Trying To Take A Break

The last two days have left me at a breaking point. I was told the real reason my Mom gave up was me. She died because of me. I was such a disappointment to her and broke her heart so many times she couldn’t watch it anymore. It made sense to me given what her last words to me were. “I’m sorry I f*cked up your life” I thought it was all the medications they had her on so I said “You didn’t! I love you more than anything.”

If I did cause her to give up then I don’t know what to do with this information. My Dad also said he wants to stop dialysis and die because ” I can’t continue to watch and listen to you like this, this isn’t my daughter anymore”.

The eight hour gallbladder attack didn’t help either. I took my medications but they were not in me for long before I started to be sick. My gallbladder attacks involve vomiting, low fever, chills, extreme headache and pain under my right rib. Not pleasant.

It messes with what little help I get from the medications I take. I don’t have to tell you that I wasn’t at my best. I wanted to run away where no one could find me. Stop taking pills everyday and worrying about who I’ve offended, who doesn’t like me, who I’ve let down, disappointed, hurt, ruined, and do what I want to do for what’s left of my life.

If the people who supposedly love me think it’s okay to talk to me like they have or just ignore me why am I following their rules? I’m tired of it. I want to actually live for awhile. I don’t want to sit on the couch that isn’t even mine for the few years I have left.

I need a break from mental health. A break from my family and being me. I just have to figure out how. If I don’t do this now I never will.

I’D BE LYING IF I SAID I WAS OKAY

Something is very wrong and I don’t know what it is. I’m a different person from day to day, hour to hour and I never know when the change will come. My joints hurt, I have severe headaches, one minute I’m with my Dad at the mechanic’s and the next I’m screaming at him and I start to walk home. I only made it to the shopping mall up the street before my legs gave out and I sat there crying. This isn’t normal.

What part of it is Bipolar or Conversion Disorder? What part of it is my medications? What part of it is actually me? Because I don’t know anymore and the only two people I have are giving up on me.

I’m tired of Doctors not being able to give me a real answer. The Psychiatrist wants to change medications again when I think it’s stupid to do if no one can tell me how my 1 kidney is processing the medications. If it’s building up in my system than why would you want to just give me a different pill? And he keeps saying there isn’t a way to tell when I know they can do blood work. The Kidney Doctors are no better they give me the same answer so does the Gastrologist. I’m tired of it. How many states do I have to go to? How many times do I have to hear “We really don’t know”. I’m not going to pay you anymore then if you really don’t know. What’s the point?

I can’t function. I can’t talk half the time. My dog now is sensitive to what triggers episodes. Today my Dad started to get into a topic that upsets me and the dog jumped in his lap and started growling then howling at him until he stopped talking. He also knows when I’m more than down he’ll press the side of face into mine until it hurts, smushing our cheekbones together. It does make me laugh. That’s one good thing.

LASHING OUT AT YOU

As much as I love my father I can recognize his faults. He is one the most stubborn people I’ve ever me. He pushes himself beyond any human limits leaving his family to deal with the consequences. This mostly means me. Yes, I’m close to my Dad, that doesn’t mean I should have to be the only one worrying about him and witnessing him at his worst.

Finding him unconscious on the front lawn with his car parked in the middle of the street scared me. What scared me the most was that his pants and underwear were down. My father never even walked around the house without a shirt on, he was hallucinating because his fever was so high. Dialysis knew he had a high fever and a Urinary Tract Infection. They also knew he wasn’t steady on his feet. Yet they allowed him to drive home anyway. I admit I may have called them and said some things that were not nice I really don’t remember some of that day but I take responsibility if I did.

I had to call 911 because he wouldn’t wake up. The second time I had to call 911 was because he left the Hospital against the Doctor’s advice. He was bleeding internally but they didn’t where. He was home 24 hours when I heard a boom come from the bathroom. I had to break the bathroom door but still couldn’t open it all the way because my Dad was blocking it. When I saw the amount of blood on the floor, walls, shower and even the window I found the strength to push him to the side. I got him up and he told me to get him to the toilet. He didn’t make it. He collapsed on to the toilet. It looked look his liver had exploded out of him along with some other organs. I was terrified.

