I ventured outside today. Not because I wanted to though. The last thing I wanted to do was put a coat and boots on to go walk around in the snow. I went out because I needed to. I’ve barely moved from the couch in 3 days. This year is not off to a good start.
First, we had the first-ever earthquake here in Central Newfoundland. Very minor. But there has never been an earthquake here. Then we had a major 3-day storm. Our driveway was washed out and our roof had some damage. Thankfully it was minor. Then I ended up spending 9 hours in the ER, for dehydration.
Through all of that, I’ve been struggling just to keep breathing. CPTSD has been kicking my ass. Between the paralyzing panic attacks, nightmares, disordered eating (restricting, binging, purging), chronic pain, and insomnia every breath I take requires effort. Putting in effort takes energy, and energy is something I have very little of. Or maybe it’s just a lack of drive or willpower. Either way, I don’t have much of anything right now.
But today I managed to tap into something inside of me that gave me a little boost. I was wiping away tears as I was putting my boots on. The dogs were so excited to have mom play ball with them. They’ve really been feeling the effects of what I’m going through and that has created such a massive amount of guilt for me. I try and tell myself that I really am doing the best that I can right now but it feels so fake.
The fresh air was amazing though. The sound of the waves along the shore was incredibly comforting. I miss walking there with the dogs. Another reason I dislike winter so much. When I get cold it triggers my CRPS and sometimes I’m in pain for several days after. It’s frustrating. Especially when more than half of the year is cold here in Newfoundland. So outdoor activity is quite limited. It’s a big factor in the decline of my mental health once the fall months are upon us.
Today the cool air was welcomed. It wasn’t windy, which made it much more manageable. It was as if by breathing it in I was bringing back a little glimmer of life. It even energized me enough to later vacuum, sweep, and mop through the house.
It was discouraging though to find myself standing in the middle of the room, on 3 separate occasions, completely dissociated, and I had to check my phone to see what time it was. Everything has just been so surreal. Over the last year, 40 years of trauma decided to all come flooding back at once, at times leaving me completely incapacitated. It’s been one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to go through. I’ve shed more tears these past few months than I have my entire life.
So yeah. It’s been tough. But I guess surviving all of this is a testament to my strength? Maybe. I dunno. But I do know that growth doesn’t always look like success. Sometimes growth involves holding on when everything just feels so damn heavy. At least for me, it does.
It all started when I went for my regular Ketamine infusion, which is part of my treatment for Complex Regional Pain Syndrome.
Felicia, the head nurse, asked if I was doing ok. She said I wasn’t looking like myself and that I was pale. I said I was good and that was all that was said.
I remember lying back on the stretcher while they prepped me, putting heart monitoring stickers on my chest, attaching a BP cuff to my arm, oxygen in my nose … I was shivering and could feel tears running down from the corners of my eyes but i had no emotions. It was strange because that doesn’t usually happen. They took my hand to start an IV and I heard a faint voice in my head whispering – don’t touch me.
I remember turning my head to the side and just letting myself drift away. Don’t have any more memories about the treatment than that.
Once the infusion was done they wanted to talk to David. Felicia asked him how I’ve been doing lately. David later told me that he told her I’ve been purging a lot, that I’ve been quite depressed and that he’s been worried. Apparently she told him that I’m not looking well. That I was pale, my eyes were dark, and my lips were almost grey.
I was awake, my eyes were open, but I was non-responsive. My neck and head were spasming and I was staring off with no reaction when someone spoke or touched me. So they decided to keep me an extra hour to give me more fluids and more time to let the meds wear off. David asked if they felt I had taken anything and she said no because my vitals were all good. But they did bloodwork just to be sure.
An hour later Felicia called David back in and told him that he needs to take me to the ER. Apparently I had been mumbling some things that no one could really pick out but Felicia had heard me say something about this being the end and it was almost time to die …. I don’t remember any of that. I’m just telling what I was told.
