Older and wiser?

I thought long and hard over this one, but finally decided to post.
In 2009, my then-neuro put me on diazepam for the twitching legs at night.  It really does help, but I still have trouble some nights.  This spring, my family doctor diagnosed depression and put me on sertraline.  I was hesitant, but decided to follow through.  It had been a rough winter full of death and difficulty and further disability, so I figured it couldn't hurt.

This week I was filling up my little day-by-day pill dispensers, and I held the bottle of diazepam and looked at all the pills in there.  For the first time ever, I made a mental note that one could easily kill oneself with that many pills.  Then I finished prepping the dispenser and put away all my drugs.

Two years ago, such a thought would have me tearing up and reaching for my Recovery books.  I would have been afraid that I might carry out the notion.

This time I simply finished what I was doing, and decided to think about it later.  When I did, I finally concluded that I just don't want to die right now.

For the first time in my life, I am in a fairly decent place.  I am not overworked, although I am now naturally underpaid.  No one expects too much of me, either as family member or otherwise.  It is obvious that I cannot be the go-to person now.

Wouldn't it have been so much better to have learned to say NO sooner, instead of waiting until I was undeniably ill and incapable of performing as Superwoman any more?

I would love to say that I am teaching my daughters not to be Superwomen, but...  BUT.

They are much more likely--and already are--doing as I have done, rather than listening to my good advice.  Now I simply pray for all us Superwomen, and hope we can bow out before we are knocked out.

pb
Little Pond

We can give again!

It's been over fifteen years, but I have finally rejoined the fellowship of those who give blood.  My old work buddy, Stephanie, was looking for anyone to join her at our Clemens Center.  We hugged and then rolled up our sleeves.

Not too different after so many years.  The major difference is that I am no longer hovering just above the lowest weight allowed.  Truthfully, its been more than fifteen years for that, but this time I had no problems with fainting or dehydration.  I ate like a pig before I went.

It's good to be back.

pb
Little Pond

In case you were wondering...

what I have been doing with all my time.  I am exercising on a recumbent bicycle about an hour or so every day.  I am still unable to use a treadmill, but I do also walk a couple -- and by couple, I do mean two--blocks with my daughter.
I haven't lost any weight, not to crow about, but I have been multi-tasking with my video games.

Yep.  I am still a game geek.  Only now I have to admit it.

pb
Little Pond

Sabotage!

Aha!

This week my Recovery training finally kicked in.

I had not recognized my doctor's use of the term "resisting" when he diagnosed the depression.  It simply irked me that my neuro and my family practitioner had consulted "behind my back."

Classic "fearful temper."  And my decision not to attend any sort of therapy:  classic "sabotage."  It is not up to me to diagnose and reject the professional's prescription.

I have returned to my training and am re-reading the three books I acquired over the years.  If necessary, the website offers an updated bibliography.

My next doctor's visit will be in two weeks, I will discuss what happened with him.  If he still decides I need therapy, it is my job to follow through, one way or another.

And my last post?   Anyone trained in Recovery will recognize the sabotage and the resulting physical symptoms.  Most of them have abated.

pb
Little Pond

Surprise.

Either the Zoloft is working, or my daily walks with VeggiGirl are brightening up my day.

Still have uncontrollable shakes, and the sprain is intermittent and echoing at my hips.  I assume the pains in my hips are connected to some sort of compensatory body adjustment.  Still, I am determined to keep at the exercise, and a walking cane is mandatory for any foray from the house.

It's almost comical to witness and discuss my MIL's walking problems.  She claims she doesn't need a cane, but insists that the only problem is her balance.  Well, duh.  Same here. 

VeggiGirl suggests I use a walker in the winter, but frankly, that seems a bit extreme.  If the cane went out from under me, why wouldn't a walker do the same?  It's time to recognize that icy roads and sidewalks are a bit more dangerous for a woman with osteopenia.  My "sprained" finger still hurts, and hurts even more during exercise.  And it's interesting to note the discomfort I feel during the back stretching routine.

Oh, well.   I will do "as much as I can for as long as I can."  It's always worked in the past.

pb
Little Pond

Informal update

At this time last year, it was just beginning to dawn on me that I was disabled.  I could not remember much about the past winter, especially Christmas of 2009, and I was frantically trying to get a grasp of my situation.


Now I do know that I did NOT have an exasperation.  The MRI showed no new damage.


What I did, and still do, have is a worsening of the symptoms.  I am now more tired than ever, although I am  working out as much as possible.  I walk with my daughter on the sidewalks near home, and every week I take her and the two dachshunds to the river for a leash-less visit.


Most of the feeling is back in my hands and legs, but heaviness is the rule, and not the exception.  I sleep eight hours a night and two more at noon.


I am taking very good care of myself, and am being treated for depression.  I know me:  I will adjust and I will come back.


But I cannot yet predict a return to work.


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Little Pond

I'm too old for angst.

At least I thought so until this winter.  I know it's because I am stuck in the house.  The sprained back, reinforced by the broken pinkie, is keeping me inside during this snowy winter.  No more falls, please.


So now I feel the lack of sunshine: aches, anxiety, and depression.  Never mind that I'm already on anti-anxiety meds, along with anti-depressants, as well as loads of antispasmotics.  Several deaths in the family have me crying to go home to my aged mother and father.  At least before they, too, join the growing line of the recently passed.


This trip will cost a fortune.  I cannot stay seated for the eight hours it will take to get to Maine from Elmira, so we are planning on an RV.  This will allow us to bring the kids and grandkids, the latter which my parents have seen in person.


So naturally, the gas prices are rising, perhaps to $5/gallon this year.  The RV alone will likely cost over $1200.00 to rent!  The kids are chipping in, of course, but still, we have to eat and to pay our rented site at Yankeeland Campground.


If we don't pay taxes this year, we can easily afford it, but I know better than that.


We have got to somehow afford this trip.


I just don't know how.


pb
Little Pond