I was screaming and calling 911 at the same time. The neighbor heard me and ran over. When she took a look in the bathroom she had to run outside. It was nothing but blood and tissue. When the medics arrived they said “I’m surprised he’s still alive. Jesus, what a mess.” Then my favorite neighborhood Police Officer decided to see what was going on. He asked the EMTs and they said I was upset and my Dad was hemorrhaging internally. His response? A laugh and “The daughter’s always upset she’s crazy don’t give her attention it only makes it worse”. I actually went to High School with one of the EMTs and he knew I was diagnosed as Bipolar. He didn’t like the comments and tried to tell the Officer that it isn’t a joke. I stopped him because it wasn’t worth it the man wasn’t going to change his opinion of me.

My sister shows up after the mess is cleaned and stress is over.

I need a new car, the alternator is shot in mine, it needs a windshield, brakes, and probably tires. It’s a 1999 RAV 4 with 84,000 miles but I should do it now while I can because I don’t know what will happen in the future. Of course my Dad insists on putting the alternator in himself and trying to do other work on it. He comes in every 15 minutes looking like he’s going to die. I kept telling him not to do it but he refused to listen.

Finally I had enough. When this happens it’s never good. I told him if I have to find him one more time I’ll make Leaving Las Vegas look like a Disney film. He wasn’t happy with that and said “Don’t you ever threaten me Goddamnit!”. That’s when I started to tremor, cry and stutter.

He can do what he wants. When I get a new car I just have to make sure it’s big enough to sleep in. I did spend some time with my nephews and sister. The older one spotted me first. Oh how his face lit up! He was so excited he yelled “MOM! MOM! Auntie Day is here! She is! She is!” and he threw himself at me so hard he almost broke his gift. I bought the boys a beautiful handmade and hand painted rain stick. They love stuff like that and it can be a decoration too so my sister would like it. She received Egyptian Goddess incense cones and make up samples. Her husband’s gift was that I showed up while he wasn’t there. lol

The boys looked so grown up I had to keep pinching the skin under my arm so I wouldn’t cry. I’d be banned again if I cried. I love them for their innocence and because they don’t know yet how the rest of the world looks at me. All they see is Auntie Day, the one who loves them and brings them cool gifts, who plays with them, laughs with them, and would do anything to protect them. I mentioned how my Dad is acting and how I’m worried about having a place to live if anything happens to him suddenly. She still made no offer. It’s a three bedroom house with a furnished basement that’s used as a man cave with a bed. I guess there wouldn’t be enough room for a 5’5″ 138 pound woman for a week.

Which makes me think I have gotten that bad.

 

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.

MY UNCLE’S CHOICE OF TREATMENT

My Uncle Jimmy was diagnosed as Paranoid Schizophrenic at an early age. He heard voices and had hallucinations. He was sent to the State Mental Hospital that we had at the time. My Grandmother worked there and the place was eventually shut down for their abuse of patients. There is a Cemetery on the grounds with hundreds of unmarked graves of the bodies they found while doing construction years later.

I believe my Uncle Jimmy was probably treated in a horrific way while he was there. Of course no one wanted to talk about it. The high dosages of medications they had him on left him with a constant tremor in his hands and he had problems with his grinding his teeth. He always had white spit in the corners of his mouth.

My Grandmother gave him over to the State when he was young. She did this with a few of her children. My Uncle Jimmy wasn’t violent he just didn’t have a filter that society expects a person to have. He loved to smoke and drink coffee. He hated the medications that made him like a zombie. He could either stay at a State run facility where they had control over him 24 hours a day or he could be homeless and deal with his illness in the way he preferred. Heroin. He chose to be homeless and to use Heroin.

I don’t condone his decision but I understand it. I had seen him at the State run facilities and it wasn’t a way anyone should have to live. He was in all honesty happier while on the streets. He did share needles with other addicts, a majority of them also mentally ill. He contracted HIV and lived with the virus for many years. At some point he stopped his drug use. I’m not sure if it had to do with his age or his health. He did advance to AIDS about 2 years ago and passed away from pneumonia.

