Panic Attacks

I'm emotionally and physically exhausted. 

Again tonight ...I had an extremely bad bought with pain. 

Again tonight...I freeked the hell out.

Full force panic attack.  There is no rationale. There is no nothing.  Helpless in many  aspects of life right now...and...helpless to control the pain.

I'm left trying to pick up the pieces.  A husband, who obviously is at his max.  Children, who are freeked by what is going on with their mom.  And I can't explain it to myself ....let alone my kids.

I'm at a loss as what I should do.  Each night this happens I feel less and less in contol. 

Curse Words

It's been one of those days.
LONG 'effing days.

I'm more than crabby.
I'm more than in pain.
I'm more than depressed.
I'm more than tired.

My husband insisted I call J*'s office today.
I refused to call anyone or answer any phone call.
He made a few calls this morning for me and got me into a few different appointments.
He insisted I call again or he would.
I said I would think about it.
And didn't.
I don't have it in me today to talk to anyone.

Sucks I can't lay in bed. If I could I wouldn't get up.  I can't even begin to imagine another three weeks of this shit.  Seriously, it will do me in.  No questions asked.

Numb

The narcotic pain meds are doing a number on my stomach.  Heartburn gets worse and worse.  Sleep less and less.

There are moments....little moments here and there where there is relief.  Tuesday after having a massage on Monday there was a little relief. When the pain started back in on Tuesday afternoon/evening it came with a vengeance.  Leaving me with just a few hours of sleep.

I woke after sleeping from 6-8 in my bed... this morning in a world of hurt.  Panicky and full of tears.  My husband called my surgeons office for me. I was woke up by a phone call and was barely able to talk on the phone for that call (that I had to take or I would have let it go to voice mail...it was my work comp case manager).

My surgeon was at the hospital in surgery today.  They promised to call back as soon as they spoke to him in between his cases.  Insisting that he would want to see me and made an appt for me tmw afternoon.  With in an hour the office staff called back.  They wanted me to have someone come in and pick up some pain patch (Flector) and give them a try.

My husband knows that I'm going stir crazy, getting crazy depressed, and needed to get out of the house.  So we went for a drive.  I also, saw my chiropractor while we were out.  My chiropractor knows me very well and one of his first comments was not how I looked on a "you hurt physically" realm of things.  However, he was concerned about how i looked on an emotional aspect.  His questions and concerns were "when do you see your psychiatrist again?  when do you see your therapist?  have you been seeing them?" and blah blah blah... I reassured him that I've seen J* every week since my surgery and have had an appt with Dr. KSB since my surgery.  He encouraged me to call their office and touch base.

The Flector patch provided a few hours of complete pain relief this afternoon/evening.  As I type this I'm having quite a bit of pain and it is a sleepless night, again.

As I have taken less and less of the narcotic pain medications...I am less and less numb to the emotional overload that had taken up residence prior to my surgery.

I absolutely hate how the pain meds make me feel.  And yet, this evening....that numb feeling ...is so much better than having it all exposed out on the surface.

One of Those Nights

I was reminded by J* this afternoon to stay away from the pity party cycle.  At the moment, I was able to hear what she was saying clearly.  Agree and understand fully the damage it does. I heard her concerns loud and clear.  It is the same audio tape that plays out in my head everyday.all.f*cking.day.long!!!

Yet, we came home after a very long day of being gone. We left at 10:30am bc the kids had appointments and I had 3 separate appointments.  Each appointment was in the same area of town and so it made no sense for my husband to drive 30 miles home to get me and then back again.

When we got home shortly after 6 tonight, I was fighting back tears.  Pain was tolerable.  My body is just not able to handle doing what it ended up doing.  I don't feel like I did that much.  Considering unless I was at my appts...I was sitting in the car.

I should be able to drive by now.
I can't.

I should be able to dress myself by now.
I did mostly last weekend.
I can't now.

I should be able to do so much more than I am.
And I can't.

When I look around my house at WHAT things I can do....

There are very few things that I can do.

