FINDING IT HARD TO CARE

With each passing day I find it harder to care what happens to me. I’m only worried about my Dad and that only lasts until he walks away from me or spends more time with his birds rather than have a conversation with me. I’m not paranoid. You can think it if you want but he did the same to my mom when he didn’t want to deal with anything.

My appointment with the Gastroenterologist is tomorrow, I’m still going alone. I get so worked up going to the Doctor. When it’s a new one I get my hopes up that they will have some answers or a magic cure. I have a tendency to start talking a lot and fast right away. Because I’ve researched what I’ve been diagnosed with I sound like a pain in the ass patient. It never goes well. The last time I tried waiting for the Doctor to speak first. She said “So what do you think I can do for you?” I was looking for a new General Practitioner so I was confused. I wanted to say “Umm, your job?”. What kind of question is that? I wasn’t happy when I left.

I’ve had way too many bad experiences with Doctors, not only with myself but watching what they did to my mom. I’ve been given the wrong diagnosis more times than I can count, had 2 Doctors tell me it was ok to have a “few drinks” for my stuttering, have one smile like a mad scientist while asking to videotape me, another lost pictures of my breasts when he had them developed at a local photo place (not kidding), been made fun of, talked down to and humiliated. Excuse me if I get flustered when I meet you.

I’m amazed at the things Doctors didn’t think was worth mentioning to me. I’ve come up positive for Monoclonal Gammopathy the last several years. People who have this almost always progress to Multiple Myeloma and no one thought it was important. The glands or lymph nodes in my neck are swollen and every other day I have a fever. My feet have been swelling again and these headaches are like nothing I’ve ever had before.

I can’t seem to control any of my emotions. I feel so alone it physically hurts. I want to scream “WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME LIKE I LOVE YOU!” but it wouldn’t matter would it?

Sometimes I think if I was dying would they love me more? Then I think of my mom. My Dad was by her side the entire time and when I wasn’t working I was there too. But there were so many other people that should’ve been there and weren’t. I don’t even know who to put for an emergency contact.

I’m sad and tired. Something has to change.

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The Art of Crashing

I feel it creeping up on me, casting it’s dark shadow. My thoughts are already wandering to places I don’t want to go. I go anyway. I have to, it’s a form of self punishment I think I deserve. I never stop to question it. The questions start. I ask myself “Why doesn’t my sister call me back?”, “Am I that bad?”, “Why does my dad leave the room when I’m in the middle of a sentence?”, “Why does it hurt so much to be ignored?”, “Why am I trying so hard when no one sees it and I feel the same?”. The mental pain turns physical. My chest aches like there’s something missing. An emptiness that can never be filled. Sometimes I can occupy myself so I don’t think. Lately this doesn’t work as well. I told my doctor no more new medications. I’m tired of being an experiment. The last one was so horrible I thought I was going to die. It’s brand new to the market and begins with a B but I can’t remember the name. They haven’t even done all the studies on it. I’m too tired to do the withdrawal from the Viibryd. It’s almost as bad as heroine withdrawal. These meds are all the same.

With me having severe malnutrition and kidney problems I’m probably not going to absorb much of them anyway. My white blood cell count is very low throwing everything off. Yet no one can tell me why. I’m sad, unhappy, grieving, and I have to pretend I’m not. If I don’t my family will get mad at me. I’m not trying hard enough. If anyone thinks I want to live this way, lonely, scared, disregarded, than they are the fools. I would give anything for a world of sunshine and kindness. A hug I have not had in years. Human contact. I tear up at the hair dresser because I’m not used to someone touching me with kindness. But again I have to pretend. No one wants to be around a sad or negative person. The mask goes on.