Tag Archives: stress

Stress, Pain, and Loneliness

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I’ve been extremely stressed this past week. I don’t know whether I’m comin’ or goin’, as they say. If you’ve been reading my blog then you know I struggle with pain and mobility issues and that I am looking after my 86 year old Dad. I seriously need a break.

There seems to always be some kind of disagreement, or friction between Dad and I. He always remembers things differently than I do. I’m not sayng he’s always wrong; sometimes he is right. There’s always something he doesn’t understand, or something he forgets, and once in a while he forgets HOW to do something. He’s very unsteady on his feet and he hasn’t fallen in quite some time but I feel like I can’t leave him home alone for longer than it takes me to see my NP for a script renewal. I should get a nanny cam so I can keep an eye on him just so I can go have lunch with a friend once in a while. I can’t even remember the last time I was out without Dad.

Anyway, it wouldn’t be so stressful if I had some help. All of my family is in Tennessee and I am NOT moving to TN! My son is 15 miles from us. Yes, you read that right. He is 15 miles from us and I have not heard from him in just over 2 months. I’ve not seen him since Christmas and he hasn’t even bothered to text me. I know he’s busy with his own family and his own life but it only takes a few seconds to type out a quick “how are you?” once in a while. I don’t think I’ve been this hurt in a long time. Dad asked me if I had texted him in the last couple of months. No, I have not. When I do text the boy, it takes him sometimes days before he responds. Why would I even bother?

It’s a seriously lonely time in my life. Anyone who is responsible for looking after an elderly parent will feel the same way. It is lonely and stressful to carry it all by yourself. God forbid if Dad is ever diagnosed with dementia. He’s not that bad yet. He has his moments but mostly he knows what’s going on and basically takes care of himself. He just needs to be watched and reminded of certain things. I signed on for this but at the time, I had no way of knowing that I would be disabled and struggling myself come show time.

So, what do I do? I bitch a little, cry a little, and then I suck it up. I do what I have to do and in the evenings just to destress I do jigsaw puzzles, diamond paintings, blogging and journaling. I’ve taken on a new hobby: paint-by-number! A friend suggested it and I thought I’d be so clumsy I’d have paint all over the place but so far, so good! I’m thinking of latch hook and embroidery, too! While I do those things to destress, I listen to my audiobooks. I like the fictional detective/police/PI stories the best. I’ve ‘read’ some very entertaining/engrossing stories! It keeps my mind busy with something besides my troubles.

It’s time for me to get moving. It will take me a couple of hours to cook something for lunch (it sucks being disabled) and if I don’t fix something Dad won’t eat. Today on the menu: Chicken Fajita Salad Bowls. Wish me luck and thanks for reading my blog!

The Saga of Jack and BobCat

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These little shits are driving me insane.

In October, we took BobCat (above, right) to the vet and had him neutered, vaccinated, dewormed, and had his ears treated for earmites. We just wanted to give BobCat a better life than being outside and exposed to the weather, the road, and wild animals. When we brought BobCat into the house, to my surprise, Jack (above, left) and BobCat didn’t fight as I expected. But, that only lasted about a week. Then, all hell broke loose. Every chance he got, Jack would attack BobCat. It was so stressful. We had to be on the lookout all the time. Jack finally settled a bit, but we still had to watch. At night, we locked BobCat up in the small bedroom we refer to as the cat room. All was peaceful at night with the exception of BobCat playing with his toys or kicking cat litter all over the place. But that changed…

Fast forward about a week ago, BobCat started going berserk at night in the cat room. I mean, literally tearing the room up! It sounded like he was climbing the walls and throwing himself against the door! He made so much racket, I couldn’t sleep. (I sleep in my power chair which is right next to the cat room!) I didn’t sleep for 2 nights because of this so the 3rd night, I threw BobCat outside. It was finally quiet. But that didn’t last either.

After a few hours BobCat was throwing himself against the front door wanting in. I tried to ignore the noise. When he didn’t get any response, he went around to the window, then the next window, and so on. Then he was back at the front door. Holy crap.

The next night, I just let BobCat run loose in the house. I told him, “If Jack kicks your ass, it’s your own damn fault.” Things were peaceful with a few exceptions. As long as BobCat stayed in my chair (on me) or in Dad’s chair, then Jack ignored him. But as soon as BobCat decided to get up and play, eat, or use the litter box, Jack decided to give him a hard time. So, I’m losing sleep every night.

