I haven’t had a zyprexa since Thursday night. I’m still fighting the swollen ankles, breathlessness and dizziness. Yesterday I took 20mg of lasix to try to empty out the excess fluid. Today, I’m gonna try again.
I called urgent care yesterday, but they never called me back. My nerves are a little shot, but so far today I’m holding it together. It’s only 5 am, but I’ll take what I can get.
I haven’t been able to get through the initial side effects of the last 3 meds my pdoc has tried (Latuda, Saphris and Zyprexa). I know she’s frustrated…it starting to show. I’ve tried nearly everything, at one point or another. The zyprexa shows that she’s starting to go old school, which frankly, I prefer. At least the side effects are well documented. I pretty much will give anything a shot…I always think, maybe this time it’ll work. Maybe this time the side effects will be manageable. Maybe….
I feel worn down.
I feel frustrated.
I feel….not all the way hopeless, but getting there fast.
I feel angry.
I feel like a failure.
When I called my father the other night to ask about the zyprexa, my mother was on the extension listening. The next day (yesterday, I guess) she called to see how I was doing. Which was nice.
But there was another reason for calling…the real reason.
She has planned a family vacation for thanksgiving week. My parents are taking me and my hubby, my brother, his wife and their two kids on a cruise for the week. I’m apprehensive.
And apparently, now, so is she.
The real reason for the call was to find out if I’m going to be able to handle going away. My mother…wants to know…if I can handle…vacation.
Because I am obviously crazier than she thought.
In my bit of weakness on the phone I let slip that the doctors not only don’t think I can work now, but they don’t think I ever will be able to.
That was never supposed to get back to them. One of the rarely acknowledged (by me) side effects of my depression is that, in an effort to make others understand, I reveal too much. I cross lines. I destroy defenses. I climb over carefully constructed boundaries.
My mother said that she thinks that I may never work again is sad.
Really? Ya think?
Personally, I feel as though it’s a devastating blow to my self worth and my self esteem.
But, I digress.
I feel as though my mother is afraid to go on vacation with me. Am I reading into things too much? Maybe, maybe not. The sad part is, that I wouldn’t really put it past her. I have to consider it because my sanity has been brought into question nearly every time I do something that she doesn’t particularly like or want to see.
It’s one thing to call myself crazy. It’s another to know that someone else thinks that.
I may start acting crazy and ruin the carefully planned vacation she has crafted.
Or I could be being completely unfair.
But, I don’t think so.
Or maybe I’m just being crazy.
She made a point to tell me that the final payment isn’t due for a few weeks yet, and even after that, she has purchased trip insurance.
In case I change my mind, I guess. Although normally she wouldn’t hear of it.
I know that she thinks she is just trying to make things easier on me. But, I also believe her to be afraid of my crazy.
Hubby is so looking forward to this trip. We couldn’t afford it. I’ve been hesitant about it, but because we are leaving my grandmother alone on the first Thanksgiving since Poppop died. Mommom is 96. She and Poppop were married for 73 years. And she will be with a grand-niece for Thanksgiving instead of her son and grandchildren. Because, I would absolutely make the trip to Pennsylvania to make that happen. But, my parents convinced me to go away.
I think I’m rambling. I don’t want to proofread because I’m tired of crying.
Dammit those boundaries were hard to build.
Can someone hand me a brick to re-build this wall, please?