Sensory overload

Resident: "Hey Dr. S, I just finished doing charts, is it okay if I scrub in on your surgery?"

Me: "He's not the one that's going to be spread eagle on the table with his fucking vagina on display for everyone to see, shouldn't you be asking me if I will allow you to be in the operating room?"

Resident (peering around the curtain that blocked my view of her & Dr. S): "I'm so sorry, you're absolutely right. Would it be alright if I observed your surgery?"

Me: "NO."

By the time that exchange even happened I was already about to rip out the IV, get dressed and run out the front door. The area where they prep patients for outpatient surgeries at this particular hospital has absolutely no privacy. Each "room" was walled off by thin curtains on three sides. The aisle that ran down the middle was no wider than 5 feet, so not only could you hear every little detail about what was going on with the people in the "rooms" next to you, you could hear every little detail going on in all 18 of these "rooms".

You could hear the children crying, families chatting, nurses asking health histories, anesthesiologists consulting with patients, doctors explaining what each person was having done, machines bleeping, etc. There was so much noise I was having sensory overload and there was nothing I could do to block it all out. The result...a complete and utter meltdown, which included one of the worst panic attacks I've had in my life.

I was two seconds away from calling the whole thing off when they finally came to take me to the operating room. By then, my hands had gone completely numb and I kept asking the nurse if my fingers were still there. She tried to reassure me they were, but I couldn't get my mind to focus in on where I was and to look at my hands. I was starting to hyperventilate and about ready to pass out and/or throw up.

More than 24 hours have passed and I still feel over-stimulated. My mind is racing at what seems to be a million miles per hour, drawing my attention in so many different directions that I can't grasp onto a single thought for more than a few seconds. The rage that has been kicked up as a result of the storm in my head has been unbearable. I cut the hell out of myself last night, but it offered no relief. Today I'm going to resort to chemical interventions in hopes of making all this stop. I can't take it any longer.

A random stranger

I noticed that I kept thinking about my therapist quite a bit yesterday. The new one, Ms. M, that I haven't mentioned much. Talking to her is like talking to a random stranger on a bus who happens to over hear you thinking out loud to yourself about how hot the weather is or how slow traffic seems to be moving. They respond to your comment and suddenly you're drawn into small talk. You refrain from revealing anything personal about yourself because you don't know this person and chances are, you will probably never cross paths with them ever again.

That's how I feel each time I walk into my T's office. Like she's a random stranger I make small talk with and someone who I will probably never see again once our session is over. There is no feeling of permanence to her presence. Despite her office being decorated with personal items like photographs, she doesn't yet have her name on her door like everyone else. She doesn't have personalized business cards yet. Her voice mail isn't even properly set up with a personal greeting.

Given how swiftly my last therapist left, without any advance warning at all, I'm afraid this woman is going to leave too or be asked to leave when the typical new employee grace period of 90 days is up. She'll just disappear one day without explanation. My natural response, given that I sense this is merely a temporary relationship, is to resist trying to form any sort of attachment to her. Remain at a safe emotional distance rather than risk feeling abandoned yet again.

Knowing I'm deliberately keeping her at arm's length and behind my safety barrier might explain why it feels so empty to talk to her, but I keep wondering if I'd even connect with her if I allowed myself to try. She seems so...dry, for lack of a better word. Or maybe indifferent is a better description. Like I mentioned here back in May, she seems to lack a genuine desire to help people, or at least to help me. I find that very troublesome because I've never encountered it before. Even the worst of the therapists I've had in the past at least came across most of the time as truly wanting to help, even if they failed miserably at it.

Anyway, tomorrow is my surgery and hopefully all will go well. I don't expect there will be any complications other than the usual anesthesia one where they are unable to wake me afterward. That's just par for the course though, so I'm used to it. As for my dental problem, the pain is so severe I didn't sleep at all last night. I had to see my primary doctor today and she said there is an infection in the tooth that is severe enough that it has caused the lymph nodes in my neck to swell. She said that is why the Darvocet doesn't feel like it has been working. So I'm now on antibiotics four times a day for the next 10 days. Joy. I feel like I'm starting up my own pharmacy over here.

Brief reprieve

Finally, a brief reprieve. I called the gyne, explained the situation and he called in a script for Darvocet. I only just took the first pill about 10 minutes ago, so I don't know if it's going to alleviate any of my pain, but hopefully it will do something. If I'm still hurting in half an hour, I can take a second one if need be. I vaguely remember being on this after one of my surgeries, but that was a few years back and I can't recall if it worked or not.

I also broke down and scheduled the root canal, because there is no way I'm going to lose a tooth and have a hillbilly gap in my mouth. Even if that means I go without food and can't pay my cellphone bill and car insurance this month, so be it. I'm NOT losing a tooth. Monday was the soonest they could get me in, which is what prompted the call to the gyne. The pain has gotten so intense that I can't think straight.

