Home Again

I got home from the hospital yesterday. I was able to get a bed in the hospital in which my doctor works. They made a few changes, split a dose and I was given time on my own to sort through a tremendous bag of thoughts that had my mind jammed.

The nurses were great. I was able to really talk to one of them about things going on with me.

I made lists:
This I believe...(admitting my true beliefs in God and religion)
self image
Future plans (to keep me engaged and safe)
Things to look forward to in my move
Things that I normally find interesting and enjoyable

I was given the time to work on these lists and talk some things over. I'm thankful to my insurance company for allowing me to stay at Burlington. But don't let me get started on insurance. The night before I went in I talked to my behavioral health counselor on my insurance plan. I really don't know If I was approved to stay there, but no one tried to kick me out early.

One thing I used to do that made me happy was when I took walks during my lunch hour in Carthage Illinois. I would walk around the neighborhood looking at all of the different houses and pick one I really liked, write down the address, buy a Dairy Queen gift certificate and later that day make them a certificate for "house of the day" and send them the $1 gift certificate with their award. It was exercising, creative, fun, annonymous and giving. It sure made me feel good. So I stopped at the Y on my way home from Burlington to pick up my walking shoes to start taking walks again. It has been 9 weeks since I got sick and not able to go to the Y. But the sun is out, it was 71 degrees yesterday. I will get back into exercising by walking around to do the "house of the week." instead of day. I got a $5. gift card to Hardees and will put that in an envelope with the activation receipt to the address that is my favorite. That will be fun and will take my mind off of me.

Ready for round 15

Going to the hospital

I called my psychiatrist. Tomorrow I will go to the hospital. I'll make it through the night. Two beds are to open up in the morning and my doctor will talk to the emergency room staff. My meds are not working. I should have seen a difference before I left the hospital in Clinton, but so many meds were changed. my anti-depressant isn't working. I called my nearest hospital and there were no beds available. My last entry about choosing life I have had to do over and over and over again. It is hard to feel that pull and know there is nothing you can do about it. Prayer is my only solace.

If you read this, pray for me.

I will write soon.

I Chose Life Today

Right now I would like to go out to our back shed and punch my arm through a double paned window! My depression is hurting so much.

I just had a friend say to me, Well, you know Dr. Oz and the other people on talk shows say you just have to get up and keep on doing something when you feel sorry for yourself or it will get worse.

I have been spending my time on my knees, reading good books, painting trim, visiting my daughter and I said something out loud. I said, "I had a room mate who asked "don't you think if we just think happy thoughts all of this depression would go away?" and I was this close to punching her."

I am sick of people with the belief that severe clinical depression is brought on by self will. I'm sick of people not understanding the difference between feeling down and having a chemical imbalance in the brain! I'm sick of medication! Things that don't work! I'm sick of feeling like a load of crap and someone wanting me to stop because it puts them out! Too bad! This is not a choice. I have a choice to make and I choose life as gut wrenching as it is at this moment!!!!!!!

Praise Be to God

I'm feeling good! Thank God and Praise Him!

There are some feelings that I don't want to voice because that gives power to them, but I haven't been doing well (obvious to those who read this).

Today I have an appointment with my psychologist. I think I am going to start spacing them out. I am too much in my own head. It is good to have a sounding board, but more important to be active and involved with others. One is a lonely number.

Being here by myself working on the house, etc gives me too much time alone. A friend invited me to come over for dinner tonight. I think I will.

Most of my physical symptoms are gone from my other illness, and the pain of depression is gone for the moment.

I started reading the book, Positive Thinking for a Time Like This by the author of The Power of Positive Thinking Norman Vincent Peale. Talking about fear and giving yourself over to God. Great book! I've been a worrier but am working on it. Pastor Peale said, "I found that a basic factor in living without fear is to hold and practice the simple belief that God will take care of you."

I know that God lives and is aware of my needs. Last night I imagined Him walking past me as I knelt and I tried to grasp His ankle for Him to slow down and stay with me for a while. I plead for the green pastures and still water and for Him to restore my soul. I slept well last night. It is true.

