Level Up

So, today's my 21st.

I tend to find birthdays pretty depressing by nature - same as Christmas and New Years. I never expect it to hit me so hard, but in the week or two prior my mood plummets. Kind of like a 'what the fuck am I doing with my life?' thing.

I wrote a wall of text about how much things have changed over the last five years, what life used to be like, where I thought I'd be by now... that sorta stuff, but it was too distressing to see written down. I spent hours yesterday crying to mum about anything and everything. It's all so overwhelming, life in general, I'd rather just bury my head in the sand and try to block it all out.

I'm not doing anything particularly special today. Mum asked me to think about going out for lunch or something, but I really didn't want to. Anxiety and sickness aside, cafe and restaurant food is always so disappointing. I'd rather have homemade and make things exactly how I like them. I didn't get out of the house at all this month, but oh well. There's a piece of lamb in the slow-cooker and potatoes roasting in the oven, and I might see how a glass or two of Shiraz goes with my icky stomach.

I exercised for two hours on Monday, step aerobics and Wii boxing. I figured; I already wake up sweaty and gross, so why not? It'd been a week since I'd last exercised, and it was getting to me. I started with the intention of just doing half an hour, but I can't do just a little exercise. If I exercise, it needs to be for at least an hour of two. It's all or nothing. It's been weeks since my last 3hr+ day and the guilt just keeps building and building.

GP tomorrow, thankfully. Yesterday was totally fucked and today hasn't been much better. Aside from the depression, I'm getting really bad pains in my back (lungs?) whenever I cough like I haven't had since I was in hospital, and I'm coughing near-constantly. Coupled with a killer headache, fever, crazy BP readings and all that, I've achieved literally nothing for the last two days. I've barely even looked at my phone, barely been able to move off the couch. Billy and Misty have been keeping me company though - my furbabies always know when I'm not well. 

Mum got me a ghd hair straightener! Excuse my crazy-bitch face scratches. I've been pretty good at keeping self-harm away from my face recently, but this weekend...

Mum's birthday is exactly a week after mine, so this year I just made a shared birthday cake. Last year I made two and it was hellish. It's similar to the one I made at Christmas - three layers of chocolate cake, sandwiched with buttercream, coated in ganache. I haven't had a chance to try it yet. I took one tiny bite earlier when mum had a slice, and it set off another coughing fit before I could even swallow it, and then I was too nauseated to even think about trying it. Sigh. 

xxBella

Cough, gag, puke

I've nearly finished the sewing project I started back in November, the 1880s dress. It's not quite finished yet, but I'm getting there, slowly. I've been doing a bit of hand sewing this week while stuck on the couch, and I've got the 'structure' of the dress done, I guess. I've just got to do the buttons, hem, and put on lots of lace and bows, and find a brooch so the collar sits properly, but it's basically done, so I thought I'd share some progress pics. 

Sorry for the bad lighting. It's usually much earlier in the day when I take sewing photos and I've only just finished it, but I wanted to share anyway. Better pictures when it's 100% finished. 

I'm still feeling icky... Some days aren't so bad, some days are awful. At night I wake up every hour, either because I'm coughing or freezing from the fever-sweats. Thankfully my fever hasn't really been getting up to 40°c anymore and I'm not in too much pain, but yesterday was awful. I was stuck on the couch all day with a fever of 38°c. A couple of hours after falling asleep, I woke up suddenly and was violently ill for the next hour. My body just kept retching long after my stomach was empty. After I eventually got back to sleep, I woke up at 2am and got up to take some painkillers and have a quick smoke. Bad idea. One puff, cough, cough, gag, puke up painkillers, collapse back on the couch.

Today hasn't been much better. I wasn't feeling so bad on Tuesday so I didn't make a doctors appointment. I don't know if it'll just pass or if it's an infection or what. I'm already seeing my GP next week though so it's fine. I would've been lucky to get an appointment this week after the long weekend anyway.

I was home alone again on the weekend. It was nice to have some quiet time on the couch. I spent most of it marathoning Futurama and Disney movies because I couldn't focus on much more than that, though I still have ED documentaries to work my way through. I haven't worked out for nearly two weeks except for an hour on Saturday which is killing me, but at the same time it's nice to not have to stress about it.

