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Monthly Archives: June 2016

Good news, bad news

Which did ya want first?

Remember how I said that G-d didn’t want me to exercise? I’m pretty sure that was reiterated to me Tuesday night. How? Well, thanks for asking.

I decided that since I had trouble with the bike, and I was feeling somewhat better after a weekend of rest and antibiotics, that I would try the treadmill instead. I was going to start off easy, like with the bike, and just get on and go for a few minutes. As I’m walking, I feel my plantar faciitis flaring up but I try to ignore it. I knew it would be an issue. My knees, too, but I keep going for just the few minutes I wanted to accomplish. When I’m done, I’m a good girl and I go right into the shower to clean up and I climb into bed for my evening. About twenty minutes later, I’m sitting up in bed with my legs stretched out in front of me. I twist hard and far to the left with just my upper body, bend at the stomach, and reach for the outside of my ankle where it feels like something is biting me. I can’t find anything, so I start to straighten and zzzzzowie!

My stomach to the left of my belly button twists viciously, making it feel like my innards are being grabbed and twisted hard in opposite direction from my outer flesh. It’s, like, the worst pain I think I’ve had in recent (all?) memory. It feels like my stomach or my intestines or something got yanked and twisted around. And it scares the crap out of me. I get out of bed and try to stand, but I can hardly breathe I’m so terrified. And then it’s over in less than two minutes. And I’m standing next to the bed and I don’t know what to do. I know Hub is downstairs, but he’s busy recording a podcast for at least another twenty minutes. So I try to get back into bed carefully and I wait for him to alert me that he’s done. When he does, I ask him immediately to come upstairs and I try to explain what happened.

He looks mildly alarmed (and upset that I didn’t call him right away) and asks me if I want to go to the hospital or what. It’s now after eight p.m. and I know the ER is going to suck, as it always does. Hub suggests the walk-in clinic, which is close to the hospital, so if they can’t help me it’s a short ride to the ER. I call my dad and tell him Hub is going to bring the dogs over in case we get stuck out for hours at the clinic or ER. I don’t really like leaving the dogs over there now that Mom is gone, because Butthead eats stuff in their yard and then pukes it up (either there or here) since her stomach is so sensitive. No matter how many times I tell my dad and brother about it, they don’t seem to take us seriously. Anyway, I get dressed, then meet Hub downstairs and we go out to the car.

The walk-in clinic is not too busy and they basically take me back in about five minutes after checking in. The medical assistant asks what’s going on, then says something to the effect of, “Gee, I hope your intestines didn’t get all twisted up, because that can happen!” in a kind of chipper voice. I wanted to punch him in the throat. Hub says, “Uh, hey, guy, she kind of has anxiety issues, so let’s not just throw random theories out there if you don’t mind.” The medical assistant nodded and smiled, then left the room. From there, despite the lack of patients, it takes over an hour for the doctor to come in to see us. She asks for bloodwork, pee, and an xray. Says she doesn’t know what it is. It doesn’t feel like anything is twisted when she does a physical exam.

I take care of the pee, the phlebotomist comes in to take my blood (Hub leaves the room, ha!), then we sit and wait (me in a gown and my underwear!) to be taken for an xray. The staff seems pretty nice, but slow-as-molasses. It’s already after 10pm, which is their closing time, and we’re basically still waiting for xray. They finally take me in, do the xrays, and we’re back in the exam room while the staff is cleaning and closing up around us. FINALLY the doctor comes in and announces “KIDNEY STONE!”

What-the-ever-loving-fuck?

So she tells me it’s going to be excruciating pain passing a stone, but that it’s already in my ureter and down partway, smallish in size, and hey, it might pass without any pain, but not likely. So you want vicodin or what? I say, in a small voice, I can’t do vicodin as it makes me nauseated and dizzy. She offers me tylenol with codeine instead and I take it. I ask how long to pass the stone and she says “Oh it’ll be gone by morning. Drink a lot…a LOT of water and be prepared to take the pain killers. Seriously, keep them right next to your bed and be ready to pop them.” We wait around another twenty minutes for xray films on cd, which I’m supposed to take to the urologist as soon as possible. We finally leave and get home, and Hub goes to retrieve the dogs. I shuffle to bed and spend the next three hours pounding down bottles of water as fast as I can, hoping to push the stone through. I also go looking for information on kidney stones (I know, it was dumb) and find that those who get stones (“stoners”) will likely continue to get them for the rest of their lives. Of course, my father informs me he had one once, but only one. So maybe I’ll be lucky like that. Or not. Who the hell knows.

