Reblog: A Perspective of Suicide

I have written before about chronic pain and suicide (here). However, here is a post that way better explains this phenomenon. Please give it a read. It makes you rethink the way you see suicides by chronic sufferers of physical or emotional pain.

A Perspective On Suicide

The Cherry on Top

I had an appointment with my endocrinologist the other day. I see him for prediabetes and hypoparathyroidism (extremely low Vitamin D deficiency). We make time for each other every 6 months where he checks my bloodwork (that I get done 1 week before my appointment), tells me everything’s looking good, and then I go home. Well, that’s the way it has been the past year…

Monday, however, was unfortunately not my usual easy appointment. He takes a look at the test results, and circles something before continuing down the list. At that point I was thinking to myself that maybe my Vitamin D levels were off again or maybe it was my A1C and I should be checking my blood sugar more often.

Well, imagine my surprise when he asks me if I’ve been taking my thyroid medicine! I was like, WAIT…you never prescribed me any thyroid medicine because you said that my thyroid has always checked out. Turns out that what he had circled was the results of the thyroid test. He checked back at the past labs before saying, “yes- you’re right. Before the levels were always normal. Today, however, it seems that your thyroid is not functioning anymore.”

WHAT? That was the last thing I expected to hear. So he checked my neck (where the thyroid glands are) and said that they were swollen. I had actually noticed that the area had been sore for a while, but I assumed it was because I smoke, or maybe because I was getting sick…not realizing that I never came down with anything.

The thyroid gland controls the way your body uses energy, like your metabolism. The symptoms of hypothyroidism (not producing enough thyroid hormones) are a lot like those for fibromyalgia. Low energy levels, tiredness, weakness, trouble dealing with cold temperatures, and memory problems (or trouble thinking clearly). So I assumed those were all because of the Fibro. Also, it can cause dry hair, dry skin, constipation, and hair loss. I assumed the dry hair and skin was just a byproduct of the extreme colds this winter and I deal with constipation because of the adhesions and pain medications. The hair loss I didn’t really think much about because I have really thick hair and always shed. So see, there was no symptom that was really out of the ordinary for me. Add to all this the fact that when something is wrong I can usually tell, but then it is a matter of getting a doctor to agree with me. It’s sad that things are that way, but it’s true. I forget sometimes that I have composed a great team of doctors (the jury is still out on my GP, though lol) and don’t really have to worry about that anymore.

Suffice it to say that I was STUNNED that something is wrong with me and I didn’t realize it. It also bothers me that the inflammation has caused permanent damage to my thyroid and I will now have to take thyroid replacement medication for the rest of my life. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t already have a laundry list full of different diagnosis…now I have one more that will follow me around. One more invisible illness to have to manage.

So yeah, when the doctor told me all of this, I said “well isn’t that just the cherry on top?” One more thing to have to deal with. I am, however, looking forward to the fact that once the thyroid levels are regulated I may get a little bit of energy back. I really miss having energy! What I am not looking forward to are the doctors appointments every two months until we find the right dose of medication or the new pill I will have to take every day. At this point, all I can do is look forward to the sweetness of that cherry instead of the hard pit in the middle.

Dear Mama,

It’s been a very long time since I last wrote to you…10 years almost. I guess the reason why it has been so long is because sometimes I talk to you as if you were here with me. That, and because I know you can see me and are watching over me. To be honest, that thought has brought me a lot of peace over the years…and a lot of grief. I worry that I have let you down. I know that you had such big plans for me – for my future – and that I have failed you in every way possible. I have made a lot of bad decisions along the way that have had a negative effect on my life. I was once again going in the right direction when I went back to school. I knew you were proud of me then. But of course, those negative decisions I made came back to bite me in the ass.