Today is Going to be a Good Day

Mornings are the best time of day.

I used to sleep through them constantly tired. That was when I would stay up all night doing projects. Now I get to bed by 9:00. I guess that is what happens when you get older. I can still stay up late put by 9 I'm ready for sleep to free me and give me another new start.

This morning I am feeling pretty good. Just ate some Ghirardelli intense dark chocolate. That can only make you feel good! I'm ready for the day. I expect to get a lot done today but I take it moment by moment. It is nice to have moments of hope and cheer. The birds are singing, our daffodils are on the verge of blooming and I have trim up in the remodeled bathroom. I have a lot of painting to do today so I will attack it.

I haven't gone to my knees this morning for guidance and support but I will as soon as I finish here. I had to tear out my last hand-written journal entry and rip it up. I am looking for peace in the place that has been a source for so long and that is my Savior. All things are possible through Him. Today is going to be a good day.

Just Thoughts

Positive thinking.

I spent quite a while this morning writing out positive gifts and things from God. Cherries, Blackberries, pinecones, the sunshine, cats. Then I listed gifts that God has given me, talents of music and art, writing and the Spirit. I know that God is over all and that Christ is my Savior and the only name by which I can return to my Heavenly Father.

I've been going through a crisis on top of my depression, or maybe my depression is a result of my crisis. Either way I must find positive things to get me through.

Yesterday Bob and I finished buying the supplies needed to finish our projects...Almost. One more thing, a section of privacy fencing. Anyway...I bought him a plant. When we were first married we had an ivy plant that lived for eight years. I got him an ivy and sent it back with him to his apartment to have some living thing around to look after.

I think maybe I am adjusting to my meds, I hope so.

So I am concentrating on getting jobs done around the house, trying to think positively, looking forward to our move and the opportunity to go on TrueHope again.

Importance of Imagination

I just woke up from a really nice dream. I was visiting the home I grew up in and ended up doing mundane things like the dishes, seeing my brother and watering plants out in the back yard.

When I was a kid I was a definate Tomboy. I loved playing in the dirt, pretending to be Daniel Boone or Davy Crocket. In my dream I felt that imaginative feeling again, I can't remember when I last felt that way. In my dream I decided that the next day I was going to turn my back yard into a park. Something that my imagination of a ten year old would think to do. I was excited about it. I don't remember being excited about anything creative for a long time unless it was associated with income. I was excited about something purely fun.

In my dream, while I was washing the dishes, my dad got home. He was in his 40's, just home from work and he came up to my side and I turned and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He was clean shaven with brown hair, not the white hair and beard he grew older with. I woke up with a feeling of adventure, not dread, and while it is about 4:30 in the morning I knew I had to write this down before the feeling left.

Once I was given a prescription to do something creative every day. Now I know that I have to do this. There are some other changes I need to make, but this is one that will be a welcome change. I have a great imagination when I can access it. So even though I am working on the house I need to remember the importance of a playful imagination. What a respite. I'm going back to bed.

A Hellish Week

I got home from a week in the psych unit aka behavioral medicine. I received a follow-up phone call from my insurance company with a short survey. I answered questions about the quality of care, meds, environment and didn't have a very favorable view. As the survey went on the gal on the phone asked why I was not satisfied with such and such. Finally I told her the whole story...

I needed medication adjustment but there were no beds available at the nearest hospital so I was transported by ambulance three hours north. I arrived and once I started talking about my concerns I became flooded with emotion to where I could not open my eyes and was crying like rain. After documenting all of my meds I was given a bed. It was 3:00 a.m. I had taken Ambien before getting to the hospital with my regular nighttime meds and slept in the ambulance but once I was at behavioral medicine I was wide awake and stayed that way.

In the morning I couldn't eat. My bathroom door was locked and I needed to ask a CNA or nurse to open it. It was locked for safety reasons. I couldn't eat breakfast, there was a feeling of a hole in my stomach. I cried.