So they put me in a wheelchair and David registered me in the ER, where I sat/slumped for 9 hours. David said I kept falling to the side as if I couldn’t hold myself up. He had to ask for a pillow and blanket to put around me to secure me a bit. He said I was in a completely different world.
Then they called us in to a small room that had nothing but 2 chairs bolted to the floor. And that’s where I spent the next 26 hours. It was nothing short of brutal.
Tears are burning my eyes now as I write that. I think it’s cruel how this was handled. They took me from the OR after having a procedure done and forced me to sit up on hard seats for a total of 36 hours. I was hallucinating. I was in terrible pain and developed a migraine. Had multiple bouts of vomiting. And I started experiencing opiate withdrawal because after I took my meds Thursday morning, I wasn’t given anything until Friday night. By that time I had missed 6 doses of morphine. It was torture.
David had to leave at one point. We had taken our dogs with us that morning. So David spent the entire day going from me in the hospital to the dogs in the car. He’d switch every hour. Take them for a walk, a drink, get them a snack then settle them in the car again before coming back in with me. But they couldn’t do that all night. So around 10pm he spoke to the staff. They assured him that I would be in safe hands and would be looked after so he left to go home with the dogs. Just before he left, he brought me in Zoey’s blanket from the car because he’d been asking for a blanket for me for 2 hrs with no luck. So I just kinda dozed off, sitting up in the chair, with Zoey’s blanket over me.
At one point I started to be more alert and I was really confused. I needed to use the bathroom but there wasn’t one so I left the room and just wandered around a bit. I went to the nurse’s station and asked if there was a bathroom and he said down the hall on the right. I roamed the hospital for a while. Took the elevator a few times, and eventually made my way back to that room. I called David, upset, wanting to know what was going on. When he realized that I was still there in that room – alone, he drove back to Grand Falls again at 4am. In the meantime, while hyperventilating and being trapped in that space with the chairs bolted to the floor, I clawed/scratched/cut my neck.
David came, and he channeled his anger into fighting for me. He took me outside for some air then went and found a vending machine and got me a sandwich and water. I hadn’t had anything since 7am the previous day. Thankfully there was one nurse there on Friday that had a bit of respect and showed some compassion. She even gave me a little bit of her on personal toothpaste so I could brush my teeth. No one gave me a breakfast tray but she made sure there was one for me by lunch time. And she also contacted the necessary ppl to get my meds ordered.
Then my psychiatrist came. It was still another long painful day sitting in that chair but by Friday evening I was admitted to the psyc unit.
And I’m still here. I am much more stable than I was over 2 weeks ago but still have a ways to go. Have no idea what is going to come out of this.
We took our Buddy boy to the vet yesterday. It was a different animal hospital this time. We’ve been less than pleased with the service from our regular vet clinic in recent months so we reached out for a second opinion.
Right eyeLeft eye
Well, what I thought would be a simple eye exam and some new medication to treat this ongoing eye infection, turned out to be way more. $843 to be exact. I’m just grateful to have had the money available on my visa. The entire experience at that animal hospital yesterday was top-notch. From the time we walked in the door we felt welcomed. The girls at the front desk were so friendly! They gave Buddy treats (and sent us home with 2 FREE bags of them) and one girl was down on the floor with him, giving him snuggles and ear rubs. Buddy was relaxed and at ease right from the start. He tends to have high anxiety where he pants and sometimes shivers, but there was none of that!
Sitting contentedly, watching another doggy leaving with his mom and being very curious about the 6 week old rescue kitten bundled up in a towel in a woman’s arms.
So, long story short, Buddy has a rare type of severe bacterial infection in both eyes, that’s made up of 3 different bacteria strains. They did a swab to check for infection and found this out. Because it’s rare, the swab is being sent to a lab in Nova Scotia to determine which combo of antibiotics will treat it. It will take 1-2 weeks to get results back. While we’re waiting he’s on Prednisone drops (steroid) to reduce inflammation.