I'm left handed.  I can't move my left elbow away from my waist.  Ever. For 8 weeks. I have. I do. Because it is your bodies natural instinct to grab something when you drop it. Not always do I want someone helping me get dress.  Not always is there someone home to help me get dressed.  I can't scrapbook. I've played more mother f*cking games online than I care to ever even admit. I can't cook for myself.  Toast is about the extent of what I can cook.  Occasionally, more.

What am I saying?

Nothing.
I'm just whining.
Feeling sorry for myself.
Frustrated that I'm still 100% reliant on narcotic pain medication.
Frustrated that I'm beginning to worry about being addicted to these medications.  Because I know what the early signs are..
Frustrated....and depressed.

Really freeking depressed.

6 Things...

I found this article "6 Things Every Kid Should Know About their Parents Depression" very interesting.  At some point, this article will be in the hands of my children.  My dd is at an age where she could benefit from it.

So you THINK you are a dad?

Earlier in the week I read a post by Living as a Bipolar Mother on Why Are Dads Allowed to Be Douches?  I was (and still am) rather drugged.  It didn't sink in what she was really saying.  Honestly, the first time I read her post, I do believe I misread it.  Like I said, it was probably the drugs reading and/or lack of sleep.

As I sit here in the weeeee frigging hours of the day, I'm reading blogs.  Re-reading blogs that I've read earlier in the week.  And even though, I'm still significantly drugged, I got a 3 hour spurt of sleep.  I may have woke up dying of pain...but 3 hours is gold when it comes to sleep.

You know....my husband was much like hers.  He still is a pretty decent dad.  And husband.  Sure we have our issues.  Sure there are things that need to be addressed both on parenting aspect and marriage aspect.  

We never had an agreement about who got up when in the middle of the night.  It was just something that he did.  Always. It wasn't because I worked early hours and needed my sleep.  It wasn't because of anything special.

Well, actually it was because of something special.

He is a Dad.

And that is what Dad's do.

They change shit-filled diapers.
They get up in the middle of the night when their babies wake up.
They feed their babies at all hours of the day.

There is nothing out of the ordinary...or is there?

I have friends whose husbands have never once changed a shitty diaper or picked up a bottle to feed their child(ren).  And to that I say "So you THINK you are a dad, huh?"

Bullshit.  Plain. Cut. Simple and Dry.

It is no secret that a majority of my mental health/depression issues surfaced after the birth of my daughter and heightened to an all new level and severity 3 yrs later when our youngest was born.  I can not even begin to imagine what life would have been like in those early years if my husband didn't do what he did.

Just a few of the things he did in those early weeks, months and years....

When our oldest was born...he would get up w/her every night.  Bring her to me to feed.  She refused a bottle or anything close to it.  I would remain asleep.  He would prop her up and have her latch on for her nighttime feedings.  He would then lay next to both of us...rubbing our backs and saying sweet nothings to both of us.  Attempting to wake me most nights worked.  Other nights not so much and I would have no memory of either one of them being up at night.  He would change her, her clothes and bed sheets if need be (she was very explosive when it came to her bowel movements at night).

When our youngest was born...he would do the same thing.

I cringe when I hear of men who refuse to get up at night (I TOTALLY GET THAT SOME MEN CANT because of work obligations and such), refuse to change a shit-filled diaper (and they better not tell me to my face they won't do it bc I may just shit on them...trust me the last man that said something to the effect...yeah he was regretting EVER talking to me), refuse to feed their babies....or any of that stuff.  Well that is for the birds and quite honestly I think you are the epitome of fatherhood.

The week has been long...

....and depressing.
....and longer.
....and more depressing.

On Monday I had an appointment with my OT.  She did an IFC treatment, again.  After the OT appointment I saw my chiropractor who did some deep massage into some of the areas of my neck that were swollen and very tight.  From there I had a therapy appointment.

About half way into that appointment I started to feel really horrible.  As in, nauseated the pain was so incredible intense.  I came home and took some of the pain medication.  And then...some more.  And then...some more.  By 10-10:30pm (shortly after I wrote the last post) I was in pure panic mode.  The pain was horrible.  Worse than the week after I had my surgery.  My husband insisted we head to the ER. I insisted on staying home.  He called my surgeon.

My surgeon thought that OT was to much and wanted me to end it.  And so I have. I won't be returning until the 26 or 27th when I see my surgeon next.

