My body is seriously pissing me off. Actually, no... my brain is pissing me off. My body has been recovering nicely - I'm getting back to the point where I can do things that I was not able to do (like use the freaking toilet.) But my brain... is terrified. I hadn't realized how bad I was, until I ran out of the anti-anxiety medication I've been on for physical therapy.
See, in the rest home, I found myself frozen when I was trying to transfer from the wheelchair back to the bed. I had my first big panic attack over the fact that I might not be able to lock my knees when I stood up (mostly because I was having trouble locking my knees when I stood up, naturally.) So, I was prescribed Hydroxyzine to help with the panic attacks. It helped - I hadn't realized how much it was helping until...
I ran out on Saturday, and at that point, I had figured that hey... I've been doing well. I was able to stand up fine off the toilet, I've been moving around the house well since the catheter was taken out... I even managed to get in and out of the car for the first time since May. I was well on my way to mobility - even celebrated with some Chinese take-out. The local economy celebrated with me - I always go big when I order hungry.
But yesterday, I noticed I was having some hesitancy issues - it was harder to make myself get around, although I did it. But this morning...I was brought to tears by my inability to make the damned Poise stick in its place (I've been taping them down, but the tape fell and of course, rolled away). Then, it took me 10 minutes to get myself psyched up to getting up off the toilet. I knew that I could do it, I've been doing it for the past 4 days... but my brain was busy catastrophizing, knowing that I would fall and be laying there, dachshunds licking my face, until Roger woke up and tripped over my bloody corpse.
I'm not sure what all to do about this - other than put in an urgent request for a refill of the hydroxyzine. Of course, that means going through Tiffany the Tyrant, my doctor's nurse, who a) never returns my phone calls; and b) has a history of "forgetting" to follow through with refill requests, especially for things like pain medication or depression/psych meds. So... that'll be my Monday adulting task.
And I'll be doing it on no sleep... I couldn't make myself go to sleep last night, because every time I put my Kindle away and closed my eyes, I started to panic about Roger. I don't have any clue what I'm going to do if I lose him... but that's another post.
No comments:
Post a Comment