Archive | July 2016

Medical Emergency?

Well this was going to be a post about my IUD exchange and that whole process. But now we are going to focus on the current medical crisis.

I’m in brushing my teeth and look up and my entire bottom lip is cyanotic–blue.

As I calmly try to not freak out, I start assessing myself.

Throat: fine. Tongue: fine. Upper lip: fine [wait what huh?!]. Tingling: none. Wtf?!

Call my mom: no help. Call my doctor: my phone won’t accept incoming calls.

Finally connect with Doctor. I’m a medical oddity. My only symptom is my cyanotic and swollen painful to the touch bottom lip. No tingling in it.

I’ve had dizziness and a headache all day. But I chalked that up to the after effects of IUD. I have also felt very out of it and stoned; also chalked up to yesterday’s procedure.

Now I’m exhausted, want to sleep, scared to sleep, and will be woken up in an hour for a phone call check in.

Why can’t I be fucking normal?!?!?

life tryna fucking kill me breh!!

Then Life Happened. Again.

Of course life is always ongoing and happening. That isn’t what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about Life: the bitch that comes to you when you need a few seconds to fill your lungs with fresh air before being pulled back underwater and is the one that takes you back under with a forceful yank. Like Jaws status.

You: enjoying the ocean. Maybe laying on your back and relaxing. Maybe coming up for air. Maybe like me struggling to stay afloat and gasping for air.

Life: that mean friend you didn’t see dive underwater to grab your ankles and pull you down maybe for a quick dunk or for a full on jumps on top of your head and nearly breaks your neck move. Or in my case, Jaws who smelled my blood in the water and came to finish me off.

Ok ok I might have been dramatic there but it’s been a horrid week. I needed to run with my creativity.

Work is, well, ha. If you followed my saga last year I’m right back at that exact same point. Go team!

Physical health is a mixed bag yay! The anorexia is not so swimming. Thanks to the gynecology clinic last week! Shout out to gyn!

I went in and ended up having one of the worst experiences of my life. From receiving a phone call 3 hours prior telling me I was supposed to not have eaten anything or drank anything because I was having IV sedation [surprise!! I asked and asked and no one told me and I did not receive a preop call either], to being told that I had to have this procedure done before my IUD exchange–a lie.

But the real beauty? Society, and healthcare, is very insensitive. Very, very, insensitive.

So besides my chart saying my anxiety disorder and eating disorders on it, I guess there is no other way to explain or give an excuse of how someone did not know my history unless that are wanting a lawsuit for poor practice and bias.

Yes I am a fat anorexic.

My chart wouldn’t lie and it’s not YOUR PLACE TO JUDGE or challenge that especially as a healthcare provider!!

So when I went into the room and the medical assistant tried to force me onto the scale and I told her over and over again “I don’t do weights, I have anorexia, I asked and was told I wouldn’t need to otherwise we would have prepared for this” I was not prepared for her eye roll and attitude.

Or her threatening me saying they will just cancel me and schedule me in the surgery suits.

WHO DOES THAT?!?!

WORST CARE EVER! 

I was then left alone for 30 minutes in a panic attack.

The doctor came in and was mortified by the care I received. She confirmed what I knew: a weight was not needed.

She apologized and calmed me down. We did my surgery right there: removing a cyst on my labia.

She said she was going to talk to the team about their behavior and educate them on sensitivity to eating disorders and listening to patients.

That’s great and all but what about what I dealt with and how I have to go back?!

I have stitches in my vagina and it hurts so bad! Sitting, walking, standing; it’s alllll bad!!

And this happened right after my move.

So I decreased my fluids and food so I didn’t pee as much because well you should get it.

It still hurts. I feel so fat and the stitches remind me of it.

Then a few hours ago I found out it was a very rare benign tumor. So rare I had to call in favors to find out cancer statistics and recurrences.

Oh, also, cut off from seeing my therapist because my insurance group has deemed me as not needing coverage and has not covered any treatment for several months. Found that out yesterday.

Eating disorders: the deadliest psychological disorder and one of the least acknowledged ones–connection?

I have to wait till this is all smoothed out. It could be weeks.

And I potentially face a top fear of a scale next week pre IUD exchange. Sans support. IDK WTF I am gonna do or how to do it!!

Hi Life. I’m back to being fat and struggling on my own again.

Can’t keep going on like this.

Moving Saga: Unpacking

Moving has been beyond overwhelming. It is just so much.

The adjustment to my new place. The new routine. The new location of everything.

Oh the new location of everything!! My OCD “behaviors” are going out of control. Things aren’t in “their places” and it is so overwhelming it has me shutting down.

I’m also feeling extremely fat. Pretty sure I’m gaining weight. Like it is yoyo ing.

I’ve forced myself with 3ish meals almost consistently for like a weekish now and it’s making me physically/emotionally/psychologically exhausted.

And it also encourages the fat thoughts and reinforces them.

I also feel like I was consistent so why hasn’t the weight just fallen off now?! Come oooon!!

