Back to therapy


I went to a therapy appt. with D yesterday, after a 2 week break because he was on vacation and I was at my Mom’s. For the first time in 2 years of therapy with D, about 35 minutes in, I felt completely empty of thoughts and really wanted to leave. I didn’t, but spent the next 15 minutes in practically absolute, detached silence. At some point he said “your depression is worse, how about any suicidal thoughts?”. I reminded him that he (and no one else) is allowed to ask me that question. I have finally figured out that answering those questions only leads to problems for me.

My only “job” for the time I spent at my Mom’s was to be there emotionally for her and her husband and to assist in the decision making process of sorting out what is happening with her and what we should do next. I completely failed. After about a week of faking interest and concern and failing at attempts to be helpful/contributory, I felt myself drifting away and becoming more and more detached. I rarely spoke or offered any insight and soon felt disgust and hatred for both her and myself. I felt like there was nothing in my head. No thoughts, no helpful input, no interest. When the surgeon came into the room where my sister and I were waiting for Mom’s return from her bone biopsy and asked us if we had any question – the only thought in my head was “I should have at least one question” – I always have questions. But no, completely blank. I spent 3 or 4 days primarily sitting outside smoking cigs. with my eyes closed, but not able to sleep, and resurfacing occasionally to note the time and wondering how much longer until I could go home. I don’t remember ever being that “out of it” and incapable of motivating/controlling myself before.

Now that I am at home, the much needed/hoped for improvement in my mood has not happened. Shit.

FFS, I told D that I hated my mother. He responded with “You’ve never told me that before. Tell me, why do you hate her?”. What did I say? I remember groaning about her indecision, her assumptions that we all knew what she wanted or needed, her apparent inability to just ask for what she needs. Fucking great reasons to hate your mother, who is actively dying and in pain. I really hate myself right now.

I’m supposed to return to her house sometime soon, to be helpful and caring and help my sister in law deal with both Mom and her husband. I absolutely cannot see me doing this. I am such a shit daughter and can’t see a way out of this. Am I really going to go back and be useless and more of a burden to all of them or can I simply say that it’s all too much for me and I can’t do it?

My urge to cut etc. is large right now, both as a punishment for failing and to see the blood and hope it gives me some peace. I told D that I had broken a glass ashtray by accident and Wolf told me to pick up a shard for later use. He either wants me to swallow it or use it to cut. I’m not sure yet.

D asked me if I was taking any of my meds. “No, they make me feel like shit”. D – “Don’t you think that you functioned better on them?”. Clearly, he thinks I did. No, I did not. “I’m only taking the Trazadone to help me fall asleep (it still takes hours to shut off my head and fall asleep), I will not take the Seroquel, Zoloft or Lamictal again.” D – “So you just walk out of your appt. with the psychiatrist with the prescriptions and have no intention of filling them.” YES D.

I’m fucking tired. I want to fall asleep and not wake up again. I surely have the right to choose my own future.



It’s all too much

Currently my Mom is scheduled for a bone biopsy to diagnose the lytic lesions found recently in her left pelvis, left 7th rib, and right parietal skull. Likely metastatic disease from her previously diagnosed and treated (with a right lower lobectomy) adenocarcinoma. She’s been in nearly constant, soul-crushing pain in her hip for months. She’s lost so much weight in the past year. She looks like a walking skeleton. The various pain killers she’s tried have only been minimally effective, so if nothing else, this HAS to change soon. We’re waiting now for her I.N.R. to drop low enough (1.5 or less) for the surgeon to agree to do the bone biopsy. So, no more Coumadin (a. fib.) and lots of green, leafy vegs. She already can’t take care of herself or environment nor can she help her 86 year old husband who has advancing Alzheimer’s disease. At least one (preferably two) of us kids have to be here all the time. We all live in different states from them.

Her husband doesn’t fully grasp what’s going on, but knows something is UP. So, we try to keep him comfortable and content while knowing(me) that the shit is going to hit the fan soon.

As far as I go, my depression is worse. I have to hide any symptoms from them as much as is possible and try to be helpful and optimistic for their sakes. But my veterinary license is due for renewal by 6/30/14 and I’m 6 CEU’s short for the year. I spent yesterday trying to look up and complete an online course for the missing 6 units but I got mired in the registration and payment procedures so didn’t finish that yet. I MUST do this today and get the license renewal overnighted to the state board to avoid a late fee or cancellation.

My hospital bills from 2013 are still not paid because of an insurance company fuck up and I just don’t have the energy to try and sort this all out. I’ve been getting weekly calls from a debt collection agency about it and I’m to the point where I just don’t answer his calls anymore. God knows what will happen with this year’s hospital bills.

Since I was in the hospital at tax time, I had to fill for an extension. I really need to work on this, but luckily, I think I have until October 2014 to get this done.