He also has cataracts in both eyes. I’m livid that no one told us this, despite having 3 eye exams already at the other clinic. She said that unfortunately it’s progressive, which means the cataracts will gradually grow bigger and multiply and he could potentially lose his entire eyesight. In humans they do surgery but in order to get that for dogs we’d have to travel to PEI to see an optometrist. There’s an animal hospital there that performs eye surgery.
Being curious about the voices on the other side of this door
But … he’s 8 years old, and overweight. A trip like that and to undergo such a surgery would do more harm than good. Right now she said that he’s seeing ok, except there’s a big black spot in his line of vision. It didn’t happen overnight and it’s something dogs adapt very well to. He probably doesn’t even notice the fact it’s there because it’s been gradual. But, it will continue to progress. This chronic inflammation and infection needs to be cleared up because it is causing the cataracts to grow and spread faster than they should. The pressure level in his eyes was also high so she checked for Glaucoma but that was negative. Hopefully that pressure will drop down again once the infection is under control.
She then went on to say he has quite a few symptoms of diabetes. Drinks a lot more water than most dogs, is overweight, has cataracts, has high eye pressure, and the lumps/fatty cysts he has over his body are really concerning. The previous vet told me I was overreacting and to not worry so much when we brought him in about 3 golf ball-sized lumps on his chest and ribs. So ….. off he went to get bloodwork and a urinalysis.
If I stare at it long enough, maybe this door will open!
David and I went there hoping that this vet took us seriously about his eyes but she was INCREDIBLE!! She was very thorough and clearly wanted the best outcome from him and she didn’t mind taking the time to do that. She told us to leave, go get lunch, and come back in an hour to go over the results and treatment plan. They even offered to keep BOTH Buddy and Zoey there if we wanted to go in somewhere to sit down for lunch. We took them with us though because I didn’t want to leave them there in a kennel, but it was super nice of them.
Such a good boy!
Boodwork came back … no diabetes!!! Thank God. His white cell count was elevated but that’s from the infection. Also, a few things showed up with his kidneys. And his urine was extremely diluted. Similar to plain water. He should be flushing out more toxins. So there are 2 rare medical conditions that he might possibly have which would explain everything but it requires further investigation. We have to measure his water intake over 24 hrs, 2 separate times. And we need to get an early morning pee sample to bring in. Which we’ll do when we go for my next pain treatment. She’s wondering if he has what’s called Diabetes Insipidus (different from sugar diabetes).
“”Diabetes insipidus (DI) is rare in dogs, and is characterized by excessive thirst/drinking and the production of enormous volumes of extremely dilute urine. Some dogs may produce so much urine that they become incontinent (incapable of controlling their urine outflow). The irony of this disease is that despite drinking large volumes of water, the dog can become dehydrated from urinating so much.””
Being comforted by Dad, after being poked and prodded
She told us that she’s only had 2 dogs in her career with it. But she’s the ideal one to treat it because she has it herself! She told us to NEVER restrict his water intake, especially until we figure out if he has it. He can become dehydrated even with regular water intake, and it could become deadly. She said she herself has to take medication for hers and if she misses it, in less than 3 hours she’s shaking and vomiting from dehydration, even if she drinks water. It’s very scary. It has to do with the pituitary gland not producing enough of the ADH hormone.
So, that’s where we’re at. We have pet insurance on them so we should get reimbursed for 50% of our vet bills. It’s still incredibly expensive. We’ve had several vet visits for him already this year (plus several with Zoey) and each time it’s been over $200. It’s adding up fast! But my are my world and we are going to do whatever it takes to have them healthy and happy.
So tomorrow morning I’ll start measuring his water. Then in a few days I’ll do it again then call in the numbers to the vet. Then they’ll check an early morning pee because it SHOULD be more concentrated. But if it’s still very diluted it will be safe to say that he has Diabetes Insipidus and will require medication for the rest of his life.
