March 2, 2011
Here, finally, is third installment of the insanity that has replaced my normal self. It’s been written for 2 weeks but I haven’t had the courage to publish it until now. Catch up on Part One or Part Two if you like.
This is about my attempt to find a happy chemical balance. And it’s not pretty. There’s been a fair amount of self-medicating going on. I will likely gloss over it a bit so no one tries to lock me up in rehab, but… it’s not pretty. I’m a person who normally doesn’t like to take any kind of medication I don’t absolutely NEED. So this is a somewhat new experience for me.
I asked for anti-depressants fairly early on since I wasn’t eating. But it took some time before I realized I also needed anti-anxiety meds. I self-medicated for that for quite awhile. I had plenty of Rx painkillers from the surgery, ectopic and kidney stone. And let’s just say narcotics dull more than physical pain. No, I’m not addicted, but damn, do they take the edge off. I haven’t taken any for awhile now but I do kind of miss them. It’s the only way I can chill out sometimes. Alcohol works to a point. And then I get depressed and start crying. It just seems impossible to truly relax without medicinal help. A little 420 helps, but then my sinuses get messed up from the smoke.
They’ve switched my anti-depressants from cym.balta to pro.zac. I thought it was helping but maybe not. I’m still up and down. Combine this with all my efforts to find the perfect sleep cocktail and we get to add in some more drugs to the mix. Sometimes I have to take something else to keep me awake. With my current sinus issues that’s mostly just real sud.afed. But I also have a friend who takes ader.ol….
So… I take pills to keep me from being depressed. I take pills to help me sleep when it’s time to sleep. I take pills to keep me awake when it’s time to be awake. I am in constant search of something that will help me relax without knocking me out. I just need to be able to function. To get up and go to work. Or get up and work from home. Be able to enjoy a night out with friends. Obviously I have not admitted to my docs the minor drug infractions I’ve been committing (in the grand scheme of things they are relatively minor – for me personally not so much). But I’ve been honest about not being able to function.
I had thought the end of the ectopic would magically cure me of this. No such luck. Now I just get to worry about Pops and his cancer instead. And the upcoming cross-country move and subsequent job search. Ay-yay-ay. I. Just. Want. To. FUNCTION. I need some chemical balance. I probably need some hormonal balance as well. All signs were pointing to normal cycle on that front but alas, the hunger, acne, hormonal wrath, and cramps are NOT due to ovulation/impending CD1. Now I’m just thinking it’s menopause symptoms. I’m a hormonal wreck lately. And then there’s that pain that I thought was from the ectopic… I guess it’s just adenomyosis pain. Sigh.
My new favorite quote from Legally Blonde: “Elle, I know you’re upset about all this, but can’t you just take a Percocet?” If only. As much as the perc.oset helps… you can’t function (not well, anyway) on it.
May 10, 2010
So. I did it. And I survived. I’m somewhat bruised, but I survived. Fortunately, even though my father was not really much help, one of his friends was around to help me. My counselor had suggested that since Right Guy would be working today and couldn’t be there that I have someone or something planned to help me feel better after talking with Momz. Pops is always hit or miss with his moods these days but he is normally who I would turn to so that was my plan. But he was a bit of a miss today. But two of his friends were over for dinner (it’s a weekly Sunday night get together) and those two are kind of surrogate fathers to me – they helped him raise me. So that was good.
I told her. I pretty much spit out all the facts and waited to see how she would react. Perhaps I should have done it in phases. There are essentially two news items for her to react to: (1)my condition and the health issues and (2) the fact that we are trying to get pregnant. If I knew I wanted her to react to the first item first perhaps I should have held off on the second. But no, I’m a glutton for punishment and I set myself up big time. My bad. I really should know better.
Of course she reacted first to the news that we are actively trying to get pregnant. While not married. That was the VERY FIRST THING out of her mouth “What about marriage?” As if a little thing like a legal document that I don’t even care about matters in this situation. Will a marriage certificate get me pregnant? I don’t think so. Will the few eggs I have left care whether or not we’re married? Doubtful. Will his sperm stop to knock on the egg’s door and request a marriage certificate before entering? Not f*cking likely. Will marriage prevent me from getting osteoperosis? Nope. But I still had to spend about 20 minutes justifying not being married.
And then she asked a strange question. I’m pretty sure it was not idle curiosity. She wanted to know if we were… ahem… doing this at home or were there ‘procedures’ involved. I could be mistaken but I feel fairly confident that she wanted to know whether I was actively sinning by having sex with the man who lives in my house or if we were being good Christians and having my doctor inseminate me with his non-sinful sperm. WTF? Only my mother would ask this in that context. Maybe she just wanted to know what else she needed to pray for. I thought my sinner’s soul was already on that list but maybe she just likes to be specific about WHICH sins to pray for.
You might be wondering how many of my predictions came true? Let’s see….
1pt – She did indeed tell me about all 3-5 of her miscarriages (2 of them she’s not sure about because there was no confirmed pregnancy). Mercifully not for a full hour.
0pt – She did not make any hot flash jokes.
1/2pt – I don’t think she knows anyone with osteoperosis. But she did mention her sister and how hunched she is these days. And how she is now taller than her sister because of this (see Tell Me About Your Mother… to find out why height is such an issue) le sigh
0pt – She did not tell me she was happy that I was trying and although she did refrain from Bible lecturing she definitely made an issue of me not being married.
1pt She will indeed be praying for me. Fortunately there was no laying of hands on me in public or private.
1pt – She showed me all of her natural supplements for bone health.
1pt – Make me feel uncomfortable? Check.
1pt – I did get a hug and she did talk about herself for an hour.
My score: 5.5/8
What was I most surprised about during this encounter? I should have known. There’s always something that, in retrospect, I feel I should have expected but somehow didn’t see coming. With Premature Ovarian Failure sometimes there are known causes. Chemotherapy and genetic disorders top the list for causes. And then there are other things that are not direct causes but are often found as co-conspirators so to speak. That list consists mainly of auto-immune disorders and heredity. My RE has pretty much ruled out everything in my case- including heredity. My RE ruled out heredity because I had told her that my mother went through menopause at the normal time – sometime around age 50, maybe a year or two earlier. Which is true. And completely normal.
I know this because I distinctly remember being in a mall with Momz when I was 16 (which would make her about 49) and she was fanning herself with her hands and in general making quite a spectacle of herself. There was nothing discrete about it. In fact, she even explained herself to the female employee working the jewelry kiosk. “It’s menopause. I’m having a hot flash.” I was mortified. I was 16. What other reaction could I have possibly had at that age? It is etched in my brain. And every time I have a hot flash in public I remember it. Because I refuse to be her. And honestly, the hot flashes do SUCK. But I have never felt the need to engage in histrionics while I’m having one – in public OR in private. Strip naked and stand in front of the AC vent in my own house? Yes. Wave my hands about wildly? No. This story is really hysterical when I tell it in person and can imitate her.
So when she asked if it could be hereditary because she had gone through menopause early I was a bit mystified. And she wasn’t asking this in a “OMG, I’m sorry, could I have done this to you by passing along bad genes?” sort of way. It was more of a “OMG, maybe I have this condition too and they just didn’t know about it back then!” sort of way. She sounded almost… excited. All. About. Her. Always.
Anyway, I survived. It could have been much much worse. And I no longer have to pretend everything is wonderful if I don’t feel like pretending. So I’ll just have another glass of wine and put this Mother’s Day to bed.