I stay up until after 2am, peeing into a strainer they gave me trying to catch the stone so the doctor can have it analyzed and see how to change my diet to not get any more. Peeing into a strainer is awkward, ya’ll. And uncomfortable. And all the while I’m just WAITING for the excruciating pain. It’s coming at some point, and I am terrified. People say it’s the worst pain they’ve ever felt. Worse than labor without pain medication. Brings big strong men to their knees wailing like children. I put the trashcan right next to my bedside because vomiting is highly likely they say. I take off my necklace that I wear all the time so it doesn’t get in the way if I have to bend over to vomit into the can. I leave my hair tied back for the same reason. At about 2:30am, I give up and try to sleep, but lying down makes me feel nauseated (another symptom of stones!), so I prop myself upright and doze off.

At eight a.m. I wake up and call the urology office to make an appointment. They can’t see me until Thursday afternoon (it’s now Wednesday 8am). I ask the person on the phone what to do until then. She says “did they give you medication?” and I said just the pain pills. She asked about the strainer, I said yes. So she says she’ll see us Thursday. Uh, okay, thanks. I spend the entire day in bed, exhausted from the fear and the anxiety and the kidney stone. On and off I’m sure I feel the radiating “flank” pain they were talking about, but it’s mild. My back aches (another symptom!) but it, too, isn’t much worse than normal for me. Hub is taking care of me, making sure I’m still drinking a lot, and making sure I try to eat something. He’s working from home and spends most of the day in the bedroom on his work laptop so I’m not alone.

Still no hellish pain, so I go to sleep sitting up again Wednesday night, but middle of the night I toss the pillows and lie down. I sleep until Hub wakes me to say good bye…he has to be in the office for a few hours before my appointment. I spend most of the morning reading kidney stone stories on reddit, still waiting for the other shoe to drop (the horrendous pain) and wondering why the hell the stone hasn’t passed into my strainer and why I’m not having to pop pain pills like everyone else.

FINALLY we go to the doctor. They make me fill out stuff on a computer thingy even though I filled everything out online at home the night before. They give me a cup and I go pee, for the first time in over 40 hours, I’m not peeing through a strainer. Yay. Then back into the waiting room, where we sat for over 40 minutes until the nurse calls me back. She’s nice, we joke a little, she asks what we’re in for. When I say kidney stone, she cringes and says, “Ugh.” But tells me the doctor will be in shortly, then leaves my xray up on the computer screen for the doctor to see.

Luckily, the doctor comes in shortly thereafter and we go over why I’m there and how I was diagnosed. Then she sits at the computer and looks at the screen and frowns. Then makes a face. She asks again what happened to lead me to the walk-in clinic. She asks again about pain, nausea, backaches, fever, vomiting…none of which I really had in any major way, except for the initial “short” incident. Then she says… “it’s not a stone.”

WHAT??

She says, “Clinically speaking, if you had a stone in your ureter like they thought you did, you’d be on the floor crying and in pain.” And that I’d have been in pain the whole time, basically, even though it might have come and gone in waves. She tells me the spot is a calcification in a pelvic vein called PHLEBOLITHS. I ask her to please repeat that and she does (I still don’t get it but I look it up when I get home…of course), then she says it’s benign, nothing to be concerned about, comes with aging.

What is the meaning of PHLEBOLITHS are noted in pelvis?
A phlebolith is a small local, usually rounded, calcification within a vein. These are very common in the veins of the lower part of the pelvis, and they are generally of no clinical importance. When located in the pelvis they are sometimes difficult to differentiate from kidney stones in the ureters on X-ray.

Good news, no kidney stone. Bad news, I just spent the last 48 hours freaking out over nothing. Oh. My. Gawd.

