 pm
azdesertrose: (Default)
My mobile phone went off at about 3:45 this morning; it was Mini-me's ring tone. I picked up my phone thinking, "Why in the hell is my spawn calling me at this hour?"

She was calling me from the ER at Baptist. My stepdad had to rush my mom to the ER around midnight due to chest pains. Mom apparently has been having chest pains off and on for about a week, but had thought that it was just inflammation because she recently got over a bad cold. (The inflammation does tend to happen to her after a bad cold, so that's not completely crazy or stupid on Mom's part.) But then, last night, the pain got really bad, so my stepdad kicked Mini-me out of bed and they hauled ass to the hospital.

Apparently, at one point last night, Mom's heart stopped beating for about 20 seconds; Mini-me was actually there when it happened. She said the monitor started beeping, so she looked up at it and saw that the EKG graphic was damn near flat, the pulse rate was 0, and the pulse oxygen was 44 (pulse oxygen should be in the high 90s). She made a joke to Mom about having knocked the sensors loose or something and when Mom didn't respond, she looked. Mom's head had lolled to one side, her face was flushed, and her eyes were fixed and staring. When Mom came to, she was pale and sweaty and kind of out of it for a while.

The doctors really don't know what the hell is going on. All of the tests so far have come back normal, but the whole "heart stopped beating for 20 seconds" has us all pretty concerned. Mom seems to be feeling more or less okay, tired and dizzy, but not horrible.

I hauled ass up to the hospital last night (well, early this morning, really) and visited for a while, but decided that I'd probably better leave and let her rest, because being in the hospital is not particularly restful and she and I will inevitably run our mouths if we're within 10 feet of each other.

My uncle (Mom's brother) has come down from Charleston, and I'm going to go back up to the hospital tomorrow. I would have gone back this evening but with my uncle and stepdad and Mini-me there, I didn't want to add another person and tire her out even more.

Anyway, thoughts, prayers, healing energies, etc. toward my mom would be greatly appreciated.
azdesertrose: (Default)
Still worried about my suicidal friend. Had a long conversation with him last night, and I'm not worried that he's going to do it any time really soon, but if things don't get better for him and quick, I'll be using my disability back payments to attend his funeral, or visit his grave if I can't make it to the funeral. I can't seem to make him see that his problems do not mean he has to die to make things better and that his death will be a great loss. I tried. Believe me, I tried.

And I'm not going to stop trying.

Also worried about my meds. I only have about a week's worth of Invega left, and I owe my psyhchiatrist money, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to get more. And being off the Invega is BAD FOR ME. I have panic attacks, and within a few days the psychotic symptoms return, the hallucinations and paranoia and stuff. It really sucks. I think I'm going to start taking it every other day to stretch the meds out, because missing it for one day doesn't seem to hurt anything, but about three days and I'm a mess.

And as always, money is a stressor. Hopefully we'll be able with Cliff's next paycheck to pay what I owe my psychiatrist and I can get my meds. I don't know what I'm going to do if we can't. Stretched the grocery budget to its limits. Bleah.

Worry worry worry.
azdesertrose: (Default)
I really need to comb out and wash my hair, but I feel very lazy today. I don't want to do anything but sit in front of the computer and screw around.

Still sort of wondering when the Paxil is going to make me feel better. I'm still depressed.

Worrying over money will do that to me. And add to that the other shit I'm worried about (suicidal friend, meds, etc.) and it just doesn't make for a very happy me.

I did write my suicidal friend an email last night in which I tried to convince him that his problems are not the end of the world and that I love him (in a brother/sister way, not a sexual or romantic way, although he is quite good-looking) and don't want to lose him, especially over money, which is the main problem. I told him that I understand very well what a huge stress it can be to be broke, but it's not worth his life. He's too good to lose over fucking money.

I still feel lazy and lethargic. I am not inspired to do anything today.
azdesertrose: (Default)
1. Money. With Cliff losing the shift we're taking a hard hit, and I don't know if we can make it until my money comes through, provided SSA doesn't appeal the decision and delay things even more.

2. Mini-me. I'm scared to death that now that she's got her learner's permit she's going to have a seizure behind the wheel and die in a car crash. No parent wants to bury their child, and I love that kid more than anybody in the whole world.

3. A friend who shall remain nameless who has made statements to me that make me worry that he's suicidal. And there's nothing I can do. He's a long distance friend, so it's not like I can physically stop him.