Oh my gosh, I am so exhausted! I can’t function without sleep. Having chronic pain and mobility issues is bad enough! I just can’t take much more. I’m at the point where I’m ready to find BobCat a new home and that makes me sad.

Last night, I guess I was so exhausted I fell asleep fast and slept hard. I didn’t wake up until almost 9am this morning. I feel so much better! With body and mind rested, I can function somewhat…and that’s still not much considering my pain and mobility issues never go away.

I don’t know how many times Jack (above, left) kicked BobCat’s (above, right) ass last night, if at all, but they are both still alive and well. I would ask them, but I’m sure they won’t answer.

When It Rains, It Pours…Literally!

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Our house was built in the 50s and the foundation is crumbling, walls are cracked, and floors are sinking. It’s in sad shape. We’ve always had problems with the roof leaking. We’d spring a leak, fix it and the rain would find another entry. Every Spring we curse the rain, and farmers when they wish for more! This year has been…as my grandmother would say, “the physical shits.” 

My Dad’s room was an add-on back in 1995 or 1996. I helped a little but I was working full time. Dad did most of the work himself. It was the nicest part of our house! Then one year, it sprung a leak, then another. Dad put hundreds of dollars into that roof every stinkin’ year, trying to stop the leaks. The roof had been reshingled many times, (like the rest of our house) and still, another leak would pop up. For years Dad has been putting so much money and effort into that roof! 

This Spring has been the worst rainy season I think we’ve ever had and it has done a number on Dad’s room! It got so bad that buckets needed to be emptied every couple of hours! Then it got worse. We had so many buckets set up that Dad couldn’t even sleep in there anymore. He moved into the spare room; he said he would eventually move back into his own room. That wasn’t going to happen!

Dad got into his closet one morning and saw that mold had started growing in there, so we started moving things out. An old trunk, probably from the late 1800s that has photos, mementos, and heirlooms had to be moved out of there. There were boxes upon boxes of old photos and genealogy information, not to mention 3 boxes of the genealogy books that Dad published years ago. (He had too many printed at the time.) All of those things and Dad’s clothing had to be moved out of that closet! 

Fast forward just a few days. Mold began working its way up the walls of the bedroom and the floor was soaking wet. It was no use now. Things needed to be moved out of there and fast! A few of Dad’s things had to be thrown away. The office desk and 2 shelves are ruined but we saved the books. The most worrisome items were my Dad’s Victrola (photo below is similar to my Dad’s) and my mother’s cedar chest, both antiques. We needed to get them out of that room and fast! Dad and I couldn’t do it ourselves or we would have. I couldn’t get my son here to help so I had to beg friends on Facebook for help! Thankfully, my friend Angie brought her hubby and 2 other guys and they got the job done. 

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We are still slowly moving things out that are up and away from the dampness and out from under the leaks at the moment. When everything is out, we will tear that room down. It has to quit raining first! I swear when it’s raining it’s literally raining in the bedroom, too! It’s awful! (If it weren’t so embarrassing, I’d share photos and video with you.)

The urgency to get our new house done now is first and foremost in our minds, which is very stressful. My son has agreed to work on it but he can’t manage to get over here except 4 or 5 times a month. I can’t wait to finally be in a house that’s not falling apart! We started building back in the early 2000s but came to standstill about 10 years ago when Dad got too old and tired and I got too…disabled. 

Another reason for the urgency of getting the new house done is that I need help taking care of Dad. The new house is big enough for my sister, who has agreed that she will move in and help. I can barely take care of myself, let alone Dad. The stress of being on alert 24/7 is very stressful. Having someone here to help lends a second pair of eyes, ears, and hands. I can still do some things but having my sister to help with the cooking and cleaning will help me tremendously! Right now I’m a mess and a disaster waiting to happen!

So, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Stay tuned for updates…

 

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My Ordeal – Part Two

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If you haven’t read Part One, you can find it here: https://echo11am.wordpress.com/2015/07/11/my-ordeal/

Last month, I realized my appointment for the second EGD/Colonoscopy was coming up! Immediately, I started to worry. My anxiety level went up. I started obsessing over what was going to happen. I was having some digestive issues for months and I started to wonder if there really was something wrong with me. Could my doctor have been right all along?