We still don’t know what the initial pain was from. It was terrifying. She says she wants to get a ct scan to make sure nothing else is going on, just out of an abundance of caution. I tell her I have to get a ct scan for my 1 year post-cancer check next month, and can I combine the two so I don’t have to do two separate scans. She says “sure” and says to check with my gyn oncologist to get what he needs. She prints my referral for the scan and walks me out. She tells me to come back if I start feeling poorly, otherwise she’ll wait to see the scans.

It’s possible the horrifying pain was from a muscle cramp (in a weird fucking place), but I’ve NEVER felt anything like that before in my life. I just don’t know, and won’t know if anything else is going on until after the scan. I’m waiting to hear from my gyn oncologist to see if I can go ahead with the scan now, instead of waiting for the appointment next month.

Stupid treadmill.

 

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Probably TMI for most

Well, I won’t go into all kinds of details, but still, you’re forewarned.

I was talking about some anxiety in my last post. Here’s what is going on. I’ve been doing hypnotherapy during a few of my regular therapy sessions with T in order to work on my cardiophobia. We’ve actually been working both with CBT and hypnotherapy for my fear of exercise. Part of my fear is because of my heart, but part of my fear is also putting myself in more pain than my daily dose…on purpose. I’m in pain pretty much most days, but exercising means I’ll be suffering more pain because of strained muscles and such.

So part of my therapy is to exercise. Shocking, I know. We have both a treadmill and a recumbent bike in our house (the treadmill is like…oh, 15 years old, but it still works!), so I have options on what I can do for exercise with machines. The bike is newer than the treadmill and it has those little dohickies on the handles that measure heart rate, which is a no-no for me. Just watching the heart rate go up is an anxiety trigger. So many people say exercise helps their anxiety, but it’s actually a major trigger for me. I started riding the bike (I figured it was lower impact on my arthritic knees than the treadmill) every night, with the intention that I was riding it to work on my fears, not on my weight loss. It gave me permission to see the exercise as something different…not to be perfect at it, not to think that if I only ride it a few minutes every night that it was a failure because a few minutes is a waste in the weight loss world. No, it’s part of my therapy, part of my recovery, and even sitting on the damn machine is an accomplishment.

I started slow with the bike, literally and figuratively. And I met my first goal of riding the bike three days in a week…and then I just kept going. I’ve been able to increase by one minute since I started. I’ve learned not to put my hands on the heart rate dohickies…and if it is too tempting, I’m going to put socks over the handles to make them not work. I listen to a little music, I play a game or two on the iPad if I have it. I go in, I get on, I ride, I leave, I recognize the accomplishment of what I’ve done. I went ten days. Some of the days I could have talked myself out of it (the a/c upstairs died again…my knee hurt, I had another owie which I’ll explain shortly) but I didn’t talk myself out of it. My mental recovery seems to be so much easier for me to work on than my physical. I haven’t really ruminated on that very much, but I suspect that is coming in therapy soon.

Monday night I went to shower and I realize there is a redness under my right boob. I’m endowed and…droopy. I’ve been that way all of my adult life, I’ve never gotten a heat rash or sweat rash under my boobs before (I am wondering if this is because of the surgical menopause and hormone issues). I don’t sweat like normal people. My first thought was oh shit it’s breast cancer because it was only under one boob and I know that there are some breast cancers that present that way. I managed to convince myself it wasn’t cancer even before the redness showed up under my other boob. At that point I was pretty well sure it was a heat rash (or sweat rash) from riding on the bike. So now I’ve got knee pain, foot pain (stupid plantar faciitis) and underboobs rashes. *sigh* I go buy these things that go under the boobies that is supposed to help wick away sweat. The are uncomfortable and weird and they move around. Joy. I also buy some tea tree oil and a powder for rashes and fungus, in case it’s a yeast fungus under there. The under-boobie wicky thing seems to help but not make it go away altogether yet.

