Well, the comfort I was receiving from the hot water bottle was wonderful. Except, it was short-lived. Through no fault of its own though! That hot water bottle was / STILL IS an incredible tool in my Skills Box.
A lot has happened lately. Maybe a slight percentage has been a genuine response to trauma and/or illness, and not something I had complete control over …. but when you choose to do something, YOU are the reason it happens. So whatever happens is your fault, isn’t it?
I’ve put my body through absolute torture these past 2 weeks and its going to take a while to settle from it all. Unless you deal with it on your own personal level, absolutely no one will ever comprehend what its like to live with a brain that wants me dead.
I can’t help but feel a little jealous … I’m actually more than a little jealous, but I digress … of the ppl I hear and read about who also deal with depression, PTSD, eating disorders, BPD, dissociation, and so on who have found ways to still live productive lives and can maintain a level of stability that is acceptable in other ppl’s eyes. I’ve been dealing with this stuff for several decades … and I have yet to discover what ‘stable’ looks and feels like.
I don’t get angry very often but right now I feel absolutely PISSED – at everyone and everything. All I want is to be able to eat, drink, sleep, and socialize with other ppl the way other stable, functional human beings do every single day. It really isn’t that much to ask, is it?
I want to live … and experience things outside of survival. That’s all I want. I’ve totally got the survival part figured out. Now, I just want to live.
Anyone who knows me knows that I am a very ‘complex’ person (eye roll). And that neither my mind nor body functions as it should, and can be very unpredictable. So there’s not really a lot that really surprises me anymore. But like, seriously. Get this … I’ve been sick with what my tattoo artist is calling the ‘Tattoo Flu’. Have you ever heard of this?!
I got my 8th tattoo last week. I have never had any complications from any of them. Have never needed pain meds or even much aftercare because they all healed without any issues. I must also add that earlier this year I had one done on the left side of my chest, which is a part of my body that was seriously injured in a car accident (my left arm was amputated). No major issues with that tattoo. Minimal bleeding, swelling, and redness. No bruising. I went through the session with no problem.
But this time … Oh. My. Goodness!!
Within the first 30 minutes I started shivering, and it didn’t stop. 4 hrs later at home, I was still trembling. I threw up about an hour in. He gave me a break, had me eat candy, and asked if I wanted to stop and finish the rest another day. I told him to keep going.
I must admit though, the reason I didn’t want to stop was mainly because of pride. Because, you see, I am tough! I can handle a lot of pain. I’m a badass, with tattoos! A few needle pokes got nothing on this girl! I’ve been through much worse. So no, I’m not quitting!
Anyways, I was under the needle for 2 hrs. I was booked for additional touch-ups on 2 older tattoos but at the 2 hr mark, he completed my chest piece and told me he wasn’t going to continue. He said “I think you might be getting what we call the Tattoo Flu … you’re going into shock.”
Me being me, how did I respond? “Don’t be silly,” I said. “I’m fine! It’s all good!” I told him that if I could go outside for a few minutes then I’ll be good to go again. But he refused, said it would be dangerous to keep going, and added that I was a sucker for punishment. I was pissed. (I think the fact that my body was reacting this way made me want to keep going even more. Not sure what exactly I was trying to prove ….)
I appreciated his looking out for me and it gained my respect, for being a good responsible artist. But that doesn’t mean I liked the decision!
It’s been 5 days and I’ve been feeling like shit. Leading up to this I wasn’t feeling the greatest to begin with. There’s been a lot of additional stress lately and I think it’s affecting my health a bit. I guess I’ve just been feeling a little burnt out. But still!! I did not expect this. I made sure I got some sleep the night before and I even had breakfast and some water before going to the appointment. But man, this stuff is real!!
So the tattoo flu is caused by an immune system response. When the skin is punctured by needles, the body reacts to the trauma and treats the ink like a foreign substance. So the immune system works to heal the skin and fight off the perceived threat. This response is what causes the flu-like symptoms as it tries to recover and protect itself.
I’ve had chills. Every part of my body has been aching. I’ve been nauseous and dizzy and even more exhausted than usual. Did I mention the swelling and bruising?! I’ve never had bruising from a tattoo before but it’s as if I’ve been beaten with a baseball bat this time!
The tattoo flu could last up to a week. Thankfully I am feeling a bit better today. Its usually only seen it in ppl getting really large pieces done in one sitting. I began showing signs after 30 minutes. Also, low blood sugar is common when the body is under stress, which is why the artist had a stash of lollipops. I didn’t know that a tattoo could cause uour blood sugar to drop!
I was given some great advice, which I will definitely take, to hopefully prevent the tattoo flu if (when) I get another one. It basically all comes down to self-care!
