Come outside, Love

My dog is dying.
Six weeks ago we took him to the vet as he was slightly off his food, and two days later he was diagnosed with a highly malignant multi-centric lymphoma. Since then he has been having chemotherapy, which entails taking him to the vets each week for an injection of vincristine, and treating him at home with prednisolone and cyclophosphamide.

I hate going to the vet.

Today they told me I should wait outside the building if my dog is going to bark so much - we were thinking Hurrah! He is barking again! What a joy to hear him when he has been quiet for so long. They then proceeded to examine him, and not say one word to me about how he is - is his heart rate ok? Have the tumours gone down? Does it look like the chemo is working? Nothing.
Frankly, the state going to the vets gets ME in, it is no wonder my dog barks. He doesn't like it when I am upset. I don't know why they do it - do they really have no people skills at all? Is that why they become vets in the first place?
If it was a human being treated for cancer and receiving chemo, I am sure their treatment would be more sympathetic. Ok, so he is a dog, but I think it should be better if for no other reason than I am paying a lot of money for this treatment every week.

To be fair, they are not all bad. There is one vet there that I like. He smiles at my dog, and ruffles his fur. It's not a lot to ask, but it makes a huge difference. That is why, when the time comes for us to say goodbye, I want him to be the one that's there. We have decided we want to say goodbye at home - I am not standing outside with my dog while I wait for what is without doubt going to be one of the worst moments of my life.

And if he can't do it, then I shall take my business elsewhere.

 This is not my dog. But this picture makes me smile :)

Do as you would be done by

Well, I can't possibly fill you in on everything that has gone on, so I'll just begin with Where I am Now.
I have tickets to Hard Rock Calling this weekend (being a lifelong Paul Simon fan - my first record was Bridge Over Troubled Water) but I won't be going. I am very upset about it. Suffice to say I needed some help with the planning etc, and it was not forthcoming.

What do I learn from this?

You can't trust anyone accept yourself.

So when I saw the psychologist yesterday and he said to me "It may be that you have trouble trusting people..." I didn't argue with him. My experience is that you can't trust people - people are only out to help themselves.

I think it sucks.

I think if people gave just a little thought to others then the world would be a much nicer place.

Recently I bought two (separate) items from eBay, both of which were sold as genuine, and both of which turned out to be fakes. Yet when I try to list a perfectly legal unopened DVD, I get a huge warning about selling copies. Do other people not see it? Or do they just not care?
The psychologist says I need to toughen up, and be like everyone else. But I'm not sure I want that. Why would I want to be cynical and heartless?
I think I will stay as I am thanks.

And just move to a remote log cabin in Canada.

Log Cabin courtesy of holiday-rentals.co.uk

Toe in the water

Well, after an hour and a half of recovering lost accounts, password brain-wracking and (I have a nasty feeling) attempting to access the account of someone else's blog, I may be back...

Attention Deficit

My psychiatrist has waved around a new diagnosis of ADD -- Attention Deficit Disorder.

I had to fill in a questionnaire, and I have to say that it did feel a lot like me -- interrupting when people speak, forgetting things, losing things, etc -- and my psychiatrist analysed my answers and he says I definitely have attention deficit features (but not hyperactive features).

And he wants to treat me with methylphenidate (Ritalin) without going through my GP, who, he says, will have a hard time accepting the diagnosis of adult ADD, and the prescription is going to cost me about £80 for a months trial. God bless the NHS I say.

It is only a trial so I might just stump it up, but I don't like doing it behind my GP's back. He's been good to me. And I'm scared stiff of the possible side effects of this med -- my heart has misbehaved in the past...
But I want to get better and he says it might help the depression...

Watch this space.

***

In other news, number two daughter is just back from my mother.

I say my mother, but it turns out that she has disowned me.

That hurts.

She said I pushed her away and after that she just thought of me as adopted, and not her real daughter.

I guess I have a lot of stuff to think about tonight.

Bipolar Headache

It's 5am in the morning and I can't sleep.

I was already having trouble when I decided to take two Abilify (my usual dose -- I'd just been laying off them lately), and now I have an absolutely blinding headache which I think is the result of too much dopamine or something. Flashing lights, pains in my temples -- the works.