Oh, and another piece of excitement (for better or worse) was that mum bought me an Easter egg. It was a sweet thought, but it led to a total meltdown because I really wasn't expecting it, and I ate it, and ugh, it was all just bad. 

I think that's about it for now... Thank you guys for your messages and well-wishes throughout the week. Sorry I have less and less to say as time goes by. 

xxBella

Infected

I feel like I've been hit with a tonne of bricks.

It started on Tuesday afternoon, in a wave of lethargy and chills, a cough from hell, a fever of 40°c (104°f), back twinging, heart racing, throat aching. Just like that, I felt too weak to move, too weak to lift my arms to roll a cigarette. I keep ending up in uncontrollable, breathless coughing fits. The kind where everytime I cough, I can feel my lungs exploding a little. I've spent the last two days going from armchair to couch, coughing my lungs up, constantly dozing off, shivering and sweating, tears leaking out because everything just hurts.

I haven't exercised since Monday for obvious reasons, but holy shit do I hate myself for it. I know I shouldn't push my body any harder right now, but it doesn't stop the guilt. I feel like death. Thankfully I made a big batch of soup over the weekend, so at least I don't have to worry about food prep - 14 cups of my mother's signature lamb, lentil, barely, peas, carrot, potato & onion concoction now resides in my freezer, coming in at 116 calories per cup.

Maybe I should've paid closer attention to the warning signs. Increased inhaler usage. Waking up coughing all through the night. Those strange little back pains that plagued me over the weekend. A chest infection, maybe? Either way, I guess it's a good thing I got my flu shot last month. Mum wanted me to see a doctor today, but I thought I'd give it a little longer and see if it goes away on it's own. They're closed until Tuesday now anyway, for Easter. On Tuesday, I'll either be feeling totally fine, or I'll feel like I'm dying and need to see a doctor ASAP. 

I know I'm rambling and whining, but seriously, I haven't even had a sniffle of a cold for nearly a year now, and this week I feel like I'm falling apart. Yesterday I was in tears for five hours straight, which only makes the breathing troubles worse, which only distresses me more... I feel like I'm suffocating and I've no patience for anything right now. 

In other news, my birthday's coming up in two weeks. I'll be 21 on the 30th, wow. I don't think I'll be doing anything to celebrate. I've always had quiet birthdays, and 21 is hardly a 'big one' anymore. It's not a coming-of-age or 'key to the door' as my mother says. Our legal drinking age is 18, so that's not an issue. All it really means is taking responsibility of certain bills such as health insurance (how exciting). It sure as hell doesn't feel like I'm 21 though. The last few years have totally disappeared and birthdays keep sneaking up on me. I still feel like I'm 16.

Tuesday was dietician day. Tuesdays don't take so much out of me anymore. A lot of the anticipation and anxiety surrounding my weekly appointments has faded now that I'm weighing myself at home (not that it ever changes much) and it's becoming more of a chore to get there each week, but I'd be in free-fall without her. She isn't supposed to be working next week or the week after, but she's coming in next week to see me anyway, which is so kind of her. She's going away for Easter and getting back at 2am Tuesday morning, but will be in at 8am to see me anyway. Bless. She really is wonderful. I tell her not to worry, that I'll be fine, but she knows things get harder with weeks without appointments to pull me out of my own little world.

I think that's about all for now... Sorry I've fallen so behind on comments etc. this week. My brain is fried and my lungs are trying to kill me. You guys are amazing and I love you all to pieces. 


xxBella

Swimming Against the Tide

I feel a bit like I'm swimming against the tide lately.
That rip current that gushes backward and pulls you further out to sea. If you try to swim against it, it exhausts you until you eventually run out of energy and drown.

I don't want to fight it anymore. I am so tired, so overwhelmed, it hurts. Why? What is the point?
I feel like this big black hole of negativity, sucking in and destroying everything around me. A waste. A waste of food, a waste of space, time, money, oxygen. I just want to hide, from everything. I don't know what to do anymore.