4. Meds. I'm out of everything but my Klonopin now although when Cliff gets home with the car, I can go get 15 days worth of my Invega but that will be all I have. I don't know how I'm going to get more meds, and I get really bad when I'm off my Invega. The psychotic symptoms come back really badly and I can't get out of bed. Hopefully on Friday I can get my Paxil and BuSpar again.

I'm a nervous wreck and I'm trying to pretend that everything's okay. But I'm not okay.

Fuck.

Jul. 25th, 2008 04:46 pm
azdesertrose: (Default)
Dixie and Nancy have noticed that Cliff is working weird hours compared to what he was working on the shift. But he doesn't want to tell them he lost his shift, so I just had to tell Nancy to mind her own goddamn business.

This sucks so much. I can't stop smoking; it's the only thing that keeps me from taking a kitchen knife to my wrists. I'm so stressed and anxious.

I think I'm going to go take a Klonopin and have another cigarette and see if that helps any.

Gods this sucks.
azdesertrose: (Buggre Alle This)
A couple of days ago, there was a post in [livejournal.com profile] _survivors_ that had a very unpleasant last line. The way it was written (which may or may not have been the intended meaning), it said that "maybe [survivors] should have fought back or done something instead of crying."

I found that quite offensive, because of the sweeping generalization. It's one thing to say that you feel you should have tried to fight or should have done this or that or the other; I think pretty much all survivors (of whatever sort of trauma) second-guess their actions, later, in retrospect. But the way this was phrased, it was incredibly disrespectful, at least in my opinion. I posted a reply, as diplomatically as I could, sympathizing with the original poster's issues (of feeling physical pain for no reason that a doctor could explain), but suggesting that s/he label the cut more clearly because of the offensive statement, and explaining why I found the statement upsetting.

The post is no longer there; I don't know if the original poster deleted it on his/her own, the original poster deleted it at the request of [livejournal.com profile] sistahraven, or if [livejournal.com profile] sistahraven deleted it in her capacity as moderator. In any case, I have no intention of starting drama about it, which is why I'm grousing about this in my personal journal rather than taking it to the community.

I totally did not need that. I really didn't. I'm having enough trouble being in pain from my injured feet and my continuing female problems, having had to deal with that horrid doctor and the "just statutory rape" remark (which still pisses me off, nearly three months later), and being off my meds for another two weeks plus. Semi-good news on the med front: a friend of mine also takes Zoloft and may be able to spare me some. But that hasn't happened yet, and I'm still having the dizziness, headache, trouble falling asleep, and weird "zap" feelings if I move "wrong."

I'm also having weird, vivid dreams. My best friend is being handfasted next weekend; the rehearsal was yesterday. Last night I had a lot of bizarre dreams about the ceremony, including things that are extremely unlikely. I dreamt that my daughter was being an utter brat (which she generally is not), to the point of peeing her pants, once accidentally, and once on purpose, just to be defiant. In the dream, I was so angry at her that I slapped her across the face, so hard that she staggered back (something I would not do IRL). And all sorts of things were just going wrong; the torches fell to the ground and caused a huge fire, I fell and re-injured myself, Jen's dress tore, you name it. In the dream, if it could go wrong, it was going wrong.

I was cranky all day today. I think I didn't sleep well because of the weird dreams, and I spent more of today on my feet than I really should have.

I'm to be in the handfasting as one of Jen's attendants. We are to wear a white blouse (of which I have several) and a flowing black skirt. I didn't own a flowing black skirt; the only black skirt I owned when Jen told me this is a knee-length straight black skirt (very office-y). So I went shopping with my friend Tiff (who is another of Jen's attendants) and we found these cute little cotton crinkle-gauze skirts. The only problem was that they didn't have one in my size in black, but they had one in my size in dark brown. Okay, no trouble. I'll just buy the dark brown skirt and some black dye and dye the silly thing.

Except that dyeing the damn skirt was WAY more stress fuss and trouble than I'd anticipated.

I spent most of today in my bathroom dyeing the damn skirt. I didn't want to dye it in a washing machine, as laundromats don't like you to do that, and my mother would probably kill me if I dyed something BLACK in her machine. So I spent HOURS today bent over a big plastic bin full of hot water and black dye, agitating the skirt.