One of the other patients was in a manic phase of bi-polar and was loud and talking fast greeting everyone and trying to cheer people up.

The doctor and his nurse with her computer came to my room. We discussed my meds. He wanted to give me Trazadone for sleep whereas my doctor had just prescribed Ambien. I didn't want to go on Trazadone because I had been on it for a long time in the past. I just needed something temporary. The doctor made no notes and the nurse kept finding herself on another patient's screen. That must have been where my prescription for Geodon ended up.

I saw the MD about some of my physical pain that I have been fighting and told him that I had a cold and could I please have some throat lozenges.

I got my morning meds at about 2:30 in the afternoon. I was sitting in the tv lounge area with the door closed so I wouldn't hear the girl pacing the hall, faster and faster and jamming her head into the door at the end of it, harder each time. Security was called and they took her away somewhere after a shot of Halidol.

I was informed that I was getting a roommate. She turned out to be a very young-looking 76-year-old sweetheart who had a problem with her memory and was taking Aricept. She was later diagnosed with dementia.

A new patient showed up that evening. She was irate about something, getting louder and louder, wanting to see the doctor. She had been given a medication that she never took because she claimed to be allergic to it, asking for Halidol. She had a heart condition at 40. Since she had already been given something the nurses informed her that she couldn't have anything else. Her roommate had been in the unit for 9 days and was sick. She was the loud manic from breakfast. She had diarreah, vomiting and rectal bleeding and her bathroom door was locked. She wanted to see a doctor but was denied throughout the day and by nighttime the two of them were out in the hall swearing loudly at the nurses.

When I got my nighttime meds I was not given Geodon and given Trazadone instead of Ambien. Throat lozenges were not ordered due to some mixup so the nurse got me a cup of ice chips to suck on. I never got to sleep. My head was pounding from the shouting.

The second morning I got up at 7:00. I had been awake nearly 30 hours. Each time the nurses had come during the night for "checks" with a flashlight I had been sitting up, or else I waved at them to let them know I was still awake as they told me to do. I sat in the lounge area waiting for my morning meds exhausted and depressed when my room mate asked me what was wrong. "I've been up for 30 hours, I am in pain and I have a headache." She said, "Why do you care how many hours you have been awake? Don't you think that if you just had some good thoughts all of this would go away?" Surely wishful thinking on her part.

Each phone call from my husband brought tears. I didn't think I would ever feel better. I'm still not 100 percent. He did come to see me from where he was working and came home the next weekend as well.

I realized that I am so lucky. What a wonderful man I am married to. After his visit, Tim, a CNA leaned into my ear and told me, "you're a lucky woman." I said, "I know, he is an incredible man." To deal with me and my depression for so long. I need to hang on so I can move and get to a new place where I can go back on TruHope.

Meanwhile, back at the ward, an elderly woman with a disfigured body but a sharp mind was there with a walker and could not get comfortable. She explained that she needed serotinin to help her function. I am not sure what her condition was but it appeared to be cerebral palsey. That night she had a cardiac arrest and the rapid response team needed to be called. The nurses had to make the call more than once. She was taken from the unit in the middle of the night. I don't know the outcome, but it didn't sound good when the nurses were talking about it in the morning. I had come out in the hallway during the event in the middle of the night so I knew some of what was going on. I don't know if she survived or not, but she had had a cardiac arrest. Her name was Teresa.

The next day I asked if I could take pages out of some of the magazines in the tv room to use for a collage. My own form of art therapy. We were told in the unit rules that we would have "group" each day and that we would be expected to attend.
We had one "group" where we saw a video about making the most of life. It was good. I got a lot out of it. But that was the extent of it. This time I decided to keep to myself, do what the doctor said, tried not to get involved with other patients' issues to protect myself. I'm kinestetic and empathetic. I can feel pain from others and I was overloaded as it was. My room mate and the manic wanted to do collages too. My room mate kept putting herself down saying how she couldn't do anything as good as I could. I then found out that she does Italian cut work, is a great cook, baker and keeps a clean house. I tried to turn it around and say, "what if the only thing to do here was Italian cut work? All of us would be talking to you in the same way you are talking to me." That made her feel better.