I was so very grateful that you were not here to see the fiasco of ’05. I know it would have broken your heart. Also, I feel I should apologize for not moving with you to Georgia. I should have been the one to take care of you. School could always have waited. I am so sorry that I chose A. and school over you. It was wrong of me and I know you must have been scared and lonely. I should have been there. Also, I felt really bad about signing the DNR in 2003. I know that you never wanted me to have to go through what I went through with that. I felt so bad for such a long time because I never felt I got the chance to say goodbye. You do know I was on my way, right? We were looking for a parking place at the hospital when they called to say it was too late. That was the worst type of pain – the emotional – knowing that you’ve made the decision that kept you from seeing your mother for the last time. Of course now I know that it would have been cruel to allow them to keep you alive just for me, I also know that maybe you chose this time specifically. You wanted me to know that I had almost made it, but you knew the drama that would ensue, so you chose to go early. At least that way you got the eternal peace that you needed. I probably would have been selfish. Thank you for giving me the strength to make such a tough decision. I know you wanted to go, it was time. You were ready for the grace you had been promised. I understand that now.

I talked to Aunt Donnie a bit before she left here to be with you there, and she made me feel a lot better. I’m sure she said exactly what you would have. She asked if I could ever remember a time when you were disappointed in me. I thought for a good little while and couldn’t come up with one. She told me that’s how strong your love for me is. That you were incapable of disappointment in life, so why would you be disappointed in me now? She said that you know I didn’t plan to get sick, that no matter what, you were always proud of me. Always were and always will be.

That got me to thinking about unconditional love. You were my very best friend. You were the one person in the world who has ever loved me unconditionally. Now that I don’t have that kind of love anymore, I long for it. I know now that it’s God’s gift to me but you know, it just doesn’t feel the same. I love you and miss you with every fiber of my being. Please know that I strive daily to be more like you. I’m honored when someone compares me to you because to me, you were truly a gift from God sent to earth. By the way, I have learned how to crochet now. I enjoy it because I feel closer to you as I work with it. I need your help to make the right decisions in my life. Things are really complicated and I would love nothing more than to be able to be in your arms while I tell you all of my troubles. You always did give the best advice, without judging. I need that understanding and I need you to comfort me. Since these things aren’t possible, will you send me the person who is supposed to hold and comfort me? I desperately need that unconditional, understanding, comforting and caring kind of love. If he’s here, teach him what I need. I will always hold you in my heart. I know that I am never truly alone because you are with me. I love and miss you terribly.
With love, Joy

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My Truths

Up. Down. Up. Down. Round and round. I am back on the roller coaster that is my life. I thought that I had gotten the ride to stop and let me off, but now I see it was all an illusion. I have never been off. Minute fluctuations in energy and mood have made me believe what I have wanted to believe anything but the truth. The truth is that I am sick. The truth is that I have little to no support system outside of this blog. And the truth is that it sucks.

Truth number one: I am sick. It has been proven. I have not only surgical reports like before, but now also have photos and video of just how messed up my body really is. I went through the depression that came along with the (visual) proof of the adhesions plus the realization that absolutely nothing can be done to get rid of them. I cried. I pleaded. I screamed. I asked God why. I argued with myself and with my body that this was not going to get me. I told people that I had finally accepted it and I was going to fight through it. I even had an enjoyable Christmas.

But now the truth is sinking in. Yes, I was able to cook for Christmas thanks to the wonderful power of both adrenaline and opiates. I was able to control my shaky, adrenaline flooded body down enough to eat (again thanks to opiates but this time with a side of Ativan). And yes, Christmas Day was a day of rest and napping with no reprieve to my screaming muscles and achy back and pelvis. The sharp, cramp-like pelvic pains are even back. Subconsciously I knew I was doing WAY too much, but mentally I rationalized. Oh, I will have plenty of time to relax after the holidays; and maybe I will. But for now, I am one miserable human being because of it.

Truth number two: I have little to no support system outside of this blog. My one true support is my therapist. I mean really? She gets PAID to listen to me. That can’t count, right? Then there’s M. He listens to me about half of the time and counters what I have to say so that it seems he is belittling my statement. He may not mean to. He may mean (in his own strange way) to try to counter my negativity. But is saying that I’m hurting, that my body is stressed, really being negative? I don’t believe so. I believe that I’m stating a FACT. And trying to get it out verbally to someone hoping they will understand. Well, no such luck.

So I will vent here. The one place in the world where I am heard. Where there are people who understand what I’m going through and don’t push to make me “forget about it” or where the subject isn’t changed. Please understand that I am not being negative. I have begun to heal from the shock of realizing that this is my life now. Everyday I am getting closer to accepting things for how they are. Sometimes, though, I just need to get my feelings out. I need to cry and beg and get angry. I shouldn’t be chastised for that. At least I am not in denial anymore. That means I’m one step closer to accepting this monster that has invaded my body, although true acceptance may take a while to come.