Wednesday night I’m on the bike again (I’ve even been able to ride when I’m home alone, which is a big deal for me because if I have a heart attack on the bike…and I’m alone… shudder) and I’m like what is that pain? It’s in the crease of my left leg where it meets my groin. And I’m thinking it’s another damn heat rash. Great. I put some gauze in the crease and try to deal with it for overnight. Next day, I put another clean bit of gauze there to keep the area from rubbing and getting worse and I go about my day. I get on the bike again last night and I’m like … unh, that hurts. I finish my predetermined ride and go shower and suddenly I’m realizing it’s not the heat rash in the crease of my leg that was hurting. I have a cyst…my guess is an infected cyst (I get sebaceous cysts under my arms sometimes, but not for a while) or it could be an ingrown hair. It’s, uh, down there. Ya’ll ladies know what I mean. It’s in an unfortunate place, making sitting, standing, walking, lying down all very very uncomfortable. Dammit.

I tell Hub about the issue (he looks somewhat horrified), I go to sleep and wake up this morning first thing to call my doctor’s office. I don’t want to mess around with this area, so I beg them to fit me in today. They do and I go see one of the other doctor’s in the practice. She says “abscess” but won’t otherwise identify if it’s from a cyst or an ingrown hair. She doesn’t want to do anything with it but suggests I see my gyno to see if they want to drain it or what. I tell her my gyno is an hour away and not likely to be able to fit me in today, so she suggests I see the gyno in their extended practice and she goes to make an appointment for me. When she comes back, she tells me I’ll be seeing the nurse practitioner that afternoon, and oh by the way here is a prescription for bactrum (antibiotics). Oh how I love pills. And ABs are my favorite.

I go back later to see the NP, who tells me she can’t drain cysts and all the doctors are booked. But she graciously offers to do a lookie loo to see if the cyst actually needs to be drained. She measures it and says it doesn’t look too big, but writes down the info for future reference in case I come back with an issue next week. “Good news!” she chirps. “I wouldn’t drain this. It’ll drain on its own. Take your ABs and use warm compresses and a sitz bath as often as you can manage.” We talk about timing for when the pain will abate and what to expect from the “draining” and I go home.

The first time I saw the cyst last night, it was white. By the time I got home and everyone was done poking at it, it was a purple-red. Yay. (I told you, TMI.) Upon getting my ABs, I come home and go look up my blog post from when I had to take these particular ABs, and I apparently have nausea, bad taste in my mouth, and dry mouth (editing to add, and dry/itchy eyes near to the end of the course of ABs) to look forward to for ten days at least. Two pills a day over ten days. The NP told me to be happy, the other option is something like 4 pills a day over 20 days or something ridiculous. But at least I have experience with this AB, so maybe I’ll be okay with taking it more easily. (Prolly not, but one can hope.)

This is what I get for exercising? One time I went to vacuum my bedroom…I plugged in the vacuum and 10 seconds later the circuit blew. I reset it, plugged the vacuum into a different outlet across the large room and 10 seconds later another circuit blew. I reset it, used a plug in the upstairs hallway and THAT one blew. I decided at that moment that G-d did not want me to vacuum. I wrapped up the cord and put the vacuum away. So, is this what I’m getting about exercising? Multiple messages saying “don’t do it!” Well, another conversation for therapy, I guess.

Also, ow ow ow ow. 😦

 

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Wordless Tuesday (pic heavy)

Wordless Tuesday (pic heavy)

I’m having some anxiety. I’m not sure I’m going to write about it…it might be TMI for some people. So for the moment… (picture heavy, sorry), enjoy Butthead’s delight with her new favorite stick.

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Posted by on June 21, 2016 in anxiety, Butthead, dogs

 

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I’m SO over it

Father’s day is Sunday. It’s now Friday. I started asking about Father’s day plans of my two local brothers about three weeks ago. I got no response, so I pushed the subject again last Friday.

Background… Hub and I usually do Mother’s day here at our house for his and my mothers and for all our local siblings. We generally do brunch, because that’s what our moms like to eat. For Father’s day, we usually go out because my Dad likes to eat foods we don’t usually cook at home. It’s generally my married brother’s job to arrange Father’s day because Hub and I do so much for Mother’s day.