🦋 Have lots of carbs, sugar, and hydration in my system before a session. Drink a couple of bottles of Gatorade the day before (and during) the session.
🦋 Get a good night’s sleep the night before. And afterward, relax and be gentle with yourself because your body just went through a trauma.
🦋 Leading up to the session, don’t do anything super activating. Being calm at the beginning will help make the adrenaline rush and subsequent crash less intense. A lot of tension in the body before the tattooing process begins could actually cause an immune response to occur, that might otherwise not have happened had there not been so much stored stress.
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.
Oh boy. I’m really feeling the effects of the seasons changing this year. It’s like the end of summer has brought about some sort of strange grieving process.
When the alarm on my phone starts calling me up in the morning I open my eyes and with disappointment I discover that there is no sunlight bouncing on the walls now. Daylight is only just beginning to brighten my room. Over the past few months though, I’ve been waking at this same time to fresh, natural light and through the open window I hear the birds singing their good morning songs for me. This morning I was greeted with a chill in the air, that sent a shiver from head to toe, and silence. It will be months and months before my bedroom is bright, and sunny, and … welcoming at 6:00am again.
Upon waking every morning this week, my heart rate picks up speed and nausea rises from my stomach, stopping near the back of my throat just short of overflowing it’s wretchedness into my mouth. Repeatedly I swallow in an attempt to push it back down but it refuses to fully recede. It lingers there well into the late morning, making it difficult to get my daily doses of prescription meds into my body without gagging.
This morning I switched on my therapy light lamp. Does it actually work the way it claims? I have no idea. But it can’t cause any harm. So I will continue to bring as much light to my surroundings as possible. Darkness is not my friend and as I make my way through the next weeks and months I know that there will be much more of it. One can’t fight darkness with darkness. Only light can do that. So whether it be therapy lights, candles, lamps, the fireplace, or strands of twinkling lights strung from corner to corner, I know I need to start fitting it in wherever I can.
I hate this overwhelming feeling of dread that is growing inside of me. Every day it seems to fill another crook or crevice, weighing me down just a little more than the day before. Thoughts fill my head, convincing me that I will not make it through another unbearably cold and nasty winter. That I don’t WANT to make it through … And as the day goes on things feel increasingly pointless and the desire to take an extended nap has become quite appealing.
Then evening comes. As it approaches it brings with it an almost unbearable heaviness in my chest and a sick, unsettled feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. The beautiful colors of the late evening sunsets brought such warmth and peace to my heart over the past months. But now, those same vibrant bursts of color stretching across the sky bring tension and panic to my nervous system. Tears burn my eyes as I reach to turn on the lights inside my house and I angrily brush them away. No!! Not this. Not now. There must be NO tears. My stomach twists, tightening every organ on its way up to my throat, threatening to bring vomit. I swallow, gag, and swallow some more, wishing everything that I’m feeling would just go back down to wherever the hell it came from.
And so it begins. I fear what the upcoming weeks and months have in store for me. For now, the only thing I can think to do is to pull on a hoodie, slip my feet into a pair of fuzzy socks, and give myself permission to feel hugged by their warmth. I will light a couple of candles, take a few slow deep breaths and curl up on the couch next to my husband and fur babies. And as I try to draw whatever comfort I can from their presence I will remind myself that in this moment I am OK. I won’t think about next week or next month or Halloween or Christmas. Because right now, none of that matters. This is the only moment that counts and in this very moment, I am OK.
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 am not gonna lie; I am not always okay. I will always tell you I’m okay, but sometimes I’m not being completely honest.
Sometimes, I just want to disappear. I want to stop living. Sometimes, I feel like I am not going to be alright. Like everything feels wrong, and I am so sad. I am really good at pretending that I am okay when I’m not.
At night, the darkness haunts me. The pain is trying to suffocate me when I close my eyes. I am just so lost right now. My smiles are fake and I feel like such a fraud. I’ve been wondering what went wrong. Why is this happening? Why am I so unhappy? Why do I feel so tired whenever I wake up?
I am so sick of this. I keep thinking that maybe someday I am going to heal. Maybe I will eventually feel whole, as opposed to broken. I will experience what its like to be happy and content. I crave wellness …
but I just can’t reach it. I don’t think its ever going to happen for me. I can’t stay like this. I don’t want to be in pain anymore. I don’t want to be sad over and over again.
I’m tired of reaching for something I want so bad but never being able to grab it.
I was buried under a pile of blankets Counting my breaths Attempting to drown out all the noise Trying to slow down my racing thoughts Praying to hold on Fighting the darkness Willing myself to get up Practicing positive self-talk Bargaining with the universe Begging the pain to just Stop.