Time is so warped.

I’m taking it all in bite sized pieces. Unpacking the few boxes I have left similarly to how I packed: “20 minutes”–honestly it ends up being like two hours.

I’m at a standstill because things are still broken in the place preventing me from moving and unloading certain boxes which then blocks other furniture…

I had a goal of having everything unpacked within a week of moving in. I was doing so well. Then life happened [see next post]. As always.

And now PC is moving in with all his stuff which is wayyyy more than mine.

I’m beyond overwhelmed.

I’m shutting down.

I needed a week off for the move.

So Many Boxes

So many boxes everywhere. So overwhelming.

As I predicted, unpacking MUCH quicker than packing.

The hardest part is I’m missing his furniture and idk how to best certain things.

Like how will we do the living rooms? The gym area is now going to have to be somewhere else. I want minimalist style. Where do I put all my makeup/perfumes? Or worse all my clothes!! I’ve effectively lost 6 drawers. 3 to PC 3 to the living room. Craaaap I was using them all before!!

The sweetest thing I’ve heard?

Welcome home baby.

Not Pretty: Moving

Not really sure how I feel.

Glad PC saw how my dad was a total asshole.

Sad that PC saw it.

Embarrassed that PC saw me weak.

Saw how my father and parents have refused to help me at all with my move process and then outright refuse to come with me the day of my move.

I don’t understand why I’m not good enough. I can’t figure it out at all. Like wtf goes through their heads as parents?

They said they would pay for my moving truck.

Nope.

Both times my delinquent sister moved, my parents: paid, emotionally helped, and physically helped. They were all over it. They bought her things for the move; for her new place.

Same as my other sister. Paid for her stuff too.

But me? The oldest who strives for everything and perfection and has pretty much damn achieved it compared to her siblings?!

Nothing.

No offers to do laundry. No help packing boxes. Not even interested in seeing the new place.

My mother faked sick and stayed home one day to watch. Nothing else. Stresses me out more.

The negative commentary and critiquing.

I cried in front of PC. I lost it. I cracked.

I need out.

I can’t be in this toxic environment anymore. Where I’m told I look fat or pregnant. Where I’m yelled at and belittled. Where I have to cower and am a victim so that I don’t start shit or step on toes. Not buying food because my mother says it’s a waste of my money I need to save it. Too old for that shit.

So I’m lying here, in my bare bones childhood bedroom, and I don’t know how I feel. All my safety items are packed. So glad to leave these toxic people behind. So scared of the unknown. Where all the food places are. Where all my safe places are. All the backstreets.

So ready to start over; start my life. It’s like college all over again. Except this time I’m not letting the guilt of this toxic family bring me back to save them. They’ve ruined and destroyed enough of my life. They don’t support me. Positive vibes only.

Probably why I’m feeling so anxious right now even with the Ativan on board.

Tomorrow’s  the day. Tomorrow is officially the start to my real recovery. I’ve lost one of my major excuses.

Lying here looking at all the old memories, I’m ready to let go but so sad for it to go. A lot of comfort in the past because we know what happened. But living in the past is Depression.

I just want to be loved. For who I am and what I offer.

MIA: I’m Moving!

It’s been a long and stressful month.

I returned from my travels. Was slammed with work. I was double covering for someone on vacation [good for them they deserve it!]. But that seemed to make others think I should also pick up their load. Hmmmmm

Then since no one else was allowed time off during this time, someone else “was sick” for an entire week so I found myself two point five covering because I had to seriously to support the person who had to cover for the “sickly.”

Convenient they were sick for a week, worked three days, and were well enough for their vacation for a week.

My face: -___________-

All the while I had an increase in doctors appointments because, well, I made them like a month ago and when you’re anorexic you have to be seen by a whole team. You know, you have you’re psychologist, your psychiatrist, and don’t forget your primary! Then there’s your vampires I mean lab draw team. And because we are still dealing with my injuries from December I still have my physical therapists. But I have been a bad girl and dropped my massage therapy sessions because I could not find time. Well that came back because walking like a hobbit isn’t cute. Plus it hurts.

But the real stress besides work? Oh I’m moving.

Like, the real move.

I cannot remember if I mentioned this or not, but during my travels, a month ago, PC found our place.

Yup, I’m moving in with PC!!

This anorexic anxiety filled person is able to sustain a healthy relationship and is moving in with her boyfriend: a concept I accepted would never happen.

And this is beyond exciting!

I’m not scared about living with him. Probably should be. Not sure why I’m not. My stress has all come from the move itself, packing, and the changes for my anorexia post moving out and away from my toxic environment.

My sleep: so messed up the last month. The last week I’ve need Ativan. I’m so angry because I haven’t used Ativan in the past like 6 months I believe! Annnnnd here it is.

Just have to get the shit on the truck and I’m OUT!

The stress should decrease considerably. PC moves in later. Then nesting and my OCD can run rampant.

Now to deal with the bullshit drama of work. Ya. I stood up to someone who tried to bully me. Go me!