So much for sleep.

***

In other news, I have decided to cancel my membership to MDF The Bipolar Organisation. Their last magazine had a picture from a TV soap on the front, which always has nasty little story lines about a bipolar character. Clearly the MDF support Eastenders depicting the character in this way, and I think that sucks.

The latest story line really upsets me, and I think they have gone too far, so I am canceling my membership as soon as they open in the morning.

Nothing to see here

Yesterday was the eighth anniversary of my dad's death, and I got through it unscathed.
I remembered him, as always, fondly and with love.
But I do that every day.
The anniversary just comes with the painful memories of me screaming the place down as the police told me he was gone...

And, also, he who left me's birthday yesterday too. But I blog that coincidence crap every year.

***

In other news, kids are driving me up the wall. Even the one who doesn't live here is putting in her two-penny worth, with her personal dramas.
And number two daughter has a psychological assessment on Monday, to see if she needs any help or not.
I think they will say she is just a bit of a drama queen too.

Can't imagine where they get it from.

***

I have been in correspondence via email with the Samaritans for a number of days now, as I wanted somewhere to discuss my rather bad case of fear -- I seem to be terrified of everything.
But they have turned it into a discussion about suicide, and now I feel worse than ever -- I didn't realise how well-formed my plans were until now.

I think if I had a gun I'd be dead right now.

Way to go Samaritans.

Marsh Mallow

My son turned 16 yesterday, and I bought him a bag of Marshmallows and a big bar of chocolate, and a bottle of Coke. He was very happy.
He didn't want drugs and alcohol like some teenagers would -- just sweets and pop.
He's a good boy.

***

In other news, I am feeling very low.

So low, I may have to phone my psychiatrist for an emergency appointment.

My thoughts of suicide are getting more frequent and more detailed, and I'm finding them harder and harder to cope with.

It hasn't been helped by someone's blog post about he who left me -- a mundane post about his emails -- but never the less a post that shows his life happily goes on as normal, with friends and emails and blah. When my life seems to be completely taken over with trying to sort my head out.

I said to him one time, when he first suggested that I get help, that I had been down that road before and it would end badly. Leave it alone, I said; I'm better off left alone.

I should have listened to myself; way back when I still had a life, I should have listened.
Now I can't go out, have no friends, and live with a constant, debilitating fear of everything. It's horrible. That's not to mention the handfuls of pills I have to take each day.

Life is not fun.

I'm not sure where the fear comes from -- I think it's a fear of all the things I should have learned to deal with since childhood, that I actually dealt with in a hypomanic haze rather than really mastered, and now I have to cope with them all at once, with my hypomanic defences stripped away.
I'm somewhat like a child living the life of a forty-something.

So life, for me, is not fun.

I don't know the answer, at the moment.
I just know that without someone to hold my hand, the world seems very bleak.

Weighty Issue

Since I started on the thyroid pills, my weight has slowly but surely been creeping back on again.

It's not surprising -- I'm hungry all the time, and forever running to the kitchen for a snack.

So far I've put on over 20 pounds, and it has to stop.

At the moment I'm trying to drink a cup of green tea every time I feel hungry.

Lets see how crazy scheme number 3472 pans out.

It's snow joke

I'm currently writing this from one of the only places in the UK that doesn't have snow, and consequently one of the only places that hasn't fallen apart.

I feel left out.

***

I spoke to my psychiatrist today and we discussed my lack of CPN support. He has said that he will write to the local day centre and confirm that he will provide back up if required, so I might give that a go.

He has also increased my anti-psychotics in a hope of decreasing my anxiety and improving my low mood. He suggested some Valium but I told him that they don't help much (at all) and he agreed that the anti-psychotics I have are much more powerful weapons.

He then suggested that if this doesn't work I might want to think about some new anti-depressants -- MAOIs.

Which kind of brings me back to my last post -- can pills help when the problem is in the real world? Stress and money worries and agoraphobia and crippling loneliness -- can pills help with those?
My psychiatrist seems to think they would.
I said I would see how I get on with the increased dose and think about it.