My mental health has been on a steady decline for a couple of months now. There’s been a lot that’s happened, in succession, and the stress of it all has been accumulating. Trying to manage both physical and mental illnesses why all this life stuff has been coming at me was too much and I crashed. As a result, every area of my life is now suffering.
A little over 2 weeks ago something inside of me just cracked and I attempted to end my life. In a moment of desperation, needing the mental anguish to just stop, I chose what I thought would be the solution.
After spending the past 2 weeks in the hospital, in the Intensive Care Unit, here I am sitting in the car with my husband, as we travel to his parents’ place for a 60th birthday celebration (tomorrow). I was discharged yesterday, after being cleared as well enough to leave. I feel a million miles away right now. Certainly not in the frame of mind for a party. I really don’t want to be around people.
Can I just say one more thing?
Our health care system here in Newfoundland, Canada is … I’m biting my tongue here because every word coming to mind could get me banned from WordPress … so I’m just going to say … it SUCKS.
It’s sad. Based on my own experiences my heart aches for those needing services. If it happened to me then I’m sure it’s happening to countless others.
In my opinion, if someone almost successfully takes their life and then sits in front of you and says they are not able to function because they are so mentally unwell, I don’t this it’s even sensible to suggest they develop a better sleep routine and that you’ll chat with them in 6 to 8 weeks.
Oh, how I wish self compassion wasn’t so hard for me. It’s like my brain purposely goes against it. It doesn’t come natural. There’s a part of me that tends to speak in a compassionate way yet she gets knocked down repeatedly. Kind words spoken to self makes the demon mad.
When things are quiet in my mind and I sense safety in my body my thoughts are more productive, kinder towards myself, hopeful, truthful, encouraging, calming … they’re healthy. But more often than not my system is fired up. I yearn to feel safety but it’s a very rare thing for me.
I try and make the best of what I have. But the slightest little thing pushes me into high alert and my system begins firing threat signals. A sound, a smell, a cell phone notification, a car door, a movement, a bodily sensation … these things all crush my sense of safety and my body takes over. My heart rate shoots up, trembling overwhelms my body, sleeplessness haunts me at night and exhaustion plagues me by day.
I want solitude. I want healing. But it’s so far out of reach that it’s a waste of time to even try.
For the first time in weeks I feel a little bit like myself again. Its probably been more like months but the few weeks have been especially challenging. My mental health has been on a steady decline since the summer came to a close and then I took a nose dive and crashed head first into rock bottom.
There was no one single incident that took place to push me over the edge. I’d been fighting to hold on for a while and my rope just grew so thin that it broke. I’ve been so tired. Just the simple daily stuff has even been too much. Folding laundry had been leading to meltdowns. Once 2 then 3 baskets became filled with clean clothes I’d sit and cry because there was no basket for the dirty stuff. My husband walked in one day and found me sitting on the couch with a towel in my hand, sobbing. I had gotten out of the shower and our 3 laundry hampers were filled with clean clothes so there was nowhere to put my towel or dirty clothes. Folding it felt so far beyond what I was mentally able to process. I thank God for my incredible husband who stepped in and took it over, while I sat there crying and holding on to the towel.
Eating. Drinking. Walking. Talking. Even breathing felt pointless.
And sleep. I don’t know how long I had been without sleep but I know I was into night 3 at least because my husband was working his 3rd 12 hour shift that night and I hadn’t been to bed at all during that stretch of time. I had been purposely avoiding food and water because in the back of my mind I was thinking that the weaker I could make my physical self … the more tired and worn out and deprived I could become … the faster my body would give up at the end.
I had every aspect of my death planned out. How I was going to do it, where I would be, what I would be wearing, precise timing of everything, who would find me, details about my funeral wishes were written down and placed in my wallet with my ID and other important cards, etc
What I didn’t take into consideration was how weak and worn out I actually was. And the apathy … I didn’t care. I was completely shut down. I had been experiencing waves of emotion in between the numbness but for 3 days straight I was a zombie. I just gave up caring.
So those things paired with all the despair and brokeness I had been feeling resulted in a week long stay on the intensive care unit then a transfer to a different hospital an hour away, which is the only place that has a psychiatric inpatient unit in our district. And that’s where I’ve been for the past few weeks.
Being in the hospital is a challenge all by itself. But today I ventured out of my room and wandered into the main lounge where several staff members were putting up the Christmas tree. A security guard came with a guitar and began singing. After a while I joined in and for the first time since my Nan’s funeral 2 years ago, I sang in front of a group of people.
Her Complex Musings 
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