Monday, 23 November 2015

One by one...

The last few weeks at home have not been the most pleasant. When I last posted, I'd just seen the dietician that morning, and in the afternoon, mum got back from her mini-vacation. After a horror weekend alone, I told her we really needed to change the carer's payment situation, and she told me to move out while I'm at it.

It hit me as a bit of a shock, for her to say that. It hurt. I didn't have the energy to sit there and pointlessly argue. I went out the garage, and smoked and broke down until the tears ran dry. Then I went back to the porch. I accepted it. It is her house, her life, and ultimately her decision.

I have to make this clear. I'm not angry or frustrated at mum for not being able to continue as my carer. I do get it. I'm angry that she won't accept it means losing the payment, and whenever I've tried to discuss it with her, she gets offended and argumentative, and I had to draw the line. (I should note: I do pay my own way covering everything I eat, my share of bills, the housework etc.)

She's a great mum. I think (or hope) most of you guys know that. She's just not fulfilling the role of 'carer'. It's a fact, not a judgement. I honestly think that if we redid the forms, which I'll be asking my GP to do, the outcome would be different now. It's not a sudden change - it's been building all year.

She's burnt out. I get it. Before I was ill, she cared for my brother for some years too. It isn't a 'blame' situation, not by a long shot. It's just the way life works. I just need to know what's going on so I can start looking at my other options.

To me, though, it just confirms everything The Horrible Psychiatrist said all those years ago.
"They will get tired, and they will leave."
Mum looked him straight in the eye, and told him he was wrong. His reaction was basically,
"Just wait."

I always knew he was right on that one. Now, I'm taking his second piece of advice.
"You should free mum from her role as carer."

After that discussion and the aftermath on Tuesday, I made an appointment to see the dietician again on Thursday. That didn't happen.

For the last few months, mum has been pushing me to do more by myself, especially at appointments. It started with going to every appointment alone, and currently, she is pushing me to go to reception, talk to them by myself, go back afterwards and talk to them again to pay. For reference, the most I've been able to interact with the girls at the desk is saying 'hi' and 'thanks'  in the last few months, and even that has been a huge challenge. Before that, it was just a smile, sometimes a wave.

And I couldn't do it. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it was too much. If I were in a better place I might consider the challenge, but at the moment it's just another roadblock in getting to appointments. I asked mum if she could please put a 'pause' on her agenda, because I'm already struggling enough with food and getting to appointments as it is. No.

But I'm not going to push it. In the end, mum is backing away for a reason, and I can't change that. So I cancelled Thursday, and cancelled tomorrow's regular appointment too. Like I said before, I'm just rolling over and accepting it. It is her house, her life, and ultimately her decision.

So I guess you could say, appointments are currently up in the air. I still have my weekly standing appointments with the dietician, and have an appointment with my GP next week, but it could go either way. I feel like my supports are crumbling one by one, and I don't have the self-caring factor to be pushed in to these scary situations, just to get to appointments, and for whose benefit...?

And I want to thank you all for you comments, support, input, feedback and opinions on my last post. I was actually kind of scared to check the comments for a few days. I think I prepare myself for others to judge me just as harshly as I do. I checked a few days later, expecting the worst, but instead they made me cry. I really don't know what I'd do without the support and friendship of all of those in the blogosphere.

At the moment, I'm just trying to find my feet, my routine, and keep up with the human race in general.

As for the whole thing with my friend, I don't have a friggin' clue what's going on there, but I think I'm good with that. Or, more to the point, I'm just over. I don't have the time or energy to waste on social dramas right now. Isolation is the best medication.


Tuesday, 17 November 2015

Home Alone

This past week has been really full-on, hence my lack of writing. I was to be left home alone for 5-6 days, and things did not go as planned.

Last week, I actually worked up the cojones to ask a friend to come over and keep me company for part of the weekend. He asked when my mum and brother were going away, and said he'd come over for most of Friday and Saturday, and only be 10 minutes away if I needed. I thought I had a safety net, and that at least a couple of days wouldn't be so hard.

I don't even know what happened. I really don't even know. I think that's the worst part. My social life is very much a case of "the less said, the better". He came over, we talked and drank and watched Inside Out. It was nice. He had a bag and a new bottle of scotch. I thought he was going to stay. The scotch never got opened.

One of the first things he said was that he'd been dating a girl for four months, and she wasn't too happy about him visiting. Obviously, this is where the shit hit the fan, with constant texts flying, but I don't know what or why.

He left sometime around 1am, I'm not entirely sure. I wasn't expecting it, and it was a shock to the system like having ice water poured all over me. Everything in me sunk and all I felt was fear. I can't even explain how or why it makes such a difference just having someone around. I just needed someone there and I had no one else to call on.

We haven't talked since, which isn't unusual for me, but I don't know when or why plans changed or if I've stepped on toes or what. If it had been a known, I would have tried to sort something else out so I wouldn't be left alone, even if it meant a respite carer.

As a bonus, toward the end of the night, my stomach decided to pull it's magic trick where it randomly ejects its contents. I don't think it was even alcohol-induced, as I didn't drink that much, and I kept being sick until about 4pm the next day.