I've been slowly working my way through a heap of ED docos and movies. I was watching Perfect Illusions yesterday, and at a few points they talk about how eating disorders are by nature a coping mechanism, that they mask a lot of problems. You depend on it more and more until it's how you cope with everything. Then when you take it away - the way that you think, the way you deal with things, the only thing you know - you don't know what's gonna be there when you take all that away. You don't know what's underneath, deep down, and it's a terrifying prospect. And it's true. The only thing that terrifies me more than gaining weight, than eating - or more to the point, part of the reason I fear it - is facing what's underneath.

I got a message from my piercer last week, inviting me to come help set up the new studio and jewelry displays before they open, to get me out of the house if I feel up to it. Which is pretty cool. When she asked mid-piercing what I was doing these days, I was blunt and told her that it was only the fourth time I'd gone out this year, that I've been basically housebound for the last few years. I feel so guilty about dropping off the radar for so long, from everyone, but I'm starting to learn that doesn't mean they all hate me for it.

I don't know. Maybe. I said I'll see how I go, but it really depends on how I feel on the day. It'd be a good opportunity to catch up with both of my piercers, because we all know I'm not about to venture into a busy studio anytime soon, but I really don't know if I'll be able to or not. We'll see what happens.

I was actually supposed to be meeting the Mental Health Nurse on Wednesday, but apparently that's been rescheduled for mid-May instead, not that I'm complaining. Funnily enough, within a few days I got a letter saying The Lung Doctor Man has also rescheduled my next check up, from mid-May to June. I still can't bring myself to quit smoking when my depression's so strong, and I still don't know how to explain that to him. I've actually had to use my puffer four times in the last two weeks (more than I've used it in a whole year - usually I just use a preventer puffer twice daily) because I've gotten into uncontrollable, breathless coughing fits. Whoops.

Apologies for such a disjointed post, again. I'm a broken record, I know, I'm sorry. You guys are all amazing, I'd have totally lost it by now if it weren't for our little blogosphere.


I feel like I'm slowly slipping away. And I don't want to fight it anymore.
Just let it carry me out to sea.

xxBella

Piercings and Pills

So, on Friday I got my first piercing in nearly three years. 

My piercers are currently relocating one of their studios. Unfortunately for me, it's their quieter studio. Their main studio is far too busy, and even the quieter one has been too daunting when it comes to my agoraphobia in recent years, but with it's upcoming closure, I felt it was my 'last chance' to get a piercing.

Mum had kept asking if I wanted to go for a cuppa, for a walk on the beach, to the mountains, anything to get me out of the house, but to no avail. I don't feel up to doing much right now beyond lying comatose on the couch. I was starting to doubt if I'd be able to keep up with my goal of going out once a month, or if I even wanted to. But on Thursday, I impulsively decided to finally get my second nipple piercing before they closed this week. It'd be quick, quiet, and perfect timing.

I went in first thing Friday morning and thankfully it was pretty quiet. Amongst other fears, I was terrified of running into people I knew. My outings are usually as far away as possible, ideally at least 45-60 minutes drive away. I haven't been out this close to home in a long time. The piercing itself was fine, and without a doubt the least scary aspect of the outing. It was nice to see a friendly face again after so long. I left the store feeling okay, a little buzzed even, but fell into a panic attack and broke down in the car because everything suddenly seemed too loud, too bright, too much.

Since I can't show a picture (well, technically I could, but I think I'd traumatize you all), I thought I'd share some pictures of my other piercings. There's a list and a few pics at the end of the post.

GP appointment on Thursday was weird. I dunno. I just felt totally out of it, like the appointment didn't really happen or I wasn't really there. The only thing I really took in is that she's agreed to take me off zyban (useless antidepressant and 'smoking cessation aid', hah) so I've cut back to one a day. I still don't know if she's planning on putting me on something else, or raising my mirtazapine dosage (antidepressant I've been on for years but doesn't help anymore, which was cut back when I first started zyban) back to my full dose or what... ugh.

I feel like time's speeding by before me. Where did the hour go? Where did the day go? Where did the week go?