P.S. Update: In the post Rain On Me, I apparently misunderstood what my sister-in-law meant to say. According to M, it is a phrase that means “when it’s not one thing it’s another”. I can handle that. It’s much less condescending than what I believed it to be and I apologize for thinking otherwise.

Rain On Me

Image by: FarTooCute.com
http://fartoocute.com/2008/09/08/tom-wishes/

While on Facebook the other day I got a message from my sister-in-law. The message she sent was actually meant for someone else, but since the conversation was started, we continued it. She asked what I was doing and I told her I was in bed. I guess it was around 5:00 or 5:30 p.m. She said (note: this is a general interpretation since the conversation was in another language and some things just don’t translate. In other words, it might sound a little funny), “what, are you still sick?” My answer to her was “More or less. I’m actually better after recovering from a UTI.” Her response to that was “when is it not raining on your head?” I tried to laugh the snide comment off by jokingly saying “I know, right? It’s just one thing after another.” I thought that would be the end of it, but then she says “well, just take them [illnesses] out of your body, don’t let them stay” (basically meaning that I have some control over this…possibly that I’m making it up?) Of course, I’m not going to let that slide, so I responded “I would love that, but the surgeon tried that already. He says it’s too dangerous to remove them [adhesions]”

At the time, the conversation continued so I just let it go. Well, I guess I forgot about it. Until today. This is the same one who said to me before: “well, when you hurt, just tell yourself you’re not hurting and you’ll be ok.” Geez, don’t I wish it was that easy? Obviously she doesn’t understand what’s wrong with me, or maybe she just doesn’t care to. I don’t know and I don’t care. What I do know is that I have gotten to the point that I dread talking to her. I know she’s going to ask how I am and I know that my answer will not be “great!” I will no longer go into detail trying to explain my illness to her, but I won’t pretend that everything is exemplary. I will continue to say “fine” or “more or less”. It’s not that I’m pessimistic, it’s just how things are.

In contrast, I got a message from another sister-in-law a couple of weeks ago. She wanted me to know that she had read my blog and that up until then she hadn’t realized how serious things really are for me. She said that she can only imagine the pain that I deal with on a day to day basis. She commended me for making the 12 hour (which turned into 14 hrs. thanks to the dogs) trip to Michigan in August. She said that she doesn’t travel because of how tiring it is, so the thought that I made the trip in as much pain as I am in just really impressed her.

Her message actually made me cry tears of relief that SOMEBODY in this family. I thanked her for making my day. This difference in what these two family members said to me was astronomical – at least to me it was.

If you’re reading this blog because you too are in pain, then you know exactly what I’m talking about. If you’re reading because you have a loved one in pain and would like to understand them better, then I applaud you. If you’re reading this blog for the hell of it, then do me a favor and google “what not to say to someone with chronic pain” (caregivers you can do this too). You will find plenty of articles about what to and what not to say to someone in chronic pain. Read one and then store that information. When I did it just now, one of the first to pop up with both lists was mdjunction.com (For what NOT to say to someone in chronic pain and for what TO say to someone in chronic pain Check out these links). Like I said, just store that information and keep it with you because you might someday need it. I wish the first sister-in-law cared enough to do the same.  What she doesn’t know is how incredibly strong I am.

Image from Sukiscoop.com
http://www.sukiscoop.com/2012/04/04/rain-down-on-me/

Taking Stock | Just Another F-bomb

Dealing with a chronic pain disorder can feel like having the  weight of the world on anyone’s shoulders. Lives are forever changed as time is spent adapting to the new limitations that have suddenly been foisted upon us. Before we even realize it, life revolves around the illness as we wade our way through Dr. visits, lab work, diagnostic studies, various therapies and…

Read More: Taking Stock | Just Another F-bomb.

This is absolutely what life is like.  Our whole world begins to revolve around our illness.  The lucky ones are those that have been able to accept it for what it is and move on from there.  Thank you, Leslie for this post and reminding me that this is my new life now.  Time to learn how to deal with it and be thankful for what I have.