This week has been horrible.  As in absolutely horrific.  I've not been able to get a hold of the pain. I've spent most of my days in tears.  I leave the house only to go to the chiropractor and a massage.  The 24 hours after my massage were pretty good but not nearly as good as last week.  I've had muscle spasms, ran low grade fevers (in my arm and entire body), and just plain had no gumption to do anything. At all but cry.  I'm not sleeping, again.  I had gotten to a '2-2.5 hr at a time' spot with sleeping.  Not anymore. I'm back to 90 mins MAX at a time.  And pain meds...can't even go there.  I had cut back about half of what is prescribed. And after Monday have needed to go back up to the regular prescribed dose.  Which brings with it an entirely new realm of emotions = depression.

I'm in a not so good space.  I've lost my optimism.  Last week I found myself in this spot for one or two days.  With sporadic spots during the other days.  This week it has been all.day.every.day!

Pain Control

It's probably crazy that I'm typing this.  One handed it is.  I know I did to much this weekend. I also know, that I did not lift anything. I have not been lifting anything.  I want to document this in 'hopes' that I can look back in a few weeks and see how far I've come in my post op recovery.

I had Physical therapy, chiropractor, and a therapy appointment today.  All back-to-back.  I thought I was doing okay on the pain level until about half way into my therapy appointment.  When the pain hit it hit hard.  That was around 4:30pm.  It is now nearly 10:30pm.  I've spent a large portion of the last 2.5 hours in tears. I've taken the maximum (and then some) amount of pain meds that I can take.  My husband is upset that I'm 'on the computer...' he thinks..."you need to sit and relax and not be on the computer...."  When I did that the pain was even more unbearable.  Being on the computer, I'm able to keep mind off the pain for the most part.

The pain has been intense and I've not been able to get on top of the pain. I can't seem to keep the tears at bay.

I believe the physical therapy appointment is a huge culprit in this spurt of uncontrollable pain.  This happened on Thursday, too.  I was feeling 'pretty good' and then the IFC and Ice Treatment didn't go very well.

I'm thinking we will revisit the IFC treatments for sure!!

Pick Me Up

This weekend I have been blessed beyond measure to have one of my best friends travel 6 hours and cross into 2 separate states to come visit me.

 I've blogged before about this beautiful friendship that has transpired over the last year.
You can read a few of the different posts here:

Our First IRL meeting - No Words
Labor Day 2011 - Just Be
During a deep bought of depression that was brought on by a bad side effect from medication last November I made a trip to see S* -- True Friendship

I'm so incredible blessed.  Words can't describe what a wonderful pick-me-up it has been for me to have her here.  She baked my son his birthday cake - a Rainbow Cake.  She will finish it today for me.  My husband had to be gone and help his brother move yesterday morning. She helped me get ready, took my daughter and I into town to meet up w/my mom since I can't drive.  She has spoiled me beyond belief.  She washed my dishes and cleaned my kitchen so my daughter didn't have to do it on her birthday.  She took pictures of my daughter as we walked into our house for a "Surprise 13th Birthday Party".    And SOO many other things.  

Loving on my children and I has been such a blessing.  I needed this pick me up.  It is taking every ounce of my energy to stay above water.  To not let the pain, the pain meds, and just the 'overall' recovery post op pull me down even further.  I've had some pretty tough and emotional days the last 10 days since my surgery.  Tuesday of this last week was a really rough day.  I cried non-stop all day. There was no hiding it from my husband or children.  It was just an overall bad day in which giving up was not far from my thoughts on several different occasions.  When she called late afternoon asking if I would want her and her littles to come for a visit, worrying that the added commotion would be to much...and such...I knew immediately that there was NO saying NO.  She knows that I will tell her kids to be quiet.  Just like I hope and pray she would do the same to mine. And they wouldn't bother me.

Thank You S* for being such a wonderful friend.  For loving on my family and I this weekend.  For stepping up into the places that I physically can't for my children and making their birthdays something to remember.

I love you more than you could ever know!!

Facebook Page

Have you seen "I Will Get Up...Again and Again" on Facebook?  If not check out the FB link on your right.

I Will Be There for You

In our darkest of times, often we turn to our friends in order to help us get through the trials life has/is throwing at us.  I know this has been true for me over the last few years and particularly true for me over the last several months.