We’re also switching both of them to a high-fiber diet. She approved of the food we feed them. But prescribed a powder that we can add each day to increase the fiber. Or we could go with prescription food. Which she said is incredibly expensive. The powder was recommended because we already feed them with a vet recommended food.
My head is still spinning from all of this. But, one step at a time, one breath at a time. Hopefully the eye swab cultures come back soon and we can get him on the proper antibiotic to clear it up.
I had my Ketamine infusion on Thursday This time was harder than the others have been over the past few months. Maybe because I was dehydrated …? I don’t know. But … I honestly did not think I was that dehydrated though. It never even crossed my mind when I went in there. I could tell that one of the regular nurses started to get frustrated. She said my veins were even smaller than they usually are. It took her quite a while to locate one that she would even attempt to put an iv into. She started sweating and I felt soooo bad. I wish I could have just pointed to a spot anywhere on my body and said, there’s a vein! But there were literally no visible veins to be found.
So then came the manual search. She was gentle, like she usually is, but even just running a finger over my skin and some light tapping hurt. I felt as if I was covered in bruises. Except I wasn’t. I was just cold. After her 3rd failed attempt she called over another nurse who started with my hand, then worked her way up my arm, poking and patting and rubbing to try and get a vein to swell up enough for an iv needle to thread into. She said something about my arm being cold and commented on the fact that I appeared to be quite dehydrated. Something about the elasticity of my skin. I can’t remember exactly what it was that she said.
By this point the shivering had started. The first nurse took my socks off and started rubbing the top of my foot while the other one made several attempts at what she thought were strong veins. I had been fighting with every bit of strength I had to hold back tears but after another failed attempt at yet another promising vein – in my foot this time – a sob came out of my mouth. It actually took me off guard because I was not expecting it. I thought that the imaginary valve in the back of my throat was secure in the closed-off position but the force behind that sob blew right through it.
Somewhere along the line a 3rd nurse had come over and was rubbing my other foot. I didn’t remember her coming. It’s like she just appeared. She rubbed my leg and said, I’m only going to try once and if I don’t get it we’ll have to call Jackie. Jackie is one of the anaesthesiologists in the hospital and has been called on more than one occasion to come and place an iv in me. She’s never had to poke me more than 2 times and more often than not she got it in on the first try.
So that’s what happened. They called Jackie. In the meantime the nurses tidied up around my bed and got me a clean, warm blanket. They had used the other one to catch blood that had ran down my arm. They said they were going to give me a little break and then left me alone for a few minutes. I turned over on my side and held the blanket against my mouth and nose. I didn’t want anyone to hear me cry.
I stared at the curtain and just started praying. God, I can’t handle this … It’s too much. It hurts … it hurts all over. It doesn’t usually hurt this much. I don’t want them to touch me anymore. God, please … this is torture … I can’t …….... I know you’re here. You’re always with me. You tell me you’ll never leave me and I can come to you anytime. Well, I’m here and I really need you to be here too right now. God, please … make it stop ...
Jackie pulled up a chair and sat at the foot of my bed after a brief look over my arm and not finding anything of interest. She started rubbing my foot with her hands, to try and warm them up, she said. She told me to try and relax and to take a few deep breaths. With that little bit of compassion from her, I felt a fresh stream of tears run down from the corners of my eyes. She told me that if I take a few deep breaths it will help the blood to flow better through my veins and that my blood needs oxygen to flow properly.
Every time I tried to inhale my breath kept catching in my throat, which in turn led to a small gasp to get it back. It took several attempts before I got a good breath in but it really helped. I had started to feel like I was floating away. After a few good breaths I started to feel the bed beneath me again and I could feel Jackie patting the top of my foot. She spoke and told me to, stay really still now. I instantly lost my breath again. I felt the needle pierce the top of my foot and she slowly went deeper. I heard the click of the release button, indicating the iv was threaded into the vein and could be released from the needle. It’s in, she said. You need to breathe ….