Bad Days

I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that all of us who suffer from some form of invisible illness have good days and bad days.  I have had a bad couple of days.  I don’t really want to talk about yesterday for one because it would probably be too much information anyway, and for two, well, I just don’t want to talk about it.  Suffice it to say that it was a BAD day.

Today started out a little better, and I had PT this morning.  Usually, I bounce back pretty quickly from the torture that is physical therapy, but today my body just isn’t agreeing to do so.  I had a lot of trigger points on my stomach…partly around my incision scar, and the other two were right where they always are on my hip flexor muscle.  I guess I should probably look it up to see what I can learn about it, but I don’t even feel like doing that right now.  I am hurting so bad all I want to do is try to sleep…which is close to impossible and when I do sleep, I get a whole 2 or 3 hours at a time. At least for those two or three hours I don’t feel the pain. I believe that this is where a lot of depression comes from. Not only from the pain, but being unable to escape from it. Escapes are short-lived and if you spend all your time in bed, people think you’re depressed anyway.

I don’t know, but for some reason, I am having muscles spsms all over my body. This morning, my back was actually feeling better (because of the foam roller) and now, just after her trying to work out trigger points on my stomach, I have back muscles from my bottom all the way up to my shoulders trying to cramp. Not to mention the sensation that my stomach from right under my ribs all the way to my lower pelvis (hip flexor) is black and blue from PT this morning (which it is not…I’ve looked!)

I really should be (and sort of am) grateful that it has been a while since I have had bad days like this. However, for as much gratitude as I can muster, I have twice as much anger and frustration because I just want to feel better again. For a while I felt that things were getting better…and just like they always do, I am slapped in the face with another set of bad days. I truly hope that this doesn’t last long. With as much other stuff as I’ve been dealing with lately at home, I know that I don’t have the patience today to deal with anything. I am almost dreading him getting home from work, because he is going to expect me to be ok like I have been lately, and he doesn’t know how to deal with the bad days. He will either say the wrong thing, or even just insinuate something (like I’m just being lazy) and it’ll start a fight. Of course, as you know the circle of never-ending shit is that the pain causes the anxiety, the anxiety just causes more pain, and the two together make me a not so great person to be around. No wonder he says he gets tired of my shit. I would be tired of me too. I am tired of me…tired of this continuous roller-coaster of good and bad days. How am I supposed to learn to get used to this? To accept that this is my new “norm”? Well, I don’t want to accept it, I want to get better.

Note: as I am writing this I am crying, and the bigger of my three dogs (the one from the picture yesterday who was all covered up on the couch) kept trying to get to me. I put aside the tablet, and he started licking the tears off my face. How sweet is that? He has a habit of doing it, so I sort of knew what he wanted. I kept trying to tell him I was ok, but he had to make sure for himself before he would leave me alone. See why I love my “babies” so much?

Now, back to what I was saying…those of you who have been sick for a long time (i.e. Julie) how do you accept that this is your new life? At what point does it finally stick in that hard head of yours (mine, not yours) that life as you knew it is over and you are cursed to suffer for the rest of your life those bad days when even the good ones aren’t great? I have tried and tried and have not managed yet to accept this life I have been given. Any words of wisdom from any of you who accompany me in this suffering?

 

My New Church

I found my new church today. It’s called Saint Patrick. I stopped by today to see when their service times were. I ended up staying for close to two hours talking to the office manager. She was wonderful. She took me around to see the building, left a message for the priest about joining the RCIA which is basically a class that teaches you all about the Catholic Church and explains why they do what they do and why they believe what they believe. Classes actually started in September, and then by Easter you are supposed to be prepared for your baptism. She is going to see if it is too late for me to enter these classes. She completely calmed my nerves about going to church with my cushion, and she even gave me my first prayer book so that I can start learning the new prayers. To someone who was raised southern Baptist, the Catholic Church is quite a change, but there are many parts of it that I enjoy. I like the structure of it. I like how very educated every priest is, and I like that it doesn’t matter which Catholic Church you go to, you will learn the same lesson. No worries like the Baptist churches that one church will preach something completely different from the next one. That stability is there and that is what I need in my life right now. I was made to feel very welcomed. Therefore, either on Saturday afternoon or Sunday morning I will be attending Saint Patrick Catholic Church. It was exactly the kind of welcome that I had hoped for.

