This last few weeks, months, years or whatever its been, have taken their toll on me, I can't deny it anymore.
Waking up on the wrong side of the bed every fucking morning is not what I want to do with the rest of my life.
Right now, I have some difficult choices to make, other than if I should go down the canyon to the doctor, that I know I have to do.
Thank Scooter for my cousin the other night, as I was in a mood, a frightening mood, even for me.
I had been screaming the night before about everything and nothing all at the same time. My cameraman actually handled it well, now he's not taking things personally and recognizing I get the way I get, because I'm not only bi-polar I'm in chronic pain.
The effort to get thru this became risky a week ago when I allowed my doctor to prescribe a steroid for me.
I've gotten very out of it on those, but I thought if I could keep my mind aware that I'm taking them, then I could control it.
I called my cousin the other day, why, I don't know, I didn't want to talk, I guess I wanted to breath into a phone like a perv.
She answered and knew instantly that I was fucked up in the head. She asked me a few questions like what kind of mood am I in.
"A bad one what do you fucking think?"
Then she asked when I was going to see the rheumotologist for the Lupus, and I told her this week.
She stepped in it next. "Do you have to go to Bakersfield."
That was enough to stop the heavy breathing.
"What the fuck do you think? Like we have a doctor here or something, what a fucking stupid question."
Good cousin. "You're right it was a stupid question. When was the last time you took the steroids, she slipped in at the end.
Oh yeah, duh.
"Do you think maybe that could have something to do with it?"
"Maybe," I said because I was still evil.
Thank you cousin, you are right.
For the rest of the night I kept telling myself, "don't forget you're on steroids."
Immediately my mood began to lift, not the it got much farther off than ground than they did at "KittyHawk", but it is better.
That's the awareness I keep talking about. Simply reacting to every thought you're going to probably regret someday is a bad place to be emotionally.
Being aware, still depressed and angry, I tell the negative thoughts that I know I really don't want that to happen or I don't "really" want to do that or say that.
It gets old though, as the pain is my other pain, I guess. It ramps up the mania like nobody's business. If I don't control that, I can't get sufficient control of me.
Now its the doctors turn. I need to hear something positive today, something that gives me hope. I need some hope that I can change this situation. That I can regain some of my health back and continue to work.
As I've discussed I would rather be dead than not working, but I'm half dead because of all the work I do.
For some reason I haven't studied Lupus yet, and really have no idea what sort of situation I'm in. My endocrinologist said I'm in an active phase.
I'm not active, but the disease is, and he attributes this to my weight loss, the rash on my neck that remains after three years, and the pain.
But the only potential problem I see is the medications they use to treat this: steroids is on top of the list. Unless you want to create a one woman army, a killing machine, I suggest we take this carefully.
There is another medication used to treat Malaria of all things, and I think that is what they will give me.
I get so many side effects, I'm a walking side effect of something.
I'm more than willing to risk myself in this way because the fact is I cannot live and won't live with this fucking pain and anorexia.
Then there's still in my mind that a medication I used for faxing, copying and scanning, Ativan, a benzodiazapine, may be a link to this mystery of why I suddenly lost weight, plagued with pain and fatigue issues.
It took one year to cut my previous dosage in half, and I still have a ways to go.
Scooter, I really hope you have something for me today, something that is positive, because I'm done with all of this.
I have a business in the making, and I am the most unreliable part of it. The owner/creator cannot be the weak link.
I've thought I'm just going to have to shut it all down before it really begins. I'll know today whether or not I have a good shot at getting well. I don't care about that shit where you live with things; bullshit.
That's not my plan. I'll do all I can to make this change, make it right, heal, be honest with myself completely, face my fears, and if that's not good enough then fuck off.
Sometimes, I lay in bed thinking I should be in a hospital. Then I realize that's where people get sick. And then stay sick.
I want to work, mainly because its the only thing I can control and even do.
I've had a particularly troublesome pain episode which doesn't want to go away.
A couple weeks ago I thought I would actually kill the pain. I take pain medication, which is strong and I'm sure horribly addictive, which pisses me off, but I never kill all the pain.
I only take enough to let the pain give the edge but not cut me or make me dysfunctional so that I cannot think and work.
But on this day, I really wanted to see what it would feel like without the pain and maybe get some good sleep.
So, I took my regular dose and doubled it. Then I decided to add more to that.
I sat in bed for an hour, when I suddenly realized, I didn't feel so terrible. In fact, I felt good. Instead of going to sleep, I was ready to go to work, and I even got up and cleaned up the house a bit.
But, reader you see the trap here don't you? I liked the four hours of being pain free, a little dingy, but basically okay. I would have to take a lot of pain medication to reach that state on a daily basis, and then I would build a tolerance. Thus not being able to live without my pain medication.
I don't think so. It's not in the plans.
Either we fix this, or I'll fix it myself. I hope that you see another blog from me, because I'm done fooling around, I need help. If there is none or there is some fraction thereof, I'll be quite serious: I'm not going to spend my days screaming in pain where my animals, my children, run from me.
They don't know it has nothing to do with them, the bird screams with me, the dogs bark and tear things up, and that cat looks at me with disdain.
So, I have to get my sorry ass up here, get dressed, and go to Bakersfield. Couldn't find a ride because the appointment was too quick, so I guess I'll be driving this again.
But I need to know, so I'm going to drag myself there, and hope for the best...