Here's the post that everyone's been waiting for. And I can't wait to get it out. Warning: It does deal with suicidal thoughts and the darkness that accompanies them.
Tuesday the 17th. Started out as an okay day. I didn't hurt all that bad, so I made a trip to get some stuff for around the house. I needed a new floor lamp for the living room, for some odd reason the last two lamps we've had in the living room all died. I wanted to start reading again so I did need a lamp. Found one at Wal-Mart for $8. And it's was green. It was cool. I was supposed to have a therapy appt that day, but she was sick, so we rescheduled. It was a month out. Alex had a vet appt, and it went great. Still hasn't lost any weight, but hasn't gained any either. Down to the ounce she has stayed the same the last few years. She also behaved very well for the vet. I was a very proud mommy.
So I get home, and later my brother Justin comes home. I asked him if he liked the lamp, and he went off on me how we didn't need another lamp, he had one in his room that we could have used. Then he goes off on how I can't buy anything for myself, that I take advantage of my dad for buying stuff. (Note: what I buy on the card I share with my dad is either house or med stuff, and I always have to submit receipts, and if something big is needed, I call and ask first). I say well, I can't work because I'm trying to get my health stuff figured out, and it was a FREAKING $8 LAMP! He really went off on how it didn't matter, so I counter well, what's your excuse for living off of dad when you can work or take out loans while you go to school. Oh, but it's not the same. THEN he lost it, dropping the f-bomb every other word while screaming at me, that my pain was in my head, that I just milk it so I don't have to do anything...you know, all the things us people with chronic illnesses love to hear. By this time I was bawling and then he left. I called my parents hoping they could talk to him, but they didn't want to get involved, and I don't blame them for that. Tho they also didn't realize how I was really falling apart in so many ways. How bad I was hurting physically and emotionally.
I bawled for an hour or so before I started seeing what friends I had in town were available. I finally got a hold of one. Andy. Remember, the ex? We've stayed friends, and talk via phone or text or facebook every once in a while, no hard feelings. He came and picked me up, and we went to check on his parents' cats while they were out of town. He and I caught up, laughed about the people we've dated since breaking up, and other odds and ends. Then I broke down again, and he held me while I cried. He is still the optimist, saying everything was going to work out, that I'd get back to work again, Justin was an ass, ect. So he calmed me down again, he dropped me off at home, and then I crawled into bed.
Things were okay, I was snuggling with Alex and listening to MASH, when I started crying again. And I could not stop. I hurt and my mood was nose diving again. Before I knew it I had my recently filled bottle of Lortab in my hand, wondering if I should just end it all. I even started composing a note in my head. I called my friend Sara, and I don't even know how long we talked, it was at least an hour or two. She just heard me out, understood why I wanted to just stop living, and talked me down, calmed me down, and got me to stop crying. She offered to drive the seven hours to get up to see me, to make sure I could get in to see a psych/therapist tomorrow, but I promised I would call in the morning, so that she wouldn't have to drive. I calmed down so I was able to sleep.
My phone ringing woke me up Weds morning. My therapist,was able to see me that day, instead of waiting the month that I was previously told. I couldn't believe it. So I get up, I hurt a lot, so opted for a bath instead of a shower. After sitting in the tub for a little bit, I started crying again. Crying turned into bawling. Before I knew it, I was trying to take apart my razor. Thankfully I knew Alex was outside the door, and that's the only thought I held on to.
I went to my therapy appt, and I fell apart on her. I told her everything that was happening, how much pain I was in, how it seemed like I wasn't getting any support from my family. She listened and asked if she thought I should be hospitalized, and I said I didn't know because I couldn't think straight, I had never been this bad before, and I just needed help because I was so tired of dealing with this.
She makes the phone calls, and before I know it I'm in the hospital. They took great care of me while they were settling me in. They asked if I was hungry, and I was, and they brought me some pasta. I had my own room, private bathroom, and was able to just hang out there while trying to wrap my head around everything that happened in the last 24 hours. I was able to rest/sleep the rest of the day. I can't remember what the brought me for supper, but I know it was another of my favorite foods.
My dad drove up to see me. He brought me some things from my place and then just sat and talked with me. We joked a lot, but at one point he started to cry because he "didn't want to lose me." Now I've only seen my dad cry a few times. I know once was the time his brother died, and the other was when we were in Washington DC and walking around the Vietnam Wall (we're a pacifist family, and it brought up a lot of memories for him about reading the paper and seeing the casualty numbers). We hugged and I told him not to worry, that I was going to get the help that I needed. He was proud of me that I was able to do that. Then we joked some more, and he brought up the movie "The Dream Team" which was about people in a mental hospital who were doing very well so they were able to get a pass for a baseball game, but then they lost their group leader and wandered around. So he asked if I wanted any baseball tickets, lol.