Last night I was in such bad shape from the pain, from the PMDD, from the stress, that I did pull out the razor. The urge to keep cutting and cutting was overwhelming, but I resisted temptation and kept damage to a minimum. It was cut or resort to much more drastic measures. I'm giving myself credit for choosing the lesser of two evils.

I really hope the Darvocet works. Before all this pain, I managed to read not only Prozac Nation, but I also got through Ella Minnow Pea in just a couple of hours and I followed that up by quickly reading Animal Farm by George Orwell. I'd really like to be able to concentrate so I can continue to read more. The next book I've decided to tackle is The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho.

Being punished

I'm being punished with this pain, with all this stress, I just know I am. I know that I'm cursed. The problem is, I'm not sure exactly why. Why have I been selected to suffer day in and day out? Even when I try to bring some happiness into my life, I get a reality slap that lets me know that happiness is for others to experience, not me. Why? Why can't I be happy and be allowed to enjoy it for more than a day or at most, a week?

Is it because I took my daughter on vacation to see her grandma and spent money I'd diligently saved? Money that I probably should have used to finalize my divorce, even though that would have meant choosing to place my daughter's need to see her grandma second to the rat fucking bastard sperm donor.

Is it because I refuse to subscribe to the theory that psychotropic medications are helpful?

Is it because I'm a useless fucking human being that's continually a burden on others? Even when I try to be as self-sufficient as my sick mind will allow, I still know I'm dependent upon others in various ways, like needing someone else to provide a roof over my head because I can't afford a place of my own.

Or is it simply because this is my life. This has always been my life. If I'm not desperately hurting in some way, a curve ball is thrown my way to make sure I do hurt, in every way imaginable, all at the same time.

I'm grasping at straws trying to figure this out. It doesn't make sense. I didn't do anything wrong. I've been a good person. Yet I'm the one that gets saddled with all the pain, continuously. It never ends, and probably will never end as long as I try to remain alive.

And since I didn't need any more misery on my plate right now, I of course got shoveled another load of it. The dentist says I need a root canal, which insurance doesn't cover. So unless I can pull $500 out of my ass, I'm in pain until who the fuck knows when because all she said she could prescribe was Tylenol 3.

I decided to go with my own $20 temporary fix...Jack Daniels. I'll just drink myself into oblivion. Won't be long before I can't feel a damn fucking thing.

I hate life.

It's still pouring

During the pre-op testing and registration, the nurse tells me that I need to stop taking the ibuprofen and naproxen.

"What do you propose I take for this excruciating toothache and for my cramps from hell??"

"You can take Tylenol."

"And if Tylenol doesn't work for me? Am I just supposed to suffer?"

"You could call and ask the dentist or your gyne for some Tylenol 3."

I just look at the woman and think, am I talking to myself here? Didn't I just say that Tylenol doesn't work? Just cuz it has some codeine in it, doesn't change the fact that the main ingredient is friggan Tylenol.

And still it pours some more....

After the pre-op testing, I get in the car and call my dentist.

"I'm sorry, he no longer takes Medicaid."

"What?!? I just saw the guy."

"As of June 30th, he no longer accepts your insurance. I can have him call in a prescription for the pain until you can find another dentist though."

"No thanks, I'll just suffer. Apparently that is what the gods are demanding I do and far be it for me to interrupt their plans."

Life is just a series of very, very cruel jokes. I'm sorry, but I for one am not laughing.

It always has to pour

Given that I'm old-er, you'd think I'd have suffered from numerous toothaches in my lifetime. Most people I know in my age bracket have mouthfuls of fillings and other dental work. I guess you could say I was blessed in the dental department because I've never had much of a problem with my teeth until, that is, the introduction of psychotropic meds into my life.

This is not just another feeble attempt on my part at making an excuse to go off these poisons, though I will add it to the growing list of evidence that the drugs actually do more harm than good. A link between psychotropic meds and oral complications has been clearly documented and it's not solely due to lack of proper hygiene and care in patients that are mentally ill. A big contributing factor is that many of the medications used to treat mental illness cause dry mouth. Without adequate saliva, your teeth are much more prone to tooth decay and other problems.

I'm currently trying to endure the pain of the second toothache I've ever had in my lifetime (yes, I've only had two of them), one that came on very suddenly and is caused by a cavity that was not there when I had my teeth cleaned a month ago. To combat the pain that started on Friday (it would be just my luck that it would happen over a holiday weekend), I've been downing ibuprofen and naproxen like candy. I've also been using ice and an oral anesthetic to numb the area, with little success. The most relief I got was yesterday when I was at my sister's house, drinking heavily and distracted from how much pain I was in. Unfortunately, the pain was so severe today that nothing provided any relief.

I just really hope I can get in to see my dentist tomorrow and they can work around my schedule, which already includes pre-op testing for my surgery this coming Friday and therapy appointments for both me and the kiddie. There is absolutely no way I can tolerate this pain any longer.

Oh and just to make my life even more miserable, cuz with me it never just rains, it always has to pour...I got my period today. Can I please just die already? Please?