I am worried about the dietary restrictions -- I don't trust myself when I am feeling low, not to deliberately eat or drink something prohibited.

But the thought of feeling better is, as always, enticing.

Low Down

I'm feeling very low at the moment, and I'm not sure if that is because number one daughter goes home tomorrow or because my system is missing the anti-depressants I hate so much. Or a combination of the two, plus all the other stress.

Every morning I do a kind of straw poll, to judge how suicidal I am that day. It ranges from 'not very' to 'pretty bad'.

I find it hard to imagine that suicide doesn't figure on the list of possible daily options for some people, but I am told that for some people it is categorically not a consideration for them.

I think that must be a nice feeling.

I can't imagine that a pill can produce that feeling though -- at least, not the kind of stuff that they give out legally on the NHS.

So I'm not about to hurry back to the anti-depressants. I'll just have to hope that my poll keeps me on the good side of 'emergency'.

Filthy Lucre

I couldn't feel worse.

Which is a shame, considering I've just come home from a holiday that was supposed to make me feel better.

But then I wasn't expecting to find a letter telling me I owe £6500.

At the moment I am pretty suicidal, not taking my pills, and expecting to go to prison if I don't pay it (which I can't -- I simply don't have the money).

And my brother asked if I was feeling relaxed after my break.

I soon put him straight.

Daughter number one is coming home from uni to see what she can do, but in truth I don't think there is much she can do.
She says she will find out what is going on, and why I apparently owe the money, but I don't think it will change a thing.

And I don't think I can live with a £6500 debt hanging over my head, which only leaves one option; one way out.

All is Quiet...

... on New Year's Day.

One of the most peaceful New Year's I've ever had.

Thank God for my medication.

So how the stupid head local psychiatrist can call my meds eccentric and say she won't be responsible for me while I'm on them is beyond me.
At least my GP is supportive, but it means there is going to be no CPN support, and so no help with my agoraphobia. Any thing that I want doing about it is going to have to come from me.

So no change there then.

***

I am missing he who left me lots at the moment. I don't know why that should be the case. Maybe because I am thinking it is about time I got rid of the last of his stuff -- something about the last of him being gone, or maybe a bit of sadness about chucking out his pc. I wondered if it was guilt, but it isn't -- it's been sat here for 3 years, and he knew where it was, if he wanted it.

***

New Year's Resolution is, as usual, to lose weight.

That, and to kick this agoraphobia in the teeth once and for all.

Bored Game

I am so bored I am going out of my (already frazzled) mind.

For the first time in I don't know how long I actually feel reasonably ok -- but I have nothing to do!
I have nothing worth reading, all jobs are done, there is nothing on TV, and I am bored out of my skull.

If I wasn't agoraphobic I would go for a walk or get a job or something, but I am, so I can't. And daughter number two and my son don't think much of taking me out, so I'm stuck indoors, waiting for daughter number one to come home for the holidays, hoping I don't lose what's left of the plot in the meantime.

You would think that my complete lack of contact with the outside world would be grounds for a bit of support from mental health services, but apparently not -- because I have a private psychiatrist I can't have a community psychiatric nurse (even though that would give me access to all the other services in the area, like a day centre, cbt, counselling, etc).
So not only do I have the joy of paying for my psychiatric care, I get penalised for the fact that I do, too.

Thanks, NHS. I love you, too.

Repeat as Needed?

The new pills are kind of working, or at least I think they would be if I didn't have Titanic stress to deal with.

The lowered interest rate has put me in a position of being hundreds of pounds a month worse off. I was so upset about it I contacted my MP, and she didn't know what was going on even though I explained to her exactly what the 'nice' lady at the Department of Work and Pensions had told me. But at least my MP has said that she will contact the Minister, "to see if the policy needs looking at".
I won't be holding my breath.

But none of this is helping someone who is supposed to avoid stress. In the absence of something to deal specifically with the problem (having run out of Seroquel and not having them on repeat prescription at the moment) I have resorted back to sleeping pills for the time being.
But the newspaper this week contained an article about the high numbers of people who remain addicted to benzodiazepines, and how they are becoming attractive even to heroin addicts and lo! -- Suddenly they disappear off of my repeat prescription list too.