He brought me a phone card so I could let my friends know how I was doing. They took my cell phone away and there was no internet so I was totally disconnected. Tho they did let me copy down numbers from my phonebook so I could actually call people. So I let them know that I was safe and okay.
He left, and then I went to bed. I started crying again, and the poor guy who checked on me got to listen to me babble about how I just left Alex at home and she has no idea where I am, when I'm coming back, that she didn't get any wet food. I even showed him her picture.
The next day I met with the psych doctor, and he wanted to switch me from my Lexapro to Cymbalta, to help with the pain as well as depression. He also was going to rapidly increase my gabapentin for the fibro pain, instead of the snail slow increases I was instructed to do at home. I met with the psychologist, who understood why I wanted to end it, to be rid of the pain. He told me he had done work with lupus patients so he understood how interconnected pain and mood were.
I started making friends with the people there. I learned how to play rummy. I joined a group game called "A to Z" where you have to name off responses to the question on the card, and you get to check off the first letter of the answer, and the first team to get all the letters crossed off wins. For example, "things found in a makeup kit" so mascara would get "m." It was my turn to draw a card, and the question I read? "Things that make life worth living."
I kid you not.
We all look at each other silently, and then I broke the silence by asking the staff lady, "Really, you let us have this card?" We started laughing and then the game became really fun and silly. We needed an "N" and a "E" and so someone said "Nylons" and I offered "Elephants." Apparently they're not legit answers, but the elephant in nylons was born, along with the guys thinking about getting nylons to help them feel better about life.
A lot of us had similar demented senses of humor, so we really bonded. Esp me and two guys, they were hilarious. We were even able to get a plateful of bacon placed at our breakfast table one day. We opened up to each other, found out why we were there, how we were coping, ect.
My parents visited, and the first thing my mom said is that she understood how I just wanted my pain to end.
There were various groups that I attended, some one relaxation, some on coping skills, some to learn about the meds we were on. Very helpful.
I had a family meeting with my mom, dad, Justin, and the psych and the psychologist. We went over everything that brought me there (that was so hard, listening to the psychologist tell my parents how I was planning on killing myself). He talked to Justin and explained what I was going thru, and how he needs to realize that some things are just really sensitive to me and not to attack me with them. They told my parents the plan, that we switched my antidepressant and upped my pain meds, and they felt, as did I, that if we get the pain under control, I can use the coping/managing techniques, which were ineffective due to all the pain. It was a good, productive meeting. I had always tried to shield my parents from how horribly I was really doing, but now we were all on the same page. They could understand now as much as anyone looking in could.
My pain started becoming more manageable. They pretty much tripled the dosage of the gabapentin I was on. I was socializing with the others. I was helping others. I even read a book while there!
My two guy friends were discharged on Friday, but not before we exchanged numbers. I made new friends over the weekend. Something freaky happened too. The therapist intern I saw last spring? He was the psych for the weekend!
Matt came and visited me, and also was able to get me out on a pass Sunday afternoon so I could come home and see Alex. My parents were originally going to come in and bust me out for a bit, but my mom wasn't feeling well. So they had to call my parents and ask if Matt was "responsible" enough to take me out for a couple hours. Now considering we've had magical duels and have been known to throw shoes at each other in the office, and that one time he put me in a box while shipping, they deemed him responsible.
It was so nice to see Alex again! She didn't leave my sight, was very talkative, and very glad to see me. Matt and I talked and I said that I wanted to get back to work now that my pain was being controlled better. He said he'd totally work with me.
Monday I was released. Dad and Eli came to get me, and of course, Eli was teasing me about being in the loony bin, it was pretty funny. We went to go fill my Rx for the Cymbalta, and of course my insurance won't cover it. So I'm temporarily on Lexapro til my doctors can get an override. I can tell that the Cymbalta was definitely helping with pain, because since coming off of it, my pain has been up.
So that's what happened. I can't believe that it all happened. I am so much better now. Like night and day. Now I don't dread getting up in the morning. The pain does not consume me anymore. Sure I have bad flares once in a while, but I know they will pass, and the coping skills work again. I'm back at work for a few hours a day. I have the PS3 all updated. I am halfway thru a book. I cleaned the living room and kitchen. I'm hanging out with friends again. The friends I made there are keeping in touch, and we hope to get together again soon.
It sucks so much that it got to the point that I needed to be hospitalized, that I fell apart and kept free falling down and down and down, but I got the help I need, realized the things I need to do/work on, and now enjoy everything again.
I am very proud of myself.
