Yesterday was the day I had to travel a state away for my nephew’s 5th birthday and to drop off Big One with my in laws. What a long day. We left here at 8:30am and didn’t reach our first destination until 1pm, 1 hour later than the party started. As soon as 12pm hit my anxiety went through the roof. I felt like my dad. My dad has always shown up late to every event so that he can make this grand entrance. So I start having PTSD of all these times he made this huge entrance making it a point to be loud, go around to everyone at the parties and kiss the ladies and shake the hands of all the men. And my anxiety went up because I was worried my sister was upset with me for being late. We shouldn’t have been late, but my husband thought it would be quicker if we took back roads off the interstate. Bad idea. He hadn’t counted on traffic.
And of course because of his back injury I had to drive, which I loathe and I have been doing a ton of this past week, and the week upcoming will be no better…. 539.1 miles I drove between appointments on wednesday, thursday, friday and Saturday. Not including errands locally. This coming week I will drive another 264.8 in appointments alone. This is getting so old. To and from my counselor is 53.6 miles alone. All this driving is getting to be a lot and it’s definitely becoming a barrier to treatment. Gas is expensive, driving makes me anxious, and I get lonely. Thankfully I have been listening to audiobooks, I have been thinking about signing up for audible again, because I feel less lonely when I have something good to listen to, and honestly I am getting sick of listening to the same playlist over and over, and there is only one playlist I can handle right now.
Going back to the party, as I have previously said I was anxious about going because I am so fat compared to the last time they all saw me, they all have money, and wear the best clothes and I was in my walmarts size 3x finest. I was so uncomfortable, I was mad I was late, and I felt so guilty. I still do. I hate myself sometimes. I tried to come in as quietly and without as much fanfair as I could. But I still felt like I made a huge spectacle of myself.
Everytime I walked up to the food table I wondered if there was anyone counting the number of times that I went up, but I didn’t want to fill my plate with food the first time, because then I would have felt more like a pig. ugh. It’s so hard to live with these thoughts. The thoughts that everyone is watching every move you make. I wanted to just melt into the floor, and I probably seemed really unfriendly to the people there I hardly talked to anyone. But getting there was so difficult I was worn out by the time I was there. Im convinced when everyone left they were talking about me. About how fat I was, about how many times I visited the food table, how I was late, how bad my roots looked, and I am sure so many other things that I could think of if I put my mind to it.
After we left the party we drove Big One to my inlaws house. They are supposed to keep him for the week. But now she’s thinking maybe only till wednesday or thursday. I wish she would make up her mind. And she’s going to have to drive him all the way home I have too much other crap this week to do. We ended up staying there too long because I was helping her with an online class she’s taking for CEUs that’s all online and she needed a little help. We didn’t end up getting home, (after we dropped off the borrowed car that I would have loved to keep) until around 11pm. And then Little One wouldnt go to bed she wanted ice cream. We gave it to her, then her sleepy pill and she was out. I took my shower because I felt contaminated. I couldn’t sleep, I was too anxious from the day’s activities, so when hubby and I went to bed I started an episode of 600lb life and put the sleep timer on. Hubby took a sleeping pill so he was out like a light snoring. I had to keep waking him up to roll over. At some point I finally fell asleep. I got up around 7ish to use the bathroom, and planned on staying up, but the next thing I knew it was 10:15. I got up, ate breakfast, and laid on the couch listening to an audiobook, I shut it off after about 25 minutes and fell asleep until just about 2pm. I felt like such a loser for sleeping all day. But I was just so tired. And the weather is so beautiful here.
The other day PollyAnna asked me how will I know when I am better, because I keep telling her that I am not any better. And I told her that I will know I am better when I am not so grumpy and irritable, when I don’t dread doing everything, when I look forward to going places, when I start doing things that I used to enjoy and Mary Poppins, that’s my new name for my med doctor, added when I am not so overwhelmed with my life.
Hubby wanted to know why I chose Mary Poppins for my med doctor. 1. I have a very positive image of Mary Poppins, she saves the Banks family. 2. She has a bag with many different things in it that will help her. Med doctor has many things in her “bag” that might be able to help me. 3. She’s a sweet woman, that I feel something akin to affection for.
Now let me tell you, that PollyAnna, I also have a positive image of (if you have seen the movie you see she is a lovable character), and I have something akin to love-hate relationship with her. What she does she does to help me, and I don’t fault her for the things that she assigns me that are difficult, she’s doing what I have asked her to do – help me get better. I often make her job needlessly hard- I honestly don’t try to. But my sister says I am doing my best to make myself as unlovable as possible and maybe I am. Maybe I am waiting for her to abandon me like everyone else does.
I am both looking forward to and dreading the upcoming week. Tomorrow I see the surgeon at the biggest city in the state, he will make the final decision about surgery for my hip. I am a nervous wreck. I don’t know what I will do if he says no surgery. I don’t know that I can live with this limited range of motion and pain for the rest of my life.
Thursday I see a neurolgist about carpal tunnel in my hands. She will do an EMG, so if I end up with hip surgery and hand surgery I am going to have to plan the time frames very carefully.
I feel like every part of me is broken. I am broken emotionally, mentally, physically. I need so much help I don’t even know where to start. And I don’t even think that I have mentioned that I may need to fire my PCP. The psych doctor really wants me to see an endocrinologist and my PCP is refusing the referral, even though my TSH is steadily rising, my fasting sugar is steadily rising and I have been insulin resistant since I was 18- 21 years.
Im feeling quite depressed today. I might even say a little like the world would be better off without me. Im just blah. Probably because of all the medical stuff that’s up in the air.
What a long post- probably since I missed yester