At the current rate I'll be down to aspirins and the odd ibuprofen before long.

***

In other news, number one daughter has been diagnosed with an underactive thyroid -- the exact thing I am being treated for.
If these things are hereditary, then I suppose it lends more credence to the fact that it is what is wrong with me after all.

Seasonally Affected?

My psychiatrist believes that at this time of year all bipolars naturally want to go into a kind of hibernation -- it's only natural, apparently.

And that explains my fluctuating moods, and tears, and general lowness.

That and the fact he thinks anti-depressants really don't agree with me, so I have to come off them asap. Which doesn't help the low mood.

So instead of them I am to start on the (controversial?) treatment of thyroid hormones in the absence of thyroid disorder. Lets see what my GP makes of it.
Personally I am looking forward to it, as from what I have read I can expect an upswing in mood before the stability bit kicks in.

And anything that gets me out of this hole has got to be good.

***

In other news, number one daughter is doing fantastically -- looking after me was good training, it seems, for life on her own. I am pleased for her.

She deserves to shine.

***

I am lonely as hell.

That might just be because I am in this hole at the moment, and holes are solitary places.

Or it could be because I am alone.

Insight - a Double Edged Sword?

Some kinds of madness are intractable even for the shortest time -- there is no respite at all, and therefore no time for any insight in to ones situation.

My madness, on the other hand, allows one breaks of varying durations, when one can look back with-- with what? Horror? Embarrassment? Shame? Mortification? If one is lucky, with amusement. When one can look back on ones words and actions and see them as being the result of ones illness. That is insight.

But which would I rather?

The periods of 'sanity' when I am relatively in charge of my own mind, even in the knowledge that those periods mean I have to face the things I've said and done?

Or no sanity, and never having to come face to face with my own madness?

How about having to do it over and over again?
It's a funny old game.

***

Being on medication reminds me of being an alcoholic.
Each time it fails it's like going right back to the beginning, even though it's not really your fault.

"My name is Betty and I'm bipolar. I've been sane for 3 days."

You Are Being Removed From The System

I removed He Who Left Me's homepage from my 'Links' today.

I'm not sure why.

I still miss him, so it isn't that.

I think I would just feel more peaceful if I thought the universe (including him) was less mad at me.

Hopefully it's grinding it's metaphorical teeth at me a little less today.

Fledgling

Number one daughter has finally left home.

I suppose I should be a bit sad, but it is hard to be when her house and her room and her housemates are so lovely, and she is so damn happy -- I couldn't have asked for a better departure.

Sadder, I suppose, was homecoming to son and number two daughter, who are as unsociable as ever.

Yes, I'm going to miss that girl like crazy.

***

Our run in with the Medichi virus has been eradicated to the tune of £80. All because having music on the Xbox 360 was more important than antivirus software, apparently.

My son has learned his lesson, and Kaspersky 2009 is duly installed on the clean machine.

***

My heart appears to be slowing down.

Thankfully.

Only just a tad under 100 bpm, occasionally, but an improvement, none the less.

Hey, I'm low on good news at the moment; I'll take what I can get.

Try Not To Breathe

I saw the doc yesterday and she clocked my pulse at 118 bpm.

Tachycardia, she called it.

Too fast, she called it.

She said it's the new pills, and if it doesn't slow down, they have to go.

I said there has been a lot of stress. There was the doctor, for a start. And a phone call about my son, from school, and something to do with 'isolation'.

And then there was finding a family I didn't know I had, and losing them again, all in the space of a week, because I am bipolar.

My heart beats too fast.

Better that than not at all, some might say.

But the doc says it has to slow down, by tomorrow.

Deal Breaker

Today (tonight) I am having a hard time.

I am having a hard time getting my head round the fact that I am stuck in this godforsaken dump BY MYSELF when that was never the plan.
If I knew I would be here by myself, I would never have gone ahead with the move.

It would have been a deal breaker.

Yes, he hasn't spoken to me in over a year, and yes I should be getting over it, but clearly I'm not.

And anyone who thinks he is a 'dear soul' hasn't been on the pointy end of him, have they?

Or maybe that's just it.

Maybe they have.