If you have been reading my blog for any length of time, you know I have engaged in several struggles over the last year.  I have had several boughts of dark depression.  Each ranging from chemical imbalances unable to be supported by medication, job stress and previous abuse/triggers that are on going, financial frustrations due to being unable to work full-time due to health or other mental health related issues.  Each of these events and more have been incredible challenging.  Challenges which I am certain I could not have overcome with out the love, support and understanding of a few incredible friends.

When I say friends I do not mean acquaintances. I do not mean people I just know through memberships in similar groups or organizations.  I mean people who know who I am, on a deep and personal level, and stood by me when it was difficult to do so.  Who have picked up the phone and made sure that I was okay, when I was certain I didn't know if I was okay.  For many of us, such true friends are few and very far between.  I know that for years I could count mine on one hand.  And even today, can still count them on one hand.

My recent surgery has shown to me who those true friends really are.  Those friends who call because theyc are about who I am.  Who send tid bits here and there to let me know they care.  Who with out expecting anything in return let me know that I am loved.

This my friends is the greatest gift we can give someone.  Thich Nhat Nahn (Buddhist Monk) has a saying:  "The greatest gift you can give someone is to say 'Darling, I am here for you.'"  When someone you call friend puts this saying into action and is truly there for you, it is indeed an incredible gift.

I owe a deep dept of gratitude to the friends who have listened to my aching heart, held my confidences, cared, supported and loved on me more than I ever feel entitled to.  THeir words of caring and comfort create a beam that will continue to lead me through the dark tunnels I have found myself in over the last several months and continue to do so.  You have given me hope and encouraged me to find a path in which I can continue to move forward,  instead of backwards.   And you have become my biggest cheerleaders, believing in me and lifting me up when I feel I can't go on.  I am truly blessed to have each of you in my life.

The only way to ever repay you for what you have given (and continue) to give me is to remind you that; "Darling, I am here for you."  I will answer your call when you reach out and will be there for you as you have been me to me over these trying moments and long days.

I need to be reminded of this tonight.  

Sleeping in my Bed

Not being able to lay in bed has been harder than I would have imagined.  Not being able to retreat to a hot bath is just as hard.  I've not been able to shower in a week because of my incisions.  I could cover them and shower.  However, it would require I use adhesive to 'tape' my arm.  The skin breakdown is already an issue and so I've chosen to protect my skin as much as possible.  My normal coping techniques have been shot out of the park.  This morning, as I sit in my recliner, I'm struggling compose myself.

Sleeping, or trying to sleep, in my recliner isn't going well.  Laying in bed is even worse.  I've had no privacy what-so-ever.  And that part of this recovery process is not one that I was prepared for.  I knew sleeping in my bed was going to be an issue.  I wasn't prepared for the emotional effects this would all have on me.

This morning, the tears are plenty. I slept very little again last night.  Finding myself more and more sleep deprived.  And with that the tears are more.  I'm not coping well this morning.  Unable to stop the tears. Unable to think clearly.  

On a good day with no other factors playing into the mix, I struggle with depression and staying above water. On a good day it takes non stop effort to keep myself going.  I knew this would be tough. I knew it would be work. I knew I would need to be mindful and proactive in order to get past the first few weeks w/o sinking into a deep hole.

I guess my expectations for myself were a bit higher than they should have been.

Adding in the frustration and anger that has taken up residence towards the first surgeon who arrogantly blew me off...and...I'm a mess.

I left my massage and therapy appointments late yesterday afternoon/evening feeling pretty good.  Somewhat empowered and able to fight this battle with my head up high.

Somewhere between my therapy appointment and early this morning I lost it all.  

FYI - On Sleep.

WARNING... sleep deprived. I am not held liable for my actions today ...

I am unable to pull myself together this morning.  My best guess is that sleep..or LACK thereof...is the culprit.  

~Road 2 Recovery~

The road to recovery is going to be long.

I know this road to recovery will not be smooth.  I've been stretched to the limits this last week....literally and figuratively speaking.  Physically and emotionally stretched to the very limits.