That night one of the patients attempted suicide and was not allowed personal clothing and was shot with Halidol and put in iscolation. She was not allowed phone calls nor visitors. Security came in again.

That night the manic patient was irate, she was shot with Halidol. Another patient had a migraine and was vomiting and ended up on her bedroom floor. She had already had a shot of Halidol but got a second one before bed. I don't know, but in all my hospitalizations I have never seen anyone get one shot of Halidol, and this seemed to be how everything was managed. Later that night my manic friend started accusing the nurses of taking her personal things and there was a "Code Yellow" called and security came. I don't know what a code yellow is.

By the fifth day or so I felt the knife come out of my heart and started feeling better. I had a "team meeting" the day before with my psychiatrist, his nurse, the social worker and a CNA to help with my treatment plan. I addressed again the need for throat lozenges and the doctor said, "Why is there a problem, we ordered those?" It had been three days and I was still using ice chips. The Geodon got figured out by the second night. I needed some benedryl for my cold but though they gave it to me one of the nurses told me that she thought, even though she wasn't a doctor and had no right to say it, that she thought I was "polysubstance abusive" because I had been like a zombie the first two days. That made my day. I tried to explain that I was distraught and overwhelmed. Maybe she's right. Who knows, I'll take it up with my doctor.

So, between two suicide attempts, once cardiac arrest, security called four times, a code yellow, yelling in the halls, locked bathrooms (my room mate had diarreah also), many medication mixups reported, nurses too busy to address anything, no groups, widespread dissatisfaction and overall misery I did make a formal complaint through my insurance company. When I filled out a survey at the end of my stay at the hospital, the last question was, "would you recommend this facility to anyone else?" I said, "I think I'll leave this one blank."

The worst experience I've had to date with psych medicine. I will think long and hard about entering an atmosphere such as this ever again.

Two Lists

I just got out of the hospital after having my meds adjusted. I went in to be safe. With my illness which includes recurrent depressive episodes this is just something that comes with the territory. I decided to make two lists: one is a list of things to do or think about when I am bored, worried or depressed; the other is a list of reasons to hang on.

List one:

Bored? Worried? Depressed? Things to ponder...

Book, the museum collection which I am writing; pack something or do something for the house; write a letter; remember how much my husband loves me; how much I love my husband; how much I love my daughter; the fact that my daughter and her husband are happy, name as many friends as I can, think of all of my blessings and gifts, work on my book:Silent Witness; write goals for the future; think of my husband and I being together again; spend time playing with my cat, read scriptures, go to the Library, take a walk, work out, call a friend.

List two:

Reasons...
This feeling though it feels like it will never end is temporary. This is God's way of refining...absorb it, embrace it, it will go away. The sun will shine again in my soul. Jesus bled from every pour. You can do this. Think of Bob and Heidi, it will never end for them if you do this, it will never end for you if you do this. You will laugh again. There is a reason for everything, even being ground to powder. You are so much better off than so many others. God didn't give you your talents and abilities to end them this way. The Lord is your shepherd, you shall not want, He leadeth you beside the still waters and you lay down in green pastures. He resotreth you soul. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow you all the days of you life and you shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. His rod and His staff they comfort you. ..Spend the day on your knees and look to God. He is always with you. The house will sell, you and Bob will be together again. There is new treatment and you will be able to endure the change. Iowa City will find a cure for your other pain. There is light at the end of the tunnel. The tunnel is shorter than you think. There is no profit in an empty stable. You must turn yourself toward others but be true to God. Hug Missy. Visit Heidi, Go to the Y. You are a bit of clay...crushed to powder...submit to be molded. Collect yourself and DO things. Study. Make something for someone and visit them. Do as Christ has done and do it quietly. Pray for a happy countenance. pray for correct medication. Do what you must do religiously. He knocks, open it and live. Do not fear...that is of the adversary. Live and love. Visit the fatherless and widows. Take your eyes off of yourself. As for the house, do what needs to be done, a little bit at a time. Sing praises. Never forget that God loves you and is over ALL!