I eat gluten free. My married brother’s wife has a lot of food issues, in that she eats nothing. I have no idea how she maintains her weight, but she eats nothing. She’s allergic to olive oil, and in the past couple of years she says she’s not eating meat…well, except for hot dogs and chicken. And she doesn’t eat fish. And she doesn’t eat most vegetables. For those still paying attention, 90% of pasta (which is something she’ll eat) or pizza (another thing she’ll eat) is made with olive oil when it’s mass produced.

So I started pushing my brother about Father’s day. He spent Saturday  morning with my father but “forgot” to ask what he wanted to do about Father’s day, considering we’re all still struggling with the loss of my mother. When he finally asked Monday night by phone, my father said, “Whatever you kids want to do. I’d prefer to eat out, but we can eat at home, too.” (Btw, eat at home means Hub and I cook, because my married brother and his wife a) don’t cook and b) never have us over to their house. One time in the 10 years they’ve lived there we ate there, but MY husband grilled the food. And the rest of us prepared it in their kitchen once we arrived.)

So now it’s Tuesday and we’re chatting online about where to go for Father’s day. Lots of places around here are going to be mobbed, but even worse, my SIL doesn’t eat anything. So there are few places they go out to eat, even though they eat out more than they eat at home. We ran through a bunch of places, but most of them either have nothing for me to eat or nothing for her to eat. So I suggest a local diner, which has a MASSIVE menu. My brother says he’ll check with his wife. This is Tuesday after lunchtime. Wednesday at lunch, I email him to ask what the answer is about the diner, because if it’s not the diner, we have to figure something else out. And if the answer is eat at home (which my dad doesn’t REALLY want to do), then I need to plan and get out and buy food. Which I TELL him in the email.

NOW it’s Friday morning and I get an email from my brother saying his wife has “tried” the diner with a friend and it made her sick. So that’s out. And it’s FRIDAY MORNING and now what?

I seriously wrote like four emails, and attempted to write four different messages in chat, and I sent none of them. I’m so angry that when I got dressed this morning (after reading the email) I forgot I put on deodorant and I put it on again. I’m so angry that when I come downstairs and tell Hub what’s going on, I end up crying. I’m SO ANGRY that I finally tell my brothers to do whatever, that I’ll eat NOTHING at the restaurant because this is FATHER’S day and Dad should eat food he likes. (Do you think my SIL offers the same? No. And as for more background, at least 50% of the time she is supposed to do something with us, she doesn’t show up because she’s “not feeling well”. So we go through all this shit about what she can or will eat and then she doesn’t bother to show up…)

So my married brother suggests a burger place. Which I am just flummoxed by, because we could make fucking hamburgers at home (which we did three weeks ago for Memorial day when the my aunt and uncle came to join us). My father likes seafood and pork and bacon and sausages…stuff he doesn’t eat at home. So my married brother says, “why don’t we just get together and eat dessert?” My father doesn’t eat dessert. He likes to binge on fatty fried fun foods, not dessert. Where has my brother been? Does he not KNOW my father? No, the answer is, he’s thinking what is easiest for him, not what my father wants or likes. My married brother suggests we go out early Saturday evening to avoid crowds, despite the fact that I told him that Hub has to work Saturday afternoon. Because it’s all about him and his wife and her issues, not anyone else.

It’s now closing in on noon and we’re no closer to an answer. No one is saying anything anymore. I’ve already told Hub that if this keeps up, he and I are going to get barbecue take-out with all kinds of food that Dad likes, and bring it over to his house Sunday for dinner. And screw the rest of them who don’t like or can’t eat that food. Because I’m so over this. Why am I bending myself into a pretzel for them when it’s supposed to be about my father?

SO OVER IT.

 

 
 

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Cardiophobia

cardiophobia

Cardiophobia is defined as an anxiety disorder of persons characterized by repeated complaints of chest pain, heart palpitations, and other somatic sensations accompanied by fears of having a heart attack and of dying. Persons with cardiophobia focus attention on their heart when experiencing stress and arousal, perceive its function in a phobic manner, and continue to believe that they suffer from an organic heart problem despite repeated negative medical tests. In order to reduce anxiety, they seek continuous reassurance, make excessive use of medical facilities, and avoid activities believed to elicit symptoms. The relationship of cardiophobia to illness phobia, health anxiety, and panic disorder is discussed.