I just hope the dye took; if not, Jen's just going to have to take me in a dark brown skirt.

And I wound up having to fix supper AND Cliff's work lunch for tomorrow, because he was "busy" swearing at the computer and trying to play Warcrack. GRRRRR.

I really am ready to delete that goddamn game from this machine.

I shouldn't be standing up washing dishes and cooking with one broken foot and one sprained one. I've now been told by TWO doctors (the ER doc and the orthopedic guy) to stay the bloody hell off my right foot, but can I? Nooooooooo.

On his shift days, there's just no help for it. I'm home alone except for CC and Tessa (his dog and my new kitten), and so I have to get my own food and drink, but I stay on the couch or here at the computer as much as possible.

But on his days off, I shouldn't have to spend so damn much time in the kitchen.

Under normal circumstances (i.e. when I don't have two injured feet), I don't mind doing the cooking and cleaning and so forth. I'm not working, I have no income of my own, so it's not a big deal to me to take care of the house.

But damn it, right now, I am NOT SUPPOSED to be on my feet.

And that bloody fucking computer game is most of why I have to be on my feet on his days off. GRRRRR.

Oh, and I'm nervous about the handfasting. We ladies (Jen's attendants) are to call (and later, bid farewell to) the quarters, mainly because Rip's attendants are physically unable to do so, and for whatever reason, not as familiar with ritual. I'm to call and "dismiss" (I hate that term, but it's quick) Fire/South. This will be my first public ritual work. EEEEEEEEEK!!!!

Memorizing my lines isn't the hard part; I don't have that much to say, even with the ritual part. I'm just worried that I'll somehow screw up, having never performed even part of a ritual with an audience. (I've done private rituals, as in, JUST ME doing a ritual for my own purposes, usually to ask for help.)

I think I've rambled quite enough now. Tessa keeps trying to chase my rapidly-typing fingers.
azdesertrose: (Oh shit!)
They say that stopping a psychiatric medication suddenly is a bad idea.

This is why.

I stopped taking my Zoloft on Sunday because I ran out. I can't get any more medication until I can see my doctor on August 16. I tried to get her office to call me in a provisional prescription or something but they won't do it without seeing me.

So, ever since I had my breakdown a day or so ago, I've had a headache. Every time I stand I get dizzy and I just feel weird. I also have trouble falling asleep.

Yuck.

I just looked it up, and these are symptoms of withdrawal from Zoloft.

Joy.

And what do you want to bet that the withdrawal symptoms will subside just about the time I can see my new doctor? *eyeroll*

GRRRRR!!!
azdesertrose: (Default)
Still feeling really weird.

Still bleeding, although it seems to be letting up.

Slept almost all day. When I first woke up, Cliff wanted me to go into the living room and watch movies with him, but the living room was too bright and noisy for me.

I just wanted to stay in bed; he told me that staying in bed meant I was hiding and hiding isn't good for me. He stayed with me, and we both fell asleep for a few hours. When we woke up, I could deal with being in the living room. The sun had gone down, and it was no longer as noisy.

I don't feel well; my stomach is upset, and my female parts hurt (as do my feet, but the foot pain is not news).

And I bloody forgot to call the damn doctor's office. I need to call to see if I can get one of the other doctors in the new doctor's practice to write me a provisional script for my meds so I don't quit taking them. I can't see the new doctor herself until August 16 because she's out of the country.

I just feel weird and disconnected and anxious. I don't know exactly why.

I had bad dreams last night but I can't recall them very clearly. I wish this would just stop; I'm tired. I'm tired of being afraid and not knowing why.

I keep seeing dark things in my peripheral vision, and when I woke up the first time I heard Yoda say "Rest, yes rest. Forever sleep." (from his death scene in ROTJ) I don't want to move at all.

I still feel like I've expended all my coping abilities and that I'm not ever going to come out of this. I'm lost.

Oh shit

Jul. 16th, 2006 09:45 pm
azdesertrose: (Default)
This is not good.

I've had a lot of problems with my female parts, so much so that I probably cannot have any more children. (I don't want another child right now, but I'm not too happy at the thought that I probably can't have another baby even if I should end up in a situation that I wanted another baby. I suppose I don't like having the option taken from me.)

My normal menstrual cycle is quite heavy; I hit menarche at 12 years and one month (February 1988), and from that point on, I bled for seven or eight days a month, heavily, until I got pregnant with my daughter.

