Hospital.

Well.  What a week from fucking hell.  Tuesday.  The day was planned that my friend would come over and help me with the vacuuming after I injured my neck over 2 weeks ago now.  She said when she got to my house that I didn't look well, and I said that's funny as I didn't feel well.  I felt strange, like the calm before the storm.

Sure enough it was.  By 11am I was crippled with pain in my left side.  Unable to breathe properly, sweating profusely, disorientated, rocking myself in some sort of way that I thought would help my 15/10 pain.  My friend rang the health line.  The nurse could hear me moaning in the background, she immediately said 'I'm calling an ambulance, stand by' - that's all I really heard after telling her in between trying to breathe what brought it on (no idea) what my pain levels were and how I ended up slumped over my chest of drawers in my room.

Around 11:30 a paramedic arrived.  He was the most arrogant prick you could have ever sent.  'Stand up' - ah, I can't dickhead.  'Why haven't you taken any pain relief?' - well, as you could probably tell (or not, depending on your brain capacity) I couldn't speak, nor move and was around 2 meters from my drawer with said pain killers in it.  Asshole.

He proceeded to say 'What you have is stronger than anything I have' - good for you! That's fucking amazing.  He made me take one of my pain killers then proceeded to give me this green whistle... Well let me tell you this.  I went from crying in agony to laughing my ass off, according to my friend I was telling the dude that my son was 6 (he's 2.5) and a whole heap of other irrelevant stuff.  Apparently I was hilarious with this little whistle that tasted like I was inhaling nail polish remover.

Hospital.  Well that's fun.  Sitting opposite the nurses station waiting for a bed.. It was peak hour.  6 ambo's came in after I was placed on a chair with a blanket.  What I saw wasn't pleasant and to this day I hope the young girl that had wrapped her car around a tree is still alive.. she looked peaceful though, almost like she'd passed on and they were doing everything to revive her.. From head to toe she was covered in blood.  I'd only ever seen something like this once and that freaked me out, this time she was literally 1 meter from me.  I had to bow my head & just rock.. 

A homeless man presented to emergency in a psychotic episode.  That was scary too.  I've never seen someone in such despair, the mental health team were doing all they can to get him fast tracked but it wasn't enough.. He needed sedation before he hurt a nurse or me (he was standing next to me for around 2 minutes..)  

I was taken to acute where I had this fabulous doctor tell me that it could be a couple of things causing my agony..  A perforated bowel.  Epiploic appendagitis. Or a fucking big kidney stone.  The epiploic appendagitis mimics an appendicitis.  That's EXACTLY what it felt like, when I had my appendicitis I felt like I was in labour... So, we were hoping the CT scan would show this, we'd fix it all good.  Not my lucky day.  A cyst was found on my left kidney, but this wouldn't cause the phenomenal pain I was in..  Back to square one.

I was pumped full of pain meds.  Endone. Fentanyl. Morphine. Repeat.

The only thing that took any edge off my pain was morphine. So my lovely doctor gave me another dose and my pain went down to a 7.

I was moved to short stay, and my lovely night nurse tried to make me as comfortable as possible to try and get some rest.. She gave me valium, buscopan, and this morphine type tablet that went under my tongue.. Can't think of it's name but it was effective.. 

I couldn't shut off.  I messaged my mum (who was staying at our place to look after my kids) for a couple of hours, she couldn't sleep and neither could I..  I was still upset that my husband didn't even bother to come in and see me.  When my doctor asked if I was supported at home with my fibromyalgia & mental health issues, I looked at her and said 'No.'  She was quite sad that I could only rely on my parents and 1 friend for help & support.  That's when the tears started.. I think I cried solidly for 2 hours.  I couldn't bring myself to call my husband because as far as I was concerned, he didn't give a flying fuck about me so why call?  It took me until 10pm to make the call.  I was cold toward him, he didn't pick up on it - he's male, they only care about themselves.  His best mate was more concerned about me than him - sad huh.

The lovely nurses let me rest until 0820 because they knew I'd had a bad night (not asleep until around 3) they came to do my obs, and said I'd be going for an ultrasound and that the surgeons would have a chat to me about the cyst.  I said thank you & grateful a plan was in place.

Cue asshat registrar.  

He told me as there were no significant findings on the CT & X-Ray other than the cyst.  He couldn't give me a reason for my excruciating pain.  He basically said in his own fucked up way that I was a junkie for being on opiates to manage my fibromyalgia.  I lost my shit a little.. I started getting hot from head to toe, burning enough to tell him to get fucked.  I said to him.. 'How dare you ask me to come off something that gives me the little quality of life I have left' - 'Why would you do that?' Because he didn't know shit, I cannot take NSAIDS because of my Xarelto medication for my fucked up lungs.  He said, 'Oh that's a shame' - no shit dickhead.  He said is there anything we can do for you? I said yes, discharge me so I can get away from you.  He looked shocked but not, I don't think I was the first and I won't be the last to tell him he's a dickhead.  He wrote my letter, told the other lady opposite me the exact same thing, she was a junkie too.

Apart from that one empathetic doctor, and her getting on top of my pain for at least an hour, one nice nurse who cannulated me (wow, blood.. holy shit, a tonne of blood - someone get me a plug?) bitchy nurse who wouldn't get written up pain meds and wanted me left in agony 'they'll get to you soon OK?' - woah bitch, hold onto your hair.  I had a nice go at her too.. 