Saturday was one of the hardest days I've had in a long time. The morning was hell. Between the stress and being physically sick, I wasn't coping. I called mum 10, 20, 30 times, only to hear she'd be turning off her phone in 15 minutes for the wedding. I didn't even know what to say. I then called my brother, who very calmly asked the routine questions and asked if I needed him to come home.

My brother flew back on Saturday. I feel terrible because he'd only left the night before, but I didn't know what else to do. I felt so alone and scared, and it's not like I exactly have lots of local friends to call.

I waited in curiousity to see if I'd hear from him on Saturday. Nothing. I think I've managed to unintentionally fuck up my last local friendship.

A strange phenomenon happens when mum leaves, and I lose all sense of time, all structure, and arguably the majority of my mind. When I started smoking weed, I referred to it as the Eternal Twilight. The same happens when I'm alone. Life is just one, big, long fucking day.

I've missed most of my meds and skipped most of my meals. Saturday, I didn't eat until 6pm when I made an egg with bacon on toast. Just under 200 cals for the day. The next day, I had an Ensure at the end of the day, but that was it. I've had another supplement this morning, and I'm going to try to go and cook a proper dinner after I finish this post.

I should mention, this whole week had been a result of bad timing, with both my mum and brother booking trips some time ago for the same weekend. Unfortunately, no one realised the clash until a few weeks ago, and by then it was too late to change anything.

I had a talk with the dietician this morning, which helped a lot. I might try to see her again on Thursday, just because the last couple of weeks have been so hard with intake and weight. I've lost 2.5kg since she weighed me two weeks ago, and there's four more weeks until I next have to be weighed. She asked if I wanted to do it this morning to get it out of the way, and I thought about it, but ended up chickening out.

Mum got home a couple of hours ago. I told her that
  "After this weekend, I don't think I want you on carer's allowance any more."
This has been a highly debated topic in our household of late, as it's been building for a while. And she got really pissed off and said
  "Fine, cancel it, and move out while you're at it."



Friday, 6 November 2015

Scales and Sickness

This week was my 6-weekly weigh in with the dietician.

I've started being more open with her lately, as our relationship recover's from last year's scale screw-over.

At home, on the Wii, I weighed 46.1kg. At the dietician's office, clothed and full of coffee, I weighed 48.3kg. I figure I'm somewhere in between, so let's say 47.2-ish. The bathroom scales still seem so daunting, so I'm still weighing in on the Wii, but I know I'll have to get on the real scales soon. This time between weighs, I lost 2.0kg.

She asked how I felt about it, and I told her straight up that it was a relief to be further away from the 50kg mark. When she asked if I wanted to lose more, I told her the truth (in my head, I'm planning to start maintaining again in January). She said she'd really freak out if I lost any more with my current BMI. I at least agreed to have two Ensures/Forticremes this week.

However, I've been feeling pretty sick since then, and I've dropped another 1.5kg in two days, putting me around 45.7kg (BMI 13.2). I'm actually going to ask if we can redo this week's weight. It was just horrendous timing that I got sick and dropped further, and I don't want her to freak out.

I've been feeling pretty crappy since Tuesday night, when I woke up vomiting. Since then it's been coughs, puke, aches, chills, fevers, night sweats, and complete exhaustion. It's making a lot harder to eat, even when I want to, even the smell of food makes me want to puke.

My intake has been lower than it's been in a while. The last two days, I've finished the day under 300 cals, despite actually trying to eat more. I tried to have an Ensure last night, but the first sip made me retch. Today I'm going to try to get to 600. I've had an egg and bacon on toast (149), and I made it through a whole Ensure (226). The Ensure took half an hour, but it got down and stayed down. I think dinner's going to be toast/bread, so I should get there today, nausea permitting.

On Thursday I saw my GP. I told her I think I've go a chest infection or something brewing. She asked if I could please try to take the antibiotics that I've practically refused over the last few months. Amazingly enough, I actually had one this morning. Yay.

When she did my OBs, my heart rate was in the 140s just resting. It's rarely below 120 at home. She checked it three times before asking how long it's been since my thyroid was checked. Looking through my records, it's been five years, and she wrote up for my next blood test to include thyroid.

As for the old mental health nurse, who said she'd call but still hasn't? I'm pretty over it all. Again, she said she'd call, and again, I was naive enough to believe her. My GP is not impressed, and is now advancing from phone calls to writing her a letter.

  "Honestly, I don't know if I even want to talk to her any more. The only thing I have to say to her is 'Why didn't you call?', both at the start of the year and again now."
She just nodded sadly. My singular good experience with the MH system has been marred by her saying she'd call, but never did (twice!). I mean, why even bother saying it if you don't mean it?

Plans are in the works for getting me back to the new MHN, but the fear is still so strong. I'm talking to the dietician about it on Tuesday, and hopefully it won't be too much longer before everyone's schedules line up so she and my GP can accompany me as they kindly offered.

I think that's about it for today. For now, I think I'm going to spend he weekend on the couch resting and recuperating,