I had no idea. Did you even know this was a thing?? (edited to add that personally, I don’t actually make “excessive” use of medical facilities…but I do think about how often I go to the doctor and I think about how it would be to go to the doctor every time I felt health or heart anxiety)

I did a bad thing and I googled something semi-medical. I googled “I am afraid of exercise.” And lo and behold, there are people out there just like me, who are afraid of exercising because of cardiophobia. There are other reasons for fearing exercise, but I was mostly focused on the cardiophobia because that’s my issue. Cardiophobia is the main culprit of my health anxiety, although these days I do have some mild cancer recurrence fears, too. By the way, I survived my google espisode and I REALLY only looked at cardiophobia postings…I did not stray or fall down any medical google rabbit holes. Go me.

I had my appointment with my cardiologist this morning. I have mentioned this before, I believe, but I like this man because he’s non-judgemental about my weight and talks bluntly yet kindly when we meet. He listens to what I’m saying before starting in on any exam. He even listened to me when I said I was afraid to exercise because of my heart, and that I was working on it in therapy. He did an EKG which came out fine, then said we hadn’t done a stress test in many years (not since I first saw him probably in 2012 or 2011)…and he said we could do it right away if I was amenable. I said yes, of course, because no time like the present. The stress test was with an EKG and blood pressure cuff hooked up to me, but no echocardiogram like Hub had a week or two ago. The nurse said they only do echocardiograms when there’s a potential structural defect, which the doctor was not concerned about.

The stress test was hard for me. At one point, the BP cuff was so tight (I hate when it starts to tighten, stops, then starts again like it’s starting over…) that my entire right arm from cuff down to my fingers was beet red. I told the tech that the cuff was way tight and she reset it. But those stress tests make you go fast and at an incline on the treadmill and that’s hard. It was already hot in the room and I’m pretty heat intolerant. When they went from high speed and full incline to cool down, I got woozy and I told them. The nurse said that happens and it’ll go away, which is kind of did. Except for the fact that I am having a lot of imbalance issues (like being on a boat rocking up and down) these days, so it didn’t fully go away.

They unhooked me and gave me a cup of water, then the nurse left to consult with the doctor. When she came back, she said they saw no blockages and no abnormalities on the test results, so I was free to go home. Hub was waiting in the waiting room and he helped me out to the car because I still felt overheated and wobbly.

Do I feel better? I’m not entirely sure. But at the very least, when I go in to see T on Friday and we start working on my specific health and exercise anxiety, at least I can say that I was cleared by the cardiologist. Unfortunately, I’m dealing with heartburn again, which had mostly been under control up until about two weeks ago (a lot of this pain is probably the heartburn crap, which I think started out “silently” and is now just getting worse and worse. I’m going to get back onto my digestive enzyme regimen, with the exception of having to find a new digestive enzyme pill because the previous stuff I was using had to be purchased through a practitioner and the nutritionist I was seeing for it refuses to respond to any of my inquiries. I think she’s pissed that I stopped coming in for appointments.

Anyhoo, I’m cleared by the cardiologist. I go in to see T on Friday for hypnotherapy and Neuro-Linguistic Programming. NLP’s creators claim a connection between the neurological processes (neuro-), language (linguistic) and behavioral patterns learned through experience (programming), and that these can be changed to achieve specific goals in life. Apparently NLP is something that hypnotherapists can try to use to help along with the hypnosis. I don’t know squat about it, but we’ll see how things go.

I’ve already had one hypnotherapy session, just an induction where she wanted to see if I could go into a hypnotic state. We tried again on the last session, but I was so mired in grief that I basically burst into tears mid-hypnosis and that was the end of that.

I’ll talk about hypnotherapy in another post soon.

Hub and I started and stopped acupuncture, but are planning to start it again because we both felt it was somewhat helpful for certain issues. We were supposed to start again this week, but my cardiology appointment screwed that up. Hopefully next week.

There’s today’s update.