Every single day, several times during the day, I consider what would happen if I stopped moving....literally and figuratively.  Immediately post-op I was hell bent that I was going to get back up. I was going to move this arm. I was going to fight to come out on top.  And do everything possible to ensure my range of motion and recovery would move along.

As I mentioned on Friday, the walls are caving in on me.  I've attempted to reduce the amount of pain meds that I've been taking. I know the backlash of being on them for any period of time does.  I've started feeling the effects already.

So I cut back drastically.  And the increase in my mood/foggy thinking was immediately noticeable.  For the better.  However, the increase in pain was also immediately noticeable.  For the worse.

On Friday morning I went to PT/OT for the first time.  The appt went well for the most part and I tolerated it much better than I thought I would.  My appt was originally set for Monday afternoon. However, I have an appt with my H*, my massage therapist and J*, my therapist.  I thought that seeing all 3 ladies back-to-back would be a bit to much.

Full of whirlwind of emotions.  Anything from extreme high and I can do anything to extreme low.

Tonight those lows are pretty low and the pain is pretty intense.  I can't physically go out and about for much time at all.  Yet, need to figure out how to be able to take pain meds, not be triggered into a tizzy bc the meds make me so incredible depressed and irritable.

No clue what tmw brings...

Closing In

These walls are closing in on me.  I'm an emotional mess this morning. And the realization that I am not going to be able to attend a birthday celebration tomorrow at my aunts house has been the icing on the cake.

I have family from Fl here.  Not getting to see them is tough.

I'm not a home body.  These walls are closing in.  I woke up with an overwhelming feeling of suffocating as I sit and look at the same walls and think...3-4 weeks of not sleeping in my bed, of sitting here staring at the same thing....and there is no stopping the tears.  Having my recovery time he doubled what we thought it would be bc of more damage found...suffocating.

The 'DAY' Came and Went

Surgery day came and went.
It wasn't cancelled.
Even though it was really close to being cancelled.

I'm slowly recovering.  Contrary to what the Dr. Quack Surgeon, I first saw back in April/May said...there was quite a bit of damage.  Contrary to what the 2 MRI's I had done revealed...there was quite a bit of damage.

Shortly before going into surgery, my husband and I spoke w/my surgeon.  Asking him about recovery, driving my car, possible return to light-duty and regular duty work...ect ect.  At that point he told us he believed there was a less than 5% chance of me needing my rotator cuff repaired.

He spoke in length with my husband after my surgery.   The surgery was nearly 90 minutes longer than anticipated because of the additional damage needing repaired.

I've had a range of emotions about what the surgeon told my husband and the amount of damage.  I spoke to my surgeon briefly and when he told me what he found I was upset.  It is validating to some lengths.  And it is extremely upsetting all in one.

As expected I'm struggling with pain medication and being able to stay on top pain.  My husband was able to touch base w/H* my massage therapist and get an essential oil that she's used for migraines/nausea.  It worked wonders yesterday as I struggled with getting 'up and down' and any movement.

Originally my surgeon told me we would consider discussing a return to driving/work date of around 10-12 weeks post op.  He told my husband when he spoke to him that I will not be driving for at least 4-6 months. And most likely closer to 6 months. SIX MORE MONTHS before I can return to work.  OUCH.

Even larger OUCH when I think about what the original quack ass doctor told me.  The surgeon told my husband, if I continued to work w/what was going on, it was a matter of time before I did more severe damage and would have needed a complete shoulder repair.  OUCH OUCH OUCH.

And tonight....I'm feeling that "emotional OUCH". On a good day...I'm emotional. Meds tend to increase agitation, depression....and I'm just hoping that the emotional part of this can stay 'at bay'....far far away.

Blog Love - Repost

...reposting this post.  On accident I deleted it this afternoon.
Would you hop on over to "Adventures of a Cornfed Farm Princess" and send her some love and support as she blogs some raw truths.

I'm more than doped up on pain meds.  It is probably a good thing.  When I read the above blog post at the wee hours of the morning that it is right now....I silently cried.  (Because, crying hurts and and then I cry more because I'm in so much pain).

When I'm not swirling in the world of post op pain meds and trying to keep my head in a decent place...I may just write about my own experiences that are so very similar to Adventures of a Cornfed Farm Princess.