And that’s all I remember. That was around 11am on Thursday. The next clear moment was when I felt Zoey’s wet nose against my arm around 9am Friday morning. Ketamine has that effect on me. It tends to wipe my memory clean of almost everything for 12 – 24 hours following the infusion.
My head felt like it had been smashed against a wall when I lifted it off my pillow this morning. I did a quick body scan to see if there was pain anywhere else. Nope. All clear! The first 24 – 48 hours after my Ketamine infusions are the closest I get to being ‘pain-free’. Today offered little space to appreciate the low pain level though. It was a freaking emotional roller-coaster inside of me today. Tears began shortly after I got up. I was washing my face and noticed that one of my earrings had fallen out at some point. This big wave of sadness just swept right over me and tears started falling. Wasn’t expecting that!
A little while later I was laying back on the couch and David was sitting on the opposite end. We were watching an episode of Station 19 on TV together and there was an intimate scene between a husband and wife. More tears … and no words to explain.
And that’s how the day has been. Little random things causing waves of tears. I was outside planting some things my therapist gave me, and tears were flowing. I accidentally bumped my leg, more tears. David called out and asked me to come outside so he could show me something and I cried while I walked out across the garden. Then just before I got in the shower I sat on the bench in the bathroom and cried even more. Like seriously. There was no end to the tears. And it all felt like it came from a gut-wrenching sadness that had tremendous force behind it. It could not, would not, be stifled.
The day is over now. It is late, or early, depending on how you see 3am. I’m reluctant to go to bed, as I sometimes find being in a horizontal position also heightens my emotions. And I’m feeling pretty raw as it is. But we are going out of town tomorrow, for the night. On Sunday our God-daughter has her very first communion and we’d like to be there with her. My face is swollen. My eyes are bloodshot and puffy. And my mood is all over the place. But the very least I can do is attempt to get a few hours of rest. Even if that means just lying still, with my eyes closed, while my brain continues trailing off.
Stillness is not effortless for me. It takes work sometimes. Wellness takes effort and I’m trying my best to do what I have to do, even when I don’t want to. Do what you have to do to make it to see one more sunrise. 🌻
Heart palpitations Nausea Nightmares Pain at the slightest sensation on the surface of my skin Sweating Shivering Phantom arm pain Stomach cramping Itching Brain fog Deep muscle and joint pain Dizziness Ringing ears
That is an incomplete list of things I have been experiencing over the last 12 days,
AND
I’ve survived it all! I started back on my meds yesterday so I’m hoping some of this settles a bit.
Self love is not my friend. While reflecting on recent days though I can’t help but feel a slight glimmer of something deep in my heart. I survived! 2 very challenging weeks that were filled with mental, emotional and physical pain. Yet I’m here right now – alive, intact, and conscious.
Our medical system really let me down this time. Radical acceptance of this is a tough one. But I have pulled skills from toolboxes I didn’t even know I had. This past week especially required me to often use some sort of coping skill to get from one moment to the next. My mind has been in a very dark place.
My faith has been the top thing that has carried me through. I felt like I was reliving the rock-bottom days of my drug addiction and the first days of rehab. I truly thought I was dying then – a slow painful death. I know there is a big difference between cocaine addiction and my current meds for depression, anxiety, blood pressure, and a couple of other things. Completely different situations. But that’s what all of this has felt similar to.
Today is a better day. Nausea has subsided for now. Am about to leave my house for the first time in a while. I have an idea!! And I need 2 new bookshelves for it. My dogs are also low on food so have to stock up on that. I can’t forget to pick up some Gatorade or Pedialyte as well. I told my therapist yesterday that I would pick up some sort of electrolyte replacement drink to help with the dehydration I’m experiencing. So that’s that.
Buddy is outside, trying hard to patiently wait for me. He’s laying in the walkway, and every few minutes he barks once to tell me to hurry up. Probably should have waited before I told him we were going in the car.
Her Complex Musings 
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