 

 

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Liar liar brain on fire

I’ve been struggling with my health anxiety for over a week. As per usual, it’s pretty centered around my heart. I’ve made an appointment to see my cardiologist, but the online scheduler only had an appointment for NEXT Monday. I’m going to call in the morning to see if they have anything sooner, whether it’s a cancellation or what. If they can’t fit me in sooner, I might also check with my regular doctor–but getting in to see them is pretty difficult these days.

I keep trying to tell myself that if I’m still alive after this week of potential heart pain, then it’s likely just anxiety plaguing me and not a “real” issue. It’s my anxiety lying to me. My left arm hurts, my back hurts, my jaw hurts, I feel slightly off-balance, I’m nauseated. All those things could mean a heart issue…and all those things could be just my daily life. I can’t get around my lying anxiety brain to figure it out. I’m both hot and cold, sometimes feeling sweaty when there’s no sweat there. Right now my palms are warm and feel like they’re sticking to my laptop, but my feet are freezing cold and clammy.

I’ve had a pain in my lower right back today. I always have pain in my back, but this feels different. Is it real or anxiety? I hate that I can’t tell. I don’t understand how I’m supposed to know what is real and what isn’t. I don’t know when to seek emergency treatment and when not to. I don’t want to spend my life in the emergency waiting room…our local ER is terrible and our trips tend to last no less than 6-12 hours there. Most of that in the waiting room trying to get a bed to be seen (usually by a dismissive physician or physician’s assistant).

I’ve been depressed and not acting normal, not moving around much, not eating well, not drinking my water. I know this is all contributing to the fact that everything hurts me, but I can’t seem to get around it. I’m sitting poorly, also contributing to my pain. I’m not sleeping, some of which from pain, some because of the fear of having a heart attack.

I can’t even tell you how many good-bye letters I’ve written. In my previous house, I used to have them scattered around in weird places. Mostly hand-written in the dark of night when I was sure I wouldn’t make it through the night. Sometimes I write them on my computer and drop them into weird folders. Am I the only one? Does anyone else do this? I so wanted to write one the other night because it was that bad. I didn’t do it. I wanted to wake Hub and tell him good-bye, just in case. I wanted to do it before he went to sleep. I write the notes because I don’t want to frighten my wonderful husband…I can’t stand keeping him awake when he’s the one getting up early every morning to take care of the dogs and then go to work to support both of us.

I was sitting here earlier, just waiting for the time to go by. And I started wondering WHY I was hoping for the time to go by more quickly. I know I want to get up first thing and make calls to the doctor, but really, what is that going to solve? I’m not likely to get an appointment right away, so I’m still stuck in this anxiety limbo.

As I type, I’m restless. My jaw is hurting again. My back. My arm. I want to sob, but crying only makes me feel worse. I want to curl into a ball, but it hurts too much. I want to lie down and go to sleep but I’m afraid. I heard once that there are more heart attacks in the early morning hours, so I’m afraid to go to sleep because I’m afraid to have a heart attack overnight or in the early morning hours. For some reason my brain thinks that if I’m awake, I won’t have a heart attack. Or maybe I think if I’m awake, I’ll be able to get help if I start having a heart attack. Probably the latter.

This sucks so much. I hate this health anxiety. I hate that this is one of the few things that I’ve not been able to conquer. Sometimes I do so well, but other times I’m just so suffocated by it.

 

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Who do I do for?

Maybe about a month ago, I said to my father, “What do you think about having the family over for a Memorial Day barbecue?” He agreed, and although I offered to host the dinner at my house, he said it was fine to have it at his house.

I made this suggestion for a couple of reasons.

  1. My aunt and uncle (my mother’s brother and sister-in-law) have been trying to get us to come to gatherings at their house or their daughter’s house since my mother’s passing two months ago. In both cases, I declined, as I was not ready. My father went to the mother’s day gathering, and came back saying it was very difficult for him.
  2. My brother has told me how he wants “the family to stay together” and that he doesn’t want to give up “family get-togethers” even though Mom is gone. (I have so much more to say about this but…enh)
  3. I don’t want my aunt and uncle to become disconnected from my father and/or from the rest of my siblings and me.
  4. I wanted my father to have something to look forward to

I figured this would be very low key, so I didn’t make a big thing of it. I invited my aunt and uncle, my cousins, a friend of my mother’s, and my local siblings. I told people to bring any kind of side dish that they liked to eat, but that we would provide the grilled meats. I didn’t think about anything until I needed to buy the food a few days before, and even then I kept pushing it out of my head.