You know, sometimes it really does feel like too much for me to handle. Sometimes i think it would be easier to just let it all go to hell in a hand basket and let the chips fall where they may. Just get on the crazy train and say fuck it all. Let the powers that be deal with it. But I’ve always been seen as the responsible, practical, reliable one, so I guess I have to keep trying (pretending) to be that person.


Driving is dangerous……

…especially when I keep finding my eyes re-opening and trying to re-focus as I make my way down the highway. My eyes wanted to be closed while I waited at the bank drive-in window today, but I had to keep opening them to check on whether she was back at the window with questions or my cash. Closed eyes while I’m sitting on the couch or on the carport steps having a smoke is, thankfully, not dangerous, as I spend a lot of my time engaged in these activities. I’m just so tired.
Cooking…Burnt food aside, getting distracted or actually forgetting that I’m cooking something can lead to bigger problems – like a fire. Got to try harder to stay focused.
Thoughts always have the potential to be considered by some to be dangerous. The ongoing goal is to remember not to disclose too much. Never, ever. Shrinks and their ilk are always dangerous.
Self-soothing methods adopted by some are not fully understood by many and unfortunately often get the “dangerous” label. Best to keep them to yourself. I should have learned that lesson by now. (dumbass)
Lastly, having a shredded memory often leads to all kinds of danger. Hopefully, there’s a friend nearby to fill in the blanks and not make you feel like the idiot you are.
Be careful out there. Doc

It’s all crap

It’s been about 3 weeks since I lasted posted here because for the last 3 weeks I could not remember my login password or where I might have written it down. Finally, I stumbled onto the right combination of words and numbers this afternoon. My depression has been bad lately and I’d like to blame my memory problems on that but I really can’t. It’s because of the ECT I just received. Never again. I was concerned about my memory and cognition issues enough before the latest round and I asked for and received a neuro-psychological evaluation before I would consent to more ECT. In general, the consensus was that I wasn’t in early dementia so it seemed OK to proceed. Well folks, my memory problems are much worse now. I know, they have told me that it may take 8 to 12 weeks for things to return to normal but I think they’re all full of shit. In addition to forgetting passwords, I got lost on my way to my Mom’s house – she’s lived there 20 years, I couldn’t remember if I had a stereo system at my house or even what my house looked like. There was a stuffed animal in my truck when I got it back, but I had no idea what it was or how it got there. I asked my sister about it and she told me she had bought it for me a while ago because she knew it was a character in one of my favorite Hayao Miyazaki’s animations. Do any of you know the story of “My Neighbor Totoro?” Even though she told me the character’s name, it took me 2 days to remember what the story is about. Today I managed to put a load of laundry in the wash and then I couldn’t remember how my dryer works. FFS. What else have I forgotten?
I have been feeling terrible since I got home. I am so fatigued all the time. I have never felt this tired. I am having trouble falling asleep, most nights it takes 2 to 3 hours to finally turn my head off and fall asleep. My dreams are intense and vivid, but luckily not scary. I just don’t give a shit about anything. I noticed when I was at my Mom’s that I felt as though I had turned off, became a robot, felt dead. The only emotions I had were the intense rage and frustration that only an egocentric brother can evoke and they made me feel like I was going to explode. Actually I did explode at him twice, with the result of him looking hurt and misunderstood. Other than that, most of the time I had to keep asking myself if I had the “right” facial expression on my face.
The reason for my brother and I to go together to see my Mom was that she has been in a steady decline of health for 3 to 4 months now, and it has finally reached the point where she had asked for our help. In the last year and a half she has had 2 total hips replacements, part of her right lung removed for adenocarcinoma, a bowel obstruction, and for the past 2 months unrelenting, severe pain in her left thigh and lower leg. The hip replacements were on the right side. Her weight has been steadily dropping – her current BMI is 16.2. When we got there she was barely mobile using a walker and only getting Tramadol from her G.P. for the pain. Three days later, her husband, who is 86 years old and has Alzheimer’s (but doesn’t know it) developed shortness of breath and chest pain. So off to the local ER where they decide he needed to be transferred to a larger facility for a stress test. In the end, he needed a pacemaker inserted and the unfamiliar surroundings and people and lack of my Mom’s presence, and sedation only served to greatly worsen his dementia. The very next day, I was awakened by my brother telling me that Mom needed me. She had developed acute abdominal pain in the early morning hours. So, off to the ER we went where a CT revealed a ruptured appendix. And the ER doc also mentioned, in the 12 seconds he was at the bedside, that there was also a lesion in her left pelvic bone “likely metastatic from your lung cancer”. Fucking great. She went to the OR, did surprisingly well, spent the night in ICU, and was discharged to home the next day.
So now, we have two people who can’t look after themselves much less each other, living hours away from family members. Big changes ahead.
Well, I’m too tired to write anymore. Maybe tomorrow. Doc.