I'm still hibernating in my lounge-cave as much as possible, hiding away and ignoring the world around me, watching docos and movies when I can zone out, too depressed and drained to get off the couch, pretending I don't exist from breakfast til dinner. I still can't explain the strange sense of calm it gives me, to feel like I'm not really in the world. It's not even 'calm' - it's a still, motionless, deflated, flat feeling, mixed with lower anxiety levels thanks to lorazepam. 

My weight is going up and down and is grandly pissing me off. I'm starting to remember why I stopped weighing myself everyday. Still using the Wii scale because I'm pathetic and too scared to know an accurate number. Dietician tomorrow. I'll update more on the current food/exercise situation later on the week. Just wanted to tell you guys about the piercing and strange GP appointment. 

Anyway, my current piercing list, for those of you interested;

• My tongue piercing, a surface piercing (pictured) Everyone said it wouldn't work, wouldn't last, but five years on and I've had no problems with it.
• My lip piercing (pictured) Again, a lot of people doubted this one, but it's lasted. Also, I've never had any dental damage from my piercings, unless you count accidentally biting the jewelry while eating.
• Two nape piercings (pictured)
• Two vertical nipple piercings
• Tongue frenulum 
• Two eyebrow piercings (right). These are my only 'unbalanced' piercings, but I can deal with it because there's two, not just one.
• A navel piercing
• A conch piercing (behind my right lobe)
• A rook piercing (right)
• An industrial/scaffold (left ear)
• Four lobe piercings (two stretched to 8 gauge)

xxBella

Hospital Ramblings

Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading and commenting and sending me lovely messages this past week. I know I say it a lot, but it can't be said enough - you guys are lifesavers and mean the world to me.

I'm still in hospital. I've officially been here for over a week, and to be honest, I wasn't expecting I'd be here so long. The Lung Doctor Man (thoracic physician) is planning on sending me home at some point this week. The infection is clearing and my oxygen levels aren't as bad as they were, though there's still a long way to go. I'm so exhausted. It takes so much energy to even pick up my phone, to brush my hair, to chew and swallow food. Even short walks, not even five minutes, leave me breathless. My oxygen still drops but it hasn't been getting below 88%, which is better than what it was prior to admission. I'm surprised it's still so low - last year when I was hospitalized, I was only on oxygen for not even 24 hours.

On Saturday, I was allowed out of the wheelchair for the first time and they started weaning me off oxygen. I hadn't walked more than a few feet at a time all week, only to the bathroom and back. For the first couple of days I wasn't allowed out of bed at all - I was even wheeled in to an x-ray on a hospital bed with a half dozen staff clamoring about, which was an experience, to say the least.

It's scary how quickly my strength declined - both in walking and breathing. It was just two months ago I was exercising for two, three, four hours a day! I never even got to see my physician during that period. Any benefit that exercise provided to my lung function will never be known, and now I'm back to square one. I'm dreading having to start exercising again, starting back at square one, unable to keep up for even 15 minutes. I worked so hard to get my endurance up, and now it's gone, just like that. I'm really looking forward to exercising again, doing my step aerobics and my cardio boxing. After being sick these past couple of months, I feel more motivated than ever to get this weight off.

Food has been stressful, obviously. My intake's been anywhere between 200-700 calories. I've been sticking to plain foods and weighing them up on my trusty pocket scales. I've been mainly eating poached eggs, steamed chicken and fish, plain bread, potatoes, yoghurt, fresh fruit and veggies, those sorta things. Some meals have been total disasters, where I take one look at the tray and end up curling up in a ball crying my eyes out for hours because I just can't do it. I only had wine with dinner once despite how much I was looking forward to it - it just isn't worth the calories.

My anxiety is crazy in here. There's too many people, too much noise, too much space. I'm struggling without any coping mechanisms. My physician is giving me lorazepam three times a day. He was actually the one who orginally recommended it to me a year ago, though it took a good six months for my GP to agree. I've been tearing my skin to shreds and pulling my hair out, but I haven't really been able to self-harm, and I obviously haven't been allowed to smoke (not even a cigarette!). The doctors in emergency noticed the burns on my arms and cuts on my legs on admission, but thankfully it hasn't really been mentioned again. I've nearly torn apart my shaving razor a few times but I really can't risk it. They don't deal with psych here, and I just can't risk being sent to public with the Horrible Psychiatrist.