I thought Memorial Day would be easier because we don’t associate the “holiday” with my mother. In past years, if we ever did anything for Memorial Day, it was an impromptu cook-out at my house mostly because Hub wanted to grill anyway and sometimes my parents and brother would join us. I thought this would make everything easier.

When I went over on Sunday to bring some food ahead of time to my father’s house, I asked him if he wanted help setting up in the dining room, which is where we normally host more than the immediate family. But he wanted to have everyone in the kitchen. We went through a bit of work to make that fit, but he seemed to want to stay away from the formal dining room where we usually have gatherings. I understand, so I didn’t discuss it with him, we just did what we needed to for the kitchen.

There was a snafu with the grill, but we managed to get food grilled and put out on the island for people to serve themselves and then sit at the table together. I felt very disconnected from everyone. I spent most of the two hours disengaged and quiet. No one seemed inclined to hang around after eating.

My aunt–the one who can’t seem to get past her own grief for her mother–put her hand on my shoulder on the way out and said, “It’s a good first step, right?” I wanted to punch her in the throat. Instead I said, “thanks” and turned away.

We cleaned up, then everyone pretty much left. When I thought my father was okay, Hub and I went home. I was a bit annoyed at the “side dishes” that people brought (someone brought a little package of pre-cut fruit, someone else brought a little bowl of cut veggies, and someone brought a bowl of cole slaw), but I really just wanted the evening to be over.

I didn’t want to have this get-together. I didn’t want to be the one arranging it. I didn’t want to be there. I hated the whole thing. I didn’t do any of it for me. If it had been my preference, I would have not had any get together. I’m not ready. I’m not interested. It hurts too much.

My brother, the one who has said how upset he is that the family isn’t getting together? He’s the one who hardly ever spent time with my parents. He’s the one who doesn’t stop by and visit, or instigate any get-togethers. He never hosts anything at his house. He never arranges any family get-togethers. He never even calls to say “we’re heading out to dinner, want to join us?” He says he is going to invite our father out to eat to stay in touch with him, but he hasn’t done it. My brother’s wife saw our mother maybe once in the last difficult two months of her life. She just didn’t care. My brother suffers from major depression. He is being treated for major depression. I want to do what I can to help him. I don’t know how he is helping himself in this arena of staying in touch with the family. I think he is relying on me to do it, and I don’t want to do it. If he wants the family to continue to get together, he’s going to have to participate. Because I’m not going to step into my mother’s shoes and take over. It isn’t me. And I don’t want the things he wants. If he wants those things, he’s going to have to do them.

My father…I don’t know what he wants. I don’t think he ever HAD to do anything with regards to family gatherings, so he just doesn’t do it. If I don’t do it, will the family slow fall away from each other? My father doesn’t want to do anything. He never had to pay bills–my mother did that–so he has no clue what money he has or doesn’t have. He doesn’t know about his the house or car insurance. He doesn’t want to know. My brother–the one who lives with him–is basically doing all the bills. And the grocery shopping. And the cooking.

I basically just spent the last ten minutes sobbing. I’ve cried myself to sleep the last two nights. Today I just feel overwhelmed and completely overemotional and this isn’t even the first time I’ve cried today. Apparently not the last, either. As soon as I catch my breath, I just start again.

I miss my mother so much I can’t even… I just can’t even. Period.

I’m in pain. My body hurts. I saw my massage therapist but it didn’t help and she’s going on maternity leave so I won’t see her for months. I’m not sleeping. The acupuncture isn’t helping. My health anxiety is suffocating me. I haven’t been able to write anything (my books or anything other than the blogs) for years. Since before my mother got sick. I can’t figure out the paperwork for my mother’s bonds.

I feel like … nothing. I don’t want to engage with anyone. I don’t want to do anything. I don’t have the energy to be the person everyone else seems to need me to be. Not right now. Not today.

 

 

 

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