I Googled my symptoms – bad idea – and thought I might have Crohn’s or Celiac. Maybe it was Ulcerative Colitis or Diverticulitis. The information I found was telling me that many people don’t have symptoms or maybe just one. I kept going around and around with my thoughts. I was arguing with myself. I was no longer having low iron issues. I hadn’t been retested BUT I was no longer experiencing extreme fatigue or insomnia. My diet had improved since my hernia repair surgery and I had stopped taking the iron supplements. If I had blood loss inside, as my doc said was a possibility, wouldn’t I still be extremely fatigued on a daily basis, especially since I stopped the iron supplement? Then I thought of the dreaded “C” word. I prayed every night for weeks, “Please God, don’t let it be cancer. Let it be anything else, but not cancer.” All the research I did, all the talking to myself, all the worrisome thoughts I had, did me no good at all. I had myself worked up into a frenzy by the time the procedure date came!

When the hospital contacted me for registration/admit information, I was instructed not to take my pain medication. Here we go again! I told the woman I had already spoken with the doctor and he said I could take it. She argued with me. “Oh no, ma’am. You can’t take that medication. It’s an NSAID.” I told her, “I know what it is and I already talked to the doctor about it. He told me I could take it. In fact, I had just a few days prior to this called him and verified that as fact.” This went on for a good ten minutes. I told her to call him and ask him herself! She said, “We aren’t allowed to do that ma’am. You will need to contact him personally and verify.” I was getting a little – ok a LOT aggravated – and I said firmly and probably a little too loudly, “I already have!” She dropped it and we went on with the registration/admit process. Thanks for adding to my anxiety, you argumentative twit.

Procedure day came. Stressed and ready to run, we headed on to my appointment. I knew they were going to put me completely under. I had had my surgery just a few months ago and didn’t have a problem with anesthesia. I shouldn’t be worried about this! The nurses were nice and tried to make me comfortable. They assured me it was going to be fine. That’s what they said the last time and look what happened!

Another nurse came in and proceeded to tell me about the “twilight” drug. I screamed inside my head. I told her right away that I was going to be put completely under with anesthesia. She argued with me. I told her I wanted to talk to the doctor. I also told her, “If they are planning on using the “twilight” drug then I am leaving!” She told me the doctor probably won’t see me before the procedure but I can talk to the anesthesiologist. Better than nothing, I suppose. I don’t have to do this, I kept telling myself.

After they took me to the holding area, the doctor DID come in to talk with me! Boy! Was I relieved! He said he remembered my case well and he told me that I was going to be completely asleep. I told him that I needed some assurance that if I wasn’t completely asleep, if I woke up, or if I cried out then he would stop immediately! He said he would definitely stop but he didn’t think we would have any issues. I explained how traumatic it was for me the last time. He understood. Whew!

The anesthesiologist came in next, and I verified again that he was going to put me completely under. I wasn’t going to chance that they were both on the same page!! Thankfully, they were on the same page, and then they rolled me to the procedure room. I’m still screaming inside! I’m scratching from the inside out, trying to find a way out of this! I couldn’t believe I was willingly going to let them do this to me again!! 

It wasn’t long before my lights went out. Thank goodness! I’m not really sure how long it took. I lost track of all time. I woke up coughing, coughing, coughing. I didn’t think I would ever stop. It took awhile to get that ‘stuff’ out of my lungs! Oh, and the gas! The wonderfully loud flatulence you get afterward! (They have to pump air into your colon so they can see better!) I really didn’t care how loud I was. They did this to me, they can suffer the consequences!! 

They took me back to my room after I was completely awake and aware. I was relieved that this was finally OVER! I wondered how I got a bit upper lip though. Curious. It was puffy and hurt like hell. If that was the only damage, then I was ok with that! But, I hadn’t asked about the results. I was afraid to ask. Should I ask? Dad was there and I knew the doctor had talked to him afterward. I had to ask him what they found, as scared as I was to know. Just as long as it’s not cancer!! I finally got the courage to ask. Dad told me the doctor said he didn’t find anything whatsoever! Not even one single polyp! Most people my age usually have a couple polyps. Not me! No biopsy had to be done. No cancer, no colitis, no diverticulitis, no Crohn’s, no Celiac. No inflammation. No bacteria. You know that part of me that was scratching from the inside out trying to find a way out of this? I was now jumping for joy as if I was on a trampoline!! Now, where’s my clothes? I’m going home and you can’t stop me!