I was crying my heart out the first day on the ward, and this wonderful lady from pastoral care wandered into my room. I'm not a Christian, not by a long shot, but she just talked to me, and I talked to her, and we clicked when I told her about my sewing. Amazingly enough, she used to be a seamstress, and in her younger days had aspirations of studying at NIDA too. She spent a couple of hours with me each day last week which was a great comfort. On Friday when she left, she gave me a hug and said she'd pray for me. She said she'd be back on Tuesday though, and I'm so looking forward to seeing her again.

I'm still struggling to take all of this seriously. When it comes to my health, I always tell myself its not that bad. Whether it's to do with anorexia or COPD or anything really, I never think it's that serious. Things could be worse, right? I'm still smoking a year after diagnosis, and I was doing okay, so it can't be that bad.

Being in here has given me even more time to think, to stew, to wallow in the vast nothingness that is my life. The depression is so strong right now. Part of me is a disappointed that I'm not really sick, like dying sick. I feel just as overwhelmed as I have for months, just as hopeless. I don't want to be a part of the world. And therein lies the reason why I haven't even tried to quit smoking, and why I know I'll start straight back up again the second I'm discharged. It's hard to care for your health when you just want it all to be over.

There's so much more to say, but my head just isn't processing things right now. Apologies for the unstructured nature of this post.

Boo hasn't left my side all week. Staff are quite enamored with her and know her by name. My notes read 'HIGHLY ANXIOUS'. I'm 21 years old, 6'1", have 18 piercings; and I can't make eye contact, I cry constantly, and refuse to let go of my Boo.

My GP came by again on Friday, but I missed her because I was getting an x-ray done. The big surprise was when the Mental Health Nurse came to visit, twice! She came by on Tuesday and again on Friday, and she bought me this book to read that she thinks will help. We actually had a really good talk and I opened up about a lot of things, so that was unexpected considering I'd only met her twice before. I miss my dietician like crazy though, and I won't be seeing her until next week. Even when I was hospitalized last year, I only missed one appointment.

There's a harpist who goes around the hospital, playing for patients. He came by and played for me on Tuesday and Wednesday, and oh my god, it's such a beautiful instrument. I don't think I've ever seen or heard a harp up close before. Watching him play was just enchanting. A recording of him playing Brahms' Lullaby plays over the loudspeaker every time a baby's born in the hospital, and if you're lucky, you'll hear a newborn crying shortly after. The lady from pastoral care told him about my sewing, and he thinks I could do amazing things for the special care nursery, making little quilts and things. (Picture from Google)

My brother's girlfriend went to Bali, and bought me back some coffee! I can't wait to try it when I get home. Sick of drinking instant all the time.

And just to clarify; my piercings only came out for the bronchoscopy. They're such a part of me, I'm not about to let them go that easily! It was just standard procedure, just like removing necklaces and earrings. I just have a helluvalot more jewelry than most. I haven't been piercing-free, even for a minute, for so many years, so I thought it was worth a photo. Unfortunately, I missed out on helping my piercers set up their new studio over the weekend, but oh well.

xxBella

Bronchoscopy

So I'm in hospital. Things took a nosedive when I apparently caught a cold on top of my bronchiolitis/COPD exacerbation.

Where should I start? It's been a hectic few days. I saw my GP first thing Monday morning, and wasn't even in her office five minutes before being moved to the treatment room to be given oxygen. My oxygen levels were dropping to 77-83% which is definitely not good, and the nurse hooked me up to the oxygen tank while my GP tried to get in contact with the thoracic physician (A.K.A, The Lung Doctor Man). After an hour, my GP told me the specialist wouldn't be at the hospital until 6PM and so arranged for me to be admitted via New A&E (more on this in a later post).