Doing Okay

The sun is shining and I am feeling okay. It happens so rarely, always waiting for the other shoe to drop wondering if I will possibly live through the next bout on my own.
So today, this moment I feel okay.

I bought a sleep aid today earlier to have on hand when the pain which is akin to intense grief that doesn't come in waves but persists. I actually had to explain to my psychiatrist what pain I was referring to when I told him about my curling up on the couch crying. He asked if it was my fibromyalgia... I don't have fibromyalgia. I had to explain this pain to a man who is an MD specializing in psychiatry what psychological pain feels like.

That was amazing. I think I might print out some of my experiences for him to read to understand what MY depression feels like.

Just had some cocoa and Lorna Doone cookies. The bathroom is 80% done and I have running water again! I think I'll go cuddle with my husband while I have the chance.

No One is Exempt

Today I had an appointment with my psychiatrist. I'm stable so far today. I saw a few things that brought me outside of myself. When in depression it can feel all-encompassing, but today I glimpsed out and was richly blessed.

As I started my walk across the parking lot of the medical center I walked near a car where an elderly woman was dragging her legs into a car at the handicapped space. She was using her left hand grabbing her left leg to situate it. The effort made me feel slight guilt at my gait. Because I was early I walked to the plaza where the gift shop was. As I was walking in a slightly older woman walked out talking on her cell telling someone of a prognosis and that she just wanted to let them know how it was going.

As walked toward Mercy Plaza a man carrying two prostetic legs crossed my path.

I got to my appointment and noticed my doctor's face had slid to one side. He explained that he had gotten Bells Palsey telling me how the right side of his face is paralyzed and since he couldn't close his eye he had to watch as a doctor sewed his eyelid shut. Amazing.

I came up for a gurgle.

Then I met a friend at the gas station who had just arrived back in town from attending her father's funeral.

I got on facebook and saw that my sister-in-law who was in Amsterdam broke her ankle and was given pain medication and was getting a cast put on so she could make her flight back to Athens.

I called my daughter and told her that if I hadn't mentioned it before, that she and my husband were everything in the world to me.

No one is exempt.

A Long Life

I am convinced now that vitamins and minerals are the way to go. I'm still fighting illness and have six people and/or groups assigned to different projects in my house to try to sell it. I'm in authentic depression where the pain hurts so bad I wish it could stop my heart. But it doesn't.

This road of psychotropic drugs is in itself depressing. I'm addicted out of pure necessity of survival. At times I feel totally spent, with no energy to even walk from one room to another. I went to see my husband this past weekend and had to call my doctor's office on the way because I was heading further into depression. I spent my evenings with my head on my husband's lap, curled up in a ball weeping. I came home Monday morning, my best time of day, because I didn't know if I could make it driving home on Wednesday. I told someone of my pain and how I wished I could die because of it rather than live with it. They questioned my pain, what kind of pain? Physical. Mental. All of it. I have no appetite but know I must eat for my drugs to be effective.

I pray that once I get settled into a new home (whatever that might be) that I will have the strength to withstand the temporary depressions that come with withdrawal. It has to be better than med adjustments.

I'm fully aware that what is happening in my home can cause feelings of depression. There is a difference in feeling unable to cope and having severe depression. A few nights ago I was trying to figure out the best month to end it. I decided I didn't want to do it this year since I gave my husband a "Calendar Girl" calendar of myself on each month. I don't want him seeing my face on a month that I don't exist. This is in itself improvement I guess, I am thinking of how this would affect someone else and that is a step forward.

Now that I am on the course of psych meds I will continue this blog because I know that I never felt this bad while going through that transition. This is a long life.