I slept like a happy, fed, and dry baby that night! Never woke up once. The problem was, when I woke up the next morning, every muscle in my body hurt! It hurt to laugh, to cough, to sneeze. It hurt to move! I wondered if I was really under full anesthesia and maybe I just didn’t remember anything. Did those rat bastards use a “twilight” drug on me after all? Why would I be so sore? If I was completely asleep, my body must have still known what was “up” because it seems as though my muscles tensed up in reaction to the procedure! Why else would I be this sore? I can understand my ribs and abdominal muscles being sore from the coughing. But my calves, thighs, shoulders, neck, and arm muscles too? The procedure was July 7. Today is the first day I feel normal again!

I go back to my regular doctor this week for a follow up. She will be checking my iron level. I will be telling her, “I told you it was my diet!” I will admit however, two things: One, maybe the para-esophageal hiatal hernia was preventing me from absorbing the little bit of iron in my diet, and Two, if it weren’t for the first horrifying EGD/Colonoscopy experience I would have never known about my stomach and had it repaired. I still think, and I will tell my doctor, that she should have at least asked me about my diet, and perhaps rechecked my iron after a couple of weeks…instead of scaring me half to death with worst case scenarios!!! Seems that doctors these days think they know us better than we know ourselves! Ha!

I’m thankful to be as healthy as I am. I have chronic pain from severe arthritis but I can deal with this most days. I’m thankful I don’t have cancer, or any of those other digestive diseases. Maybe I’ll live, after all.

My Ordeal

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It all started in January. I went to my regular doctor for my annual check up. Ladies, you know what I mean. Blood was drawn at this visit and the next day Doc calls me and tells me that my blood work results showed I was anemic. That explained the 2.5 hour naps I was taking every single day because I couldn’t keep my eyes open!

Doc went on to explain that since I no longer have a monthly period, there’s no reason for my iron level to be that low. She said there must be blood loss somewhere inside. She strongly suggested an EGD and a colonoscopy. I had been refusing a colonoscopy since I turned 50. Was this her way of making sure I did it, whether I wanted to or not? Perhaps.

I told her I thought it was probably my diet. She said, “No, not unless you’ve gone completely vegetarian.” She wouldn’t even entertain the thought that it was my diet. Was she assuming that because I’m overweight I must get enough to eat? She’s a doctor. Doesn’t she realize that many overweight people are actually undernourished? How can she say with all certainty that it’s not my diet? She doesn’t know what I eat or don’t eat!

She went on to tell me that I could have colon cancer, lymphoma, Crohn’s, or Celiac Disease. Way to go, Doc! Scare the crap out of me. Again — her way of making sure I have a colonoscopy? I was beginning to think so. Reluctantly, I agreed and an appointment was made. In the meantime, she told me to take an iron supplement.

Within a few days of taking the iron supplement, I started to notice a change. I wasn’t totally exhausted by 11:00 am every day. I started sleeping better. Apparently, lack of iron changes something in your brain and that causes insomnia…and I hadn’t slept well in months! Due to these changes, I knew the blood test was accurate.

I was still convinced that it was probably my diet. I didn’t eat breakfast, lunch was my biggest meal and consisted of a vegetable, meat (usually chicken) and sometimes a potato or pasta. Maybe I’d just have a salad made up of romaine lettuce, carrots, celery, and zucchini. I wasn’t eating beef, not much grains — not bread, not even cereal. I wasn’t eating beans. I wasn’t eating much spinach or other dark leafy greens. At dinner time, if I was hungry, I had crackers and cheese or I’d open a can of soup. Maybe for a snack later I’d have a handful of pretzels or a few Hershey’s mini candy bars. Not a very iron-rich diet you say? Riiiight! I also wasn’t taking in any vitamin C, which helps you to absorb the iron in your diet. Ever since my gallbladder surgery, if I ate certain things (beef, grains, some veggies, beans etc.) I would feel bloated and had major discomfort in my stomach. So, I stopped eating those things! I figured I didn’t need the carbs or calories anyway! I thought this was just the way it is after gallbladder surgery.

In a couple of weeks it was time for the dreaded colonoscopy. I was instructed to stop taking all supplements, and my pain medications one week prior to the EGD and colonoscopy. I knew this was going to be miserable because I NEED that pain medication! By day 4 I was in tears and in major pain. I couldn’t sit still, couldn’t walk much, couldn’t sleep. I was a basket case!!