What an experience.  Of course my parents have done more for me that my husband since I got home Wednesday arvo, he hasn't really given one shit - narcissists are not empathetic so I wasn't expecting much.. 

Until next time, be kind. x 

Self Harm.

TRIGGER WARNING ~ SELF HARM...

I feel as though I have let my 11 year old, first born daughter down.  Yesterday I found out she harmed herself and told her 'boyfriend' who then told his mum as he was worried, then his mum told the deputy principal and - queue me.

I got a phone call from one of the deputy principals at school and my first thought was my 2nd daughter, knowing that my first was thriving and doing brilliantly in her last year at primary school, gold student, great respect for her teachers & peers - it couldn't be her.  It was.  Time stopped, I'm sure.  I couldn't process as quickly as I used to be able to and my first reaction was anger.  Now I am so ashamed that the first thing I said to miss 11 was - WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?  I am absolutely kicking my own guts in, I feel so disgusted that I, a sufferer of the hideous disease which is self harm, has plagued me since I was 13 - was angry at my clearly suffering daughter.

I saw the photo.  The photo that was sent to her little boyfriend.  It wasn't horrific.. but.. it was a massive trigger for me.  I felt for her.  Tears streamed down my cheeks.  She told me she used a sharp pencil and just 'scratched' at her skin (left arm) no scars were left, and luckily no blood was present.  

I felt her pain.  I got it.  I showed her my left arm, something I have shielded from my kids since they were old enough to see it.  She was shocked.  It's like she didn't realise that it was a 'disease' and the brain really fucks you over sometimes.  To cut yourself to feel better - people look at you like you need to be in a straight jacket with a psych evaluation.  The only thing that took the pain away when I was younger was to cut myself.  I used a bobby pin.  Simple.  Rarely did I use a razor, although I did have a 'stash' in my bottom drawer.  The sharpness of the end of a bobby pin actually does a bit of damage.  My arms, legs, stomach, feet - yes, feet - were covered in cuts & initials.  The only way I got relief from the relentless bullying was to cut.  I felt free.  Among the constant anxiety attacks, the tears from bad memories, the only thing that got me through was to cut.  I went for nearly 2 years before my parents found out.  It broke my mum & my nanna's hearts.  My mum still blames herself for not being 'present' enough when I was a teenager, I think that's why it happened - because a) it felt good and b) only 2 friends knew.. Until I showed my 'high school boyfriend' his initials carved into my right foot. "WHY?" "Why would you do that to yourself?" - I said because I loved him and it made me feel better.  Clearly he didn't understand how harming yourself can make you 'feel better'.

I get why miss 11 did what she did.  She was masking a horrific incident that happened to her at school and she felt she had no one to go to.  Not her teachers, the principal, me or her dad.  She was desperate.  I asked her if she looked up self harm on google, she said no.  I asked her how she knew what she was essentially doing and she said 'I just had to get something sharp and scratch myself until I felt better'... My god.  It was like mirror imaging.  Like I was talking to my 11 year old self.  So scary.  So FUCKING scary.  At that instant I felt I had failed her.  My heart is broken.  I've given her coping strategies that I've been given over the years, and I have been self harm free for almost 3 years.  It's hard, so god damn hard.  I love my daughter with my every inch of my body and I will do anything to try and heal her pain, right now I need to mend 2 hearts.  Wish me luck.

Until next time, be kind x

Suicidal Ideation..

**TRIGGER WARNING**

I get it. It took me years to understand how people become so helpless & feel they have no other option but to end their lives. I get it COMPLETELY.  I have suffered with suicidal ideation for so many years, and after suffering from clinical depression from 19, and generalised anxiety disorder at 14 - suicide has plagued me.  As I've gotten older and suffered pre & post natal depression, being admitted at 35 weeks pregnant for suicidal thoughts & a 'plan' - I had almost all but given up.

Mental health is shamed.  It is stigmatized.  It's almost like you're not allowed to be 'mentally ill' because it's not 'visible' and you look 'fine'.  Fuck stigma.  Mental health is REAL.  It's scary, it's lonely and especially when your loved ones don't want to know or understand the depth of where your brain is.  It's taken me a long time to accept that something that happened to me at 17 was out of my control and I've finally begun to heal.  That's 22 years of being shaded by this event, and I refuse to give it anymore of my life.

As I am struggling with dissociation through borderline personality disorder (BPD), it's one of the most difficult things I've ever dealt with since my diagnosis 5 years ago.  It's flared for a reason.. Something is not 'right'.  I am having this horrible 'am I alive or looking in at my life, dead?' - it certainly doesn't do anything for someone that has suffered from self harm since the tender age of 13.  Something of which I knew nothing about.  It wasn't in encyclopedias, in the 'news' we certainly didn't have internet, so I kept my arms & legs covered every day - even in summer.

I'm not looking for sympathy.  I'm looking for understanding.  Everybody deals with things differently, everyone's brains are different.  I wish mine wasn't broken.  I wish I hadn't had that first anxiety attack at 14.  I wish a lot of things.  I just hope one day we can all treat each other with respect no matter what is wrong with us.  Mental health problems are 'illnesses' whether people like to admit it or not.  Just because my brain doesn't function like yours doesn't mean you throw me away or stop caring.

Until next time, be kind x