Sanity, Apparently, Is Fleeting

Once more it’s the up and down, the crash and bang of my mood smacking into the ceiling and then hurtling down into the basement.  In a matter of hours, minutes sometimes.  Too much emotional reactivity to things that probably don’t really matter, but seem SO important in the moment.

I am telling myself that this all has to do with being sick and isolated and off my game and away from work.  Because, I am NOT going to the hospital again, not now.  Someone, perhaps my therapist or maybe my sister, told me that extended illness could really mess with your mood.  Well, here is living proof.

Like a fool, I have been dredging up these memories of DSB.  You see, he was an ass, but I DO have some good memories of our time together.  And with those memories at the forefront, it’s hard to keep in mind all of the negative.  And it makes me think — where did our love go wrong?  Was it me and all my craziness?  Did I need too much, ask for too much?  Did he love me the most he possibly could and it just wasn’t enough?  Was he just that limited?  But more importantly — I think it was my fault.  It could have been, right?  I could  have made it work if I CHANGED him more.  How ridiculous, right?  Sadness will do that to you, make you think that way.

You see, I’m calling this sadness, and not depression, because the two are entirely different.  I’m still functioning — I just feel really crappy off and on.  I had a very nice evening yesterday with Mom and the Big Dawg.  I even ate some real food — steak and a baked potato.  It doesn’t get more real than that, right?  That should make me HAPPY, right?  It did, for a little while.

And then I got home and it was just me and the pup and I started to think about how excited Rascal would always be when you came home and how DSB was always, always waiting in the office with some trashy TV on to hear how it all went.  There isn’t anyone to tell how it all went when I get home now.  There isn’t anyone to kiss me goodnight or to nag at me to take meds or encourage me to get to bed.  The last voice I hear of the day now is Mom’s, or Dad’s, several hours before I go to bed, and while I know they love me dearly, it’s just not the same.

I got up in the middle of the night last night, and have on several other nights here lately, and was surprised that the light wasn’t on in the office.  Like I expected him to be there.  Why would I expect that or even want that?  I think this must be all  part of the grieving process, that I can’t believe I’m STILL going through.  If I look at it, though, it’s only been a little over two months that he’s been gone.

So is this normal?  Is this grief for DSB and a longing for someone to just be there?  Or is this madness brought on by all the medical problems I’ve had the last six weeks, not including the mental health issues toward the first part of that?  Maybe it’s both.  Whatever it is, I hate it.  Fucking hate it.  Half the time I feel like I’ve got it together and the other half I’m just falling apart.

Closer to the Edge

Being on Medicaid and all, a side effect of disability (at least until my Medicare kicks in), is not without a bit of pain.  Sure, it covers prescriptions (most) 100% and I don’t have an office visit copay.  I even have dental insurance (that doesn’t actually cover anything) and vision insurance (which gives me one pair of glasses a year).  In a lot of ways, Medicaid is a lot better than private insurance and I am in no way complaining about the system, overall.

With Medicaid, there is a short list of eligible providers.  When I moved up North of town, I ended up getting “lucky” and found a primary care physician in my neck of the woods, connected to the hospital that I use (or would prefer to use, if I needed one).  My doctor has a nice enough office, fairly friendly reception staff, and a good sense of humor.

About three months ago, I had a severe ear infection in both ears.  It was very painful and very obvious.  My doctor prescribed some sort of antibiotic and pain-relieving ear drops.  The pain went away after awhile, but my ears stayed “full.”  I couldn’t pop them and I couldn’t hear a damn thing.  That has become slightly better.

Here recently, I have continued on with having somewhat impaired hearing, and more than recently, have been experiencing severe pain.  DSB convinced me to go see my doctor, who we refer to as a quack.  Because, well, he is.  He writes prescriptions, and he’s pretty good at that, but otherwise, forget about it.  He basically totally missed DSB’s kidney cancer and his official diagnosis when DSB went in for chronic back pain was that DSB must have “wrenched” it.  We just shake our heads.

So, I went to see Dr. Quack today and told him about my problems with ear pain and problems hearing.  He looked, and I have “a lot” of fluid on my left ear, and no fluid on my right.  He said the fluid doesn’t look like it is infected, but that there is a lot of it.  He pressed around my ear and instigated cries of “oweee!” from me, and then leaned back and shook his head.

I know that look.  He has no idea what is going on.  I asked him what I could do to stop the pain and he says, “Stop eating and talking.”  Right, then.  He asked about taking a steroid for a bit and I declined, telling him that steroids aggravate my bipolar, or really, make me batshit crazy.  He started to tell me about his mother-in-law and how she acted on steroids (crazy), and then he said that she was different because I was “closer to the edge” than most people.

Wow.  It has become so hilarious that I don’t even get mad at this guy anymore.  It’s just funny.  Hopefully nothing too serious ever happens and I have to rely on him for a professional diagnosis.

So, bottom line.  Prescription for Naproxen, return in 4-6 weeks if not resolved, and stop eating and talking.  And, hey, watch for the edge, while you’re at it.