The last few days have been hectic with tests and treatments to no avail. Today, though, I'm dreading.

My x-ray upon admission said 'something's wrong', but the physician can't tell what's wrong exactly. There are 'abnormalities', and he thinks I might have a bronchiole (the tinier airways, after the bronchi) almost completely obstructed, which matches where the worst pain's been for the past few weeks. I had a CT scan done a few hours ago, and I'm getting a bronchosopy so he can really see what's going on.

Frankly, guys, I'm fucking terrified. This is by far the most invasive procedure I've had, and I've never had anesthesia before, either. It'll basically involve getting a camera inserted down my nose and into my lungs so he can have a poke around, see what's going on, take some biopsies, whatever.

Fucking terrified.

Oh, I nearly forgot. Just before I was moved from A&E to the ward on Monday night, my GP popped her lovely face into A&E to quickly check up on me. I actually nearly started crying. Then the MH nurse, who I've just started seeing, actually dropped in quickly last night too, as it was on her way somewhere. I don't know what I've done to deserve such goodness. I've never had a team, or even a single medico, who I've felt actually care about me before. Everyone is so kind and I'm so... undeserving.

I didn't get the opportunity to eat on Monday amoungst the chaos. Yesterday I managed 330 cal. Today I had most of a slice of wholemeal toast with Vegemite at 8AM, but since then, I've been fasting - a requirement for both the CT scan and bronchoscopy. No water, either. If I have any water in my stomach, it could be aspirated during the bronchoscopy. But it means I've not had to stress about food too much these past few days which has been a huge relief, and I've gotta admit; the first thing I'm doing when I get home is weighing myself.

I feel like a scared little girl. Everything's just so messed up right now, I can't even find words anymore beyond depression's word-vomit (e.g, 'I just want to disappear', 'I can't do this anymore', 'It's all so pointless and I'm such a waste'). I can't stop crying. This, the lung issues, is all too much to deal with on top of everything else. I just want to go home and smoke and starve myself into an early grave. And my agoraphobia is fucking crushing me in here. God, I would kill for a smoke. On the upside, I get my quarter bottle of Cabs tonight with/for/after dinner (yes, this is the hospital that gives you alcohol).

I'm sorry guys. It seems I've been posting and commenting less and less since I've been so sick, but you guys mean the world to me and I love you all. I'm reading everything and doing what I can, and I'll try to write more often after my lungs clear up. 

Note/Update: 

I was literally two minutes away from publishing this when the anesthetist came in and whisked me away on a moment's notice, nearly a full hour early, which sent me into full panic. He had to place a new IV since the first one literally fell out overnight (the nurse didn't secure it properly). I nearly broke down when he said, quite brazenly, "You don't eat enough", in reference to my bulbous veins - a combination of a thin wrist and my usual disgusting fluid intake of 16-24 cups a day. 

All I really remember about it was the sedative kicking in, the bed tipping back, and the pain of the bronchoscope in my nostril (though I have no visual memory of such), and then waking up, coughing blood, disoriented, an hour later. The Lung Doctor Man spoke to me briefly and all went well. He took a few biopsies so now we play the waiting game. I'm just trying not to think about the logistics of the procedure. 

I weirdly cried for an hour because I felt so disoriented. I then had to wait another two hours before I could eat or drink anything afterward. And then, 11 hours after my last sip of water, the nurses all tried to offer me solids but all I wanted was milk, fruit cordial and a freezing cold can of Diet Coke. 

It's coming up on midnight, and even if sleep eludes me, my body is crying out for rest. I've had maybe ten hours sleep in the last 96. I've been lucky to get more than an hour's sleep at a time before I wake up coughing, sweating, in pain again, and it's hard to fall asleep in the first place when I feel like I'm suffocating, even though I've been on oxygen 24/7 since Monday morning. 

There's so much more to say, but for now, at least, you know the basics. I'll post more in a few days and try to start catching up on comments tomorrow, I promise.

Y'all have seen me without makeup countless times, so here's a 'truly naked' selfie, Bella-style. No piercings allowed. Hospital lighting is shit, sorry.

And the leftovers...

xxBella