Day of procedures came and I was not only in tremendous pain but my anxiety level was through the roof! I wanted this day to be over. I wanted to go home and take my pain meds and sleep for a week! The nurses and doctor performing the procedures were very nice and explained everything that was going to be done. They tried to make me comfortable because they knew I was in pain. My comfort was short lived.

I was given what they called a “Twilight” drug. It was suppose to put me in la-la land. I wasn’t going to know anything that was happening or remember anything afterward. The EGD would be performed first. A mouth guard was placed in my mouth so that I wouldn’t clamp down on the tube. The tube went down my throat —- I gagged and choked and thought I was going to choke to death! I didn’t think they would ever finish. I was horrified. The nurses did their best to talk me through it all but it wasn’t working. (I couldn’t help think, “why am I aware of this?”) When the tube came out I was relieved. Little did I know that it would go from bad to worse when they started the colonoscopy.

Bear with me now. I hate to remember the details. It was just too traumatic and it has taken me all these months to be able to sit down and actually write about my experience! I won’t go into great detail about the colonoscopy because I think you will get the picture.

The drugs were not working on me, which is why the EGD didn’t go very smoothly for me. The doctor gave me as much of the drug as he possibly could. The colonoscopy could not be finished. I was yelling for them to stop. I was being held down by 2 nurses and told, “Stop yelling” and “It’ll be over soon” and my favorite, “Relax!” — all while being violated!!! I swear if I had seen those 2 bitches afterward I would have kicked them in the face. Thank goodness the doctor stopped the procedure, none too soon if you ask me!

Afterward, the doctor was very apologetic and explained to me that it’s rare but sometimes that happens. My pain level coupled with my high anxiety just over-rode the drugs. I should not have remembered anything but I did! He also told me that I could have taken my pain medication and that he had been trying to tell the ladies in scheduling and registration that that particular drug was OK to take! As for the EGD, he told me that he had a hard time getting into my stomach because it seemed to be in the wrong place, up too high and also that it was shaped funny. Oh great. Now what kind of tests and procedures do I have to look forward to? He suggested an Upper GI. Nothing too scary, thank goodness. He also suggested that we re-do these procedures but that he would put me completely asleep next time. You’re damn right you will, IF — and that’s a really big IF — I decide to do it again at all!

So, I had nightmares for 2 weeks after this happened. It’s hard for me to even recall the details vividly – not that I can’t recall them, but because it’s just too traumatic! Imagine this happening to you! My brain KNOWS it wasn’t rape BUT my emotions tell me differently! I don’t blame the doctor. It wasn’t his fault. Anyway, it was done now and I had to worry about what was wrong with my stomach.

An Upper GI was scheduled and it wasn’t a big deal really. I drank some nasty chalky stuff and was able to see the x-ray of my own stomach as I swallowed. It was kind of cool! The doctor doing this test explained that what I had was an Para-esophageal Hiatal Hernia. Basically, my stomach was in my chest cavity! That explains why I felt such discomfort and bloating, and nearly pain at times, when I ate certain things!! I was told that the danger was that my stomach could twist and cut off it’s own blood supply — resulting in a EMERGENCY situation for me! Yikes!

An appointment was made for a consultation with a surgeon. He was very nice, had a good sense of humor and I felt comfortable with him. He explained what needed to be done and showed me photos as well. He also told me that I don’t have to do anything that I don’t want to do. THAT was the very first time a doctor has ever said those words to me! I agreed that surgery was the best option and it was scheduled. I wasn’t too stressed. I had some anxiety but it was more about my insurance covering the surgery than the surgery itself! And the surgeon said I could continue taking my pain meds, and if I could stop taking them a couple days before the surgery that would be great, but if I can’t that’s ok too.

Surgery went well. I spent 2 days in the hospital and 3 weeks on special diets. The first week was a clear liquid diet. Second week, a full liquid diet. Third week, soft foods. After that it took a couple weeks to be able to eat without getting sick. I’m doing great now….. I’m eating my favorite foods again but I’m definitely trying to get all the necessary nutrients in my diet. Being more health conscious is easier said than done!

Stay tuned for the next installment: My Ordeal – The EGD/Colonoscopy ROUND 2