I never saw my Uncle Jimmy not smiling. My mom loved him and tried to take care of him as best she could right up until she herself passed away. She always knew the gas station to find him at and would bring him hot wieners. He was her baby brother and mourned her death pretty hard. I miss his corny jokes and hearing him call my mom “Anna Banana”.

Like I’ve said before no mental illness or addiction is the same for everyone. At least not in my family. We laugh the loudest and cry the hardest. We always have.

The Chauffeur And A Change In Routine

My father is having surgery on his remaining Cataract tomorrow morning. Tomorrow is also a dialysis day for him and he usually does the early morning one.

The Eye Clinic called about his appointment and he told him to make it for 6:00 a.m. and he would do dialysis at 2:00 p.m. and they agreed.

The problem is he obviously can’t drive himself. My sister drove him last time because I just had surgery and couldn’t. There’s no way she’s waking up 5:00 a.m. to take him this time so I have to.

The problem with this is when I’m thrown off schedule with my sleep and the medications that actually do work (Adderall and Klonopin) it changes my behavior or mood. I am always worse in the morning and I’ve been like that for years. I do get better as the day progresses but start to go down again by 3:00 p.m. it’s a short window where I feel kind of okay. I’ve had trouble leaving the house for the past 6 to 8 months. My dad and sister believe if I’m forced to leave the house it will help me. They don’t realize how many times I sit in parking lots and cry.

It’s more about what I see and feel when I leave the house. I see new moms laughing with their babies, I see happy couples shopping together, or sometimes I talk to someone and feel like I’ve talked too much and embarrassed myself. I think people can tell I’m alone and starving for conversation, that I’m desperate. All of this hits me when I get back to my car and sit there crying. Sometimes it’s a smell that brings back a memory or on occasion I think I see my mom. The World starts to crumble and I can hear the blood rushing to my ears while my face becomes hot.

So I have to be the Chauffeur tomorrow all while trying not to cry or say the wrong thing because I’ll get yelled at.

My sister sent me a text today wanting to know which was better Amazon Prime, HULU, or Netflix. So I gave her the information on all three and broke it down for her. I don’t know why I did it took me almost an hour to put everything together and she never responded or thanked me. I should be used to it by now but it takes many, many, bricks to hit this head before I realize what’s good for me and what isn’t or do something about it.

For 2 people so concerned about my mental health they do a good job at trying to destroy it.

A REALLY BAD DAY

Last night I sent a text to my twin sister saying I wasn’t leaving my room for awhile. I wasn’t going to talk to anyone, eat, or do anything. I don’t talk to anyone anyway and when I said I wasn’t going to eat it was because when I do it doesn’t stay with me for long. I am also extremely tired all the time. But the text didn’t explain all that and sounded like an emotional threat to her.

She responded this morning with excuses why she hasn’t contacted me or my Dad and how she has been really busy and in pain all the time. She also mentioned that she hasn’t had to answer several other texts, she’s been too busy going to the kid’s baseball games, a parade and running the concession stand.

All of this pissed me off for some reason. She couldn’t find one minute to call our Dad on our Mom’s birthday knowing he would be down? To that she replied “F*ck You”. It only got worse from there.

It ended with me being in the same boat as my brother. Banished.

For as long as I can remember she never wanted people to know we were sisters let alone twins. I felt like she was ashamed of me but couldn’t understand why. She made the rule that we couldn’t have the same friends starting in Junior High. This is still the case even now as adults. It hurts. She can’t or won’t explain why.

I do resent her and feel bitter towards her because she has been able to have a “normal” life. Also because she never involved herself in the messiness of death or anything else I’ve had to deal with on my own.

I know that it’s my choice to stay here with my Dad. If I did leave I know he wouldn’t last long and my sister would do nothing about it.

I feel anxious, alone, and scared. Most of all I feel a tremendous sadness. I don’t want to be like this anymore. It’s never going to end. I’ve been told it isn’t. I’m tired of being dismissed. When I do talk no one listens. I talk to my dog because at least he looks like he’s listening.