Oh my aching bones…
Yesterday, for the first time in a long while, I came very close to having anxiety overwhelm me to the point of panic attack. The last one I had came from nowhere, really….well, it came from the pain in my head during my last really brutal flare up in a way. The pain kicks into that place where you start to freak out….you can carry only so much before it gets too heavy and you need to find a way out of it. For me, when I hit that level, I panic….try to run away inside my own head but can’t because the pain keeps me too present, try to physically alter the situation but can’t because there just isn’t any medication that will give me an out. It’s flat-out terrifying to have every warning system in your body firing off “We’re in DANGER! We are IN DANGER OF DYING” cycling through your veins, while all you can do is writhe about on the bathroom floor, clutching your head so hard you leave fingerprint bruises, trying to….I don’t know why I do that….contain the pain somehow? The vomiting starts and that, in itself is a thing….when your body thinks it’s in serious danger things tend to, erm, evacuate swiftly. Mine do anyway, all the while the pain in my head is distorting my senses and I can hear e-v-e-r-y-t-h-n-g in the entire world all at once, while light shows shoot off behind my eyelids. I lose the ability to talk properly, or maybe I’m just too busy to fit it in, so I kind of sound like I might be having a stroke and anyone around me at the time is generally holding their phone with the numbers 9-1 pressed…hovering over that last 1. Thank god it’s only happened in public a few times. Then I start to cry and can’t stop and I hate that part because crying all on its own makes my head scream with pain within a few minutes. (I think there is something wrong with my tear ducts and fluid leaks into some cavity causing instant pressure on nerves or blocks blood flow or something of that nature – takes a long while for it to drain and go away. My entire face swells too.)
So, there I was at 2 am on the bathroom floor, sobbing, puking, sweating from every pore in my body and shaking-freezing-cold-dripping wet. I clung to my head so hard with my hands that I broke a nail off in my scalp. I felt like I was going to die from the pain every time I had to raise my body to the toilet so I didn’t have to clean up the floor after it was over, and I didn’t want to wake Dayne…it’s hard on him, seeing me like that. I can only imagine the helplessness one would feel in that situation. I’ve been the hospital route – they do scans and run tests and inject me with chemicals that they watch flow through my veins and then, after lying under those bright lights for a few hours and having no pain medication (they won’t give you anything until they are sure you’re not stroking out) and, eventually, they tell me I suffer from migraine headaches (knew that at age five, thanks for the reminder) and tell me to see my family doc for migraine medication (which doesn’t work – I’ve tried so many I can’t even be bothered to list them), then they look at my arthritis meds, realize that Tylenol 3’s are like baby aspirin in comparison and just kind of shrug.
“Just take a few extra doses of your narcotic pain killers and double the muscle relaxers and drink a lot of fluids for a few days.” They usually say, even though I’m not dehydrated, drink a lot of water in my diet and already know that the pain meds I already take don’t work for this pain. I mean if it was that simple I’d have already taken them right? Not spent 6 hours being shoved inside random machines at the hospital.
*sigh* I sound so ungrateful don’t I? I’m really not…I’m just tired of the three ring circus and just want to just get on with my life. Yes, I have arthritis and yes, my spine is degenerating away to dust inside my body. Yes, I have mental illness issues and a pretty messed up set of personal quirks when it comes to dealing with people in my life. Yes, I’m exhausted all the time and sleep endlessly, or want to, at least, and pass out with or without conscious consent at random intervals, have very messed up, vivid dreams and nightmares both while awake and asleep and YES, damn it, I’m depressed more than I like to admit but can’t we just freaking take that shitty plate, heaped with all that crap that I managed to collect in life and just get on with it? I get it…I accept it…ALL of it, even the merciless pain and fucking sleep that is stealing my life away. I’ll happily take care of myself and just do this thing called life but why, the fuck, do I have to spend my nights either screaming myself awake from nightmares or writhing about on the floor waiting for death to come take this pain away from me? Melodramatic much Grainne? I know. But work is not good just now (the meeting was a giant waste of my time which I will detail in another post, another time. I wrote a novel on it yesterday but was worried I’d put in more detail about my workplace than I should have so wanted to edit…then didn’t. It’s a long story and one I don’t have room in my head for right now.
Anywhoo. Off to work for me. Not sure whether to laugh at this point or cry. I guess I’ll just go with *blank stare* and get on with it.