My heart already has a little more peace in it, knowing that I will be well accepted into this church. That’s always the scariest part…the first visit. That fear was taken from me and smooshed into the ground.

 

Who’s to Blame?

Who’s to blame when I feel bad?  I hurt and take the medicine prescribed to me by a doctor.  The fact that the medicine makes me sleepy is enough to  start an argument.  I am taking medicine that is pretty strong, but that does not make me a drug addict.  I take it because I want to be me again.  I have come to realize that a lot of the basis behind the arguments that I deal with here at home aren’t necessarily because I am not loved, but because along the way I have forgotten how to love myself.  And if I don’t love myself, how can I expect anyone else to either.  With this pain that I deal with on a daily basis, I lost myself and the love I had for myself.  I have to figure out who I am and I have to figure out a way to love who I am now.  I am not the same person I was a few years ago.  I am Me with pain…and that is a hard pill to swallow.

So who’s to blame that I lost myself along the way?  Who’s to blame that I lost the love I felt for myself?  If M- is not to blame for me not loving the new me and I am not to blame for not loving the new me then who is.  It’s not the medication’s fault.  The medication is there to help me function again.  I don’t love me because I find it difficult to live with this pain and still be able to function in daily life.  it’s not the medication’s fault.  It’s not my fault.  It’s not M-‘s fault.  It’s the pain’s fault.

The pain has what has caused me to lose the love I had for myself.  I realize that it is going to take time to love myself again. I think that M- finally realizes that it is going to take a while to love myself again.  But what has happened is that he tries to “fix” things…including me.  He can’t ‘fix’ the pain, he can’t ‘fix’ the fact that I have lost myself along the way.  I am the only one who can ‘fix’ me.  I am the only one who can learn to love myself again.

One day I will.  One day I will love myself again and I will realize that I am not the same person I was.  I will learn to be the new me, whoever she is.  In the meantime, we may still have issues.  But as long as we both understand that 1) I have to love me before I can feel that he loves me and 2) neither one of us can ‘fix’ me then I think that we will be able to ‘fix’ the issues that we have, the issues and arguments that have arisen along the way.  I will learn to love myself and I will learn to live with this pain.  It may take a while to do, but it can be done.  And neither of us are to “blame” for the fact that the pain is here.  It simply IS.  We will figure it out.  It will just take some time to do.

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Six Years

Six Years

Today was the end of year six, and the end of us.

I know the pain has changed me.
Has it really changed me that much, or are you just naming blame?

The one thing I wanted from you was understanding.
I never expected you to fix me, just love me and understand me…apparently that was too much to ask of you.

I just don’t understand what went wrong.
I don’t know where your love went…or was it ever there?

So many things I have found to be un-truths.
Were we an un-truth also?

Why would you tell me what you think I want to hear?
What I really want to hear is the truth…how you feel or felt.

You don’t even understand the damage you do to me when you walk by not acknowledging me.

Am I just a piece of furniture? Do I not exist?

And when questioned about whether or not your family’s love was true, you kick me while I’m down by saying “I guess they have their reasons not to love you.”

So, I’m not only losing you, but a family too?

I find out that you thought I was faking…until you heard the doctor and saw the pictures.
Was that not enough to prove to you that I didn’t make this up?

I didn’t want this. I wanted us. I didn’t mean to change, it must have just happened.
But you changed the most.

You used to believe me. You used to support me.
I used to not be a burden.

When did that change? When you found out it was real?
When you realized it wasn’t going away?

And if I was the one who changed, why did you say you were sorry…that things…you…would get better?

I don’t see things getting better. I see you walk by me as if I don’t exist. You don’t love me, but you “feel bad” leaving me this way.

Don’t worry about me…I will be stronger. I will be stronger without you and your lies.

It will take time for my heart to heal from the damage you have caused, but I will be fine.

I will grow stronger and I will have learned a very important life lesson.

I will not trust so easily, I will not love so easily.

Not unless I trust myself first. Not unless I love myself more…illness and all.

Even if it takes me six or sixty years to do so, I will love myself first.