Mercifully, my pregnancy was medically uneventful (though the months of it were quite the opposite in other areas) and my daughter was and is a healthy kid, who herself hit menarche last summer, a few months before her 13th birthday.

From my daughter's conception until she was 10 months old, I didn't menstruate at all, most likely because I breastfed her.

During my divorce from her father (I left him when she was about 16 months old, and the divorce was finalized when she was about two and a half years old), my periods got weird. It was a stressful time, and it's not unusual for a woman's cycles to go crazy when she's under a lot of stress. I went on birth control pills for the first time around age 19, because my cycles were still crazy, even though the divorce drama was calming down.

I went off birth control pills three years later when I got to be too old to be on my parents' medical insurance and lost my insurance coverage.

About a year after that, I had to drop a semester of college because I bled heavily for a month and a half for no discernible reason. An endometrial biopsy was performed but reflected no problem. (It hurt like the very devil, though.)

I've been up and down with my cycles ever since; I had a colposcopy in my mid-twenties due to a slightly abnormal Pap, which transpired to be nothing. I've had a couple of doctors prescribe hormonal birth control to try to keep me from menstruating as frequently. My current gynecologist (whom I really like) has me on the Yasmin pill, which seems to agree with my system pretty well. I had been taking them like you "normally" do, three weeks of active pills and then one week of inactive pills, but in May, my doctor told me to take three packs of active pills without taking the week off, to try to reduce the frequency of my cycles.

For the last two years, my period has meant at least a week (sometimes as much as two weeks) curled up in pain. Before my doctor prescribed the birth control pills for me, I was bleeding for 8-9 days, and for four of those days, I was bleeding through a super-plus tampon in 2 to 2.5 hours. It sucked. Big time.

Oh, yeah, and last September, when I first saw my doctor, my Pap smear was unusable because my cervix bled when she touched it with the instrument. So I had to have another colposcopy last October. (OW!!!!) That colposcopy also turned up nothing of any great note.

I had to have a repeat Pap done in March. It was somewhat abnormal, but my doctor did not want me to freak out; she told me we'd repeat again in September, when I'm due for my annual again.

What has made me say "Oh shit" is that the last two times Cliff and I have had sex, I have bled afterwards.

I've been spotting anyway, probably due to the not-having-periods-since-May thing; I sort of expected to spot through this extended hormone dose.

But after we've had sex, I start BLEEDING. Like the first day of my period bleeding.

Hence, the "oh shit."

And I really can't afford to go see my gynecologist until September; I have to see the new psychiatrist in August, and bills have to be paid.

But I'm mentally a little panicky about this.
azdesertrose: (Default)
I'm still hobbling around because of my spectacular lack of gracefulness last week. (Reader's Digest condensed version, I stepped in a large pothole that I thought I had cleared and broke my right foot and sprained my left.)

Cliff's checking account is overdrawn and we're not too sure how that happened. The REALLY bad part of this is that we haven't bought groceries yet. I'm not sure what to buy because I can't buy what I normally buy because I can't be on my feet cooking, which is why I hadn't gone grocery shopping yet.

I'm all stressed out over the money, and I'm angry at myself for having hurt myself and caused all the inconvenience to everyone around me.

I finally bit the bullet today and took the first step of consulting a lawyer to see if I have a case against Cliff's landlord, for failing to repair the giant pothole in which I fell. I should think I'm at least entitled to compensation for my medical bills, and I'd like to see a judge order the landlord to repair the damn thing for good. (The landlord has made several half-assed attempts to fill in the hole but they never last more than a few weeks. What would probably repair it for good would be to resurface the parking area entirely.) It would be nice if I were entitled to compensation for "pain and suffering" because heaven knows this hurts like crazy. I haven't worked in over a year, so I wouldn't be entitled to compensation for lost wages.

I've calmed myself from how I felt earlier, but a few hours ago (before I ate and took my pain meds) I felt like everything that is wrong right now is my fault and that I should just die. I wanted at least to cut myself to punish myself for not being able to make things right.

I still have to try to find a new psychiatrist, and I probably can't see my counselor on Thursday (as currently planned) because of the money situation. I don't want to find a new psychiatrist; I know I need one, but I hate the process of finding one.

I'm going to eat some mac and cheese; maybe kiddo comfort food will help a little.

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