The Monkey And The Psych…

So, yesterday I went to the psychiatrist.  I never really thought this would be one of the doctors I would have to see, but since it is, I will be open about it.  I took my sister with me because it is very easy for me to get lost in what a doctor is up to and then get strange medicines or painful procedures.  Luckily, this doctor did not have those intentions and in fact made every effort to not only read my file before I came in and was prepared with an overall plan and the possible deviations.

Most importantly, he has studied Chiari Malformation and assured me that what I am experiencing is normal and that it is a scary time of transition and frustration.  He is a geriatric psychiatrist, so he is familiar with memory issues and the frustrations that come from it, and he is able to draw the comparisons between those types of memory loss and my own.

Having my sister there was awesome because she is like my external memory.  He asked if I had nightmares, I said not really.  My sister told him that I experience nightmares much more often than I ever have in my life.  I call or text her when anything happens, and apparently, I have bouts of severe depression and these nightmares, but I don’t even remember them.

I often bring my family members to my appointments with me because they are able to tell the doctors the things I can’t articulate or just don’t remember.  I struggle with riding shotgun at my own doctor appointments, but I realize that I am blessed to have such a wonderful family.

In the end, the visit gave me a sense of relief.  I didn’t have to explain Chiari to him, I didn’t have to explain how things just changed one day, and he looked at my file before I came in.  He took the time to be a good doctor and to give me hope that even if it takes a long time, there can be some type of recovery, but that my symptoms are debilitating and I am not crazy.

Then, we talked medication.  Because my sister has been on anti-depressants before he asked about her experience and because metabolically we are similar, he chose a light dose of Lexapro (10mg) split in half for 10 days, then up to a whole pill.  While I am not fond of these medications, I am not tied to it forever.  He was adamant that I take no new medications before I see him again so that we can accurately gauge how effective it is and if there are any undesirable side effects.

Today was my fist dose.

I don’t feel any different (of course!).

Yet, I have more hope, and that is always a good start.

 

The Monkey Goes Forward

So, I got the results from my nerve tests.  Normal.  Upper and lower are normal.  First, THANK GOD!  I don’t have nerve damage, and that is very cool.  Still, that leave me with the same symptoms and no answer for them.  Why are my hands going weak when I use them?  Why does only my left leg burn and tingle and sometimes forget to work?  Why are all of these symptoms worse when I have a headache?

I had no idea that the road would be this long after I had surgery, but I only see obstacles ahead.  Every day I am praying for the strength to overcome these obstacles and be strong enough to reach some type of medical conclusion about my body.

I will likely be going back to the neurologist with new scans but the same old problems.  This is the life of a patient.  This is what happens when your condition is not understood.  I wish I didn’t have to experience this but hopefully, my struggles will inspire someone else to keep going even when it looks impossible.

I will go to therapy today and this will probably be a main topic today.  I am trying to look at this situation and see that I have everything I need to get through this period of medical tests, but I don’t want to be labeled “crazy” or “hypochondriac”.  I remember clearly in the year before my surgery, going to the doctor over and over again, being told that nothing was wrong and that I might have some other thing going on.  So, I started seeing a psychologist because I figured I needed help if that is what my doctors were saying.  Then, I went to the doctor in a rage one day, I demanded that something be done because SOMETHING WAS WRONG IN MY BODY.  He agreed and ordered an MRI of my neck, where they discovered my brain residing.  Immediate brain MRI.  Then to the neurosurgeon.  Off to neurosurgery 2 weeks later.

When I cried and pleaded with them, they told me I was seeking attention.  When they got abnormal results, I am in surgery less than 35 days later.  I don’t know that I need surgery again, I certainly don’t want it again.  I want my symptoms acknowledged and looked into, as they are almost identical to the symptoms I exhibited prior to my diagnosis.  This is not an easy road.  It certainly isn’t what I wanted it to be.

I will keep moving forward, in the belief that this will not last forever and I will be granted the grace to get through this particular time in my life.

The Monkey’s Heart

I am thinking about him.  His smile.  His voice.  His unending love for people in general.  If I had met him 3 years ago, I would have been all over him.  I would chase him relentlessly, hoping that he would like me.  I see him often, but I probably come off as closed-up.  I never thought I would feel like I wasn’t good enough for someone.

I have a sordid past (don’t we all?  we don’t?  um, ok) and one of my favorite goals used to be getting the catch.  I would use all of the things about myself that I could to snag the man I wanted.  Low-cut tops?  If that’s what he likes.  Interesting conversation?  I am intelligent enough to stimulate any man’s imagination.  Funny?  I get all the laughs.  I could be whatever I needed to be and I have never been turned down by a man I have pursued.

I never considered that I would want more than to play with a man’s heart and body.  They were toys, something to do until I got tired of them and left them for a fresher pursuit.  A game to be played, a land to be conquered, a battle to be won.

Now I look back on the string of hearts I have broken and I ask myself why couldn’t I just be what they needed me to be?  Why did I sink the ships when ‘love’ was mentioned?  Why was I never able to marry the feelings in my heart with the feelings in my body?  I cared for them.  I tried to be there when they needed me.  Still, none of them were able to overtake the fortress I had built around my heart.

Now I look out of the turrets of my mind over miles and years of conquests and challenges met and exceeded, yet I am still alone.  Now, it is different.  My daughter will be an adult in three years.  THREE YEARS!!!  I fully expect and hope that she leaves me and makes her mark on the world.  After that, I suppose I will be all alone.

For the first time, that scares me.  It didn’t when I had a job and a career ahead of me.  It didn’t when I had full use of my body and mind.  Now, I couldn’t be more afraid that I am reaping what I have sown all these years.  NOTHING!  I invested no time in a relationship.  I changed my phone number after the last one and never looked back.  It has been about 7 years and now I wonder what would be different if I had tried to actually love someone.

Now, I look at myself and I no longer see the youthful, fun-loving woman who could change into whoever she wanted to.  I walked away from all of that when I began serving in ministry.  Now I look in the mirror and I see every pound I have gained since brain surgery.  I notice every extra lump and curve.  I see the purple bags under my eyes.  I find all of the grey hair that has become visible since my surgery.  I examine my life and I feel so ugly.

I am a grown woman, but I live with my parents because I can’t work.  I am a mother, but I can barely keep up with my own teen child.  I need to sleep with a machine so that I don’t stop breathing at night.  I sometimes don’t get up for anything except to go to the bathroom because I am in so much pain.  I don’t shop for pretty undies anymore, because I can’t afford them.  I don’t go out and enjoy life because I can’t afford to.  I have nothing but baggage to bring to a relationship, and I think that is horrid.  Other people may not think so, but I am not other people.

I can put on makeup and be ‘pretty’ by the standards of the world, but I know what lies underneath all of the concealer and foundation.  I can put on nice clothes and look like I have it together, and I am amazed at how many people think that even matters.  A real relationship isn’t about my face or clothes, it is about a partnership.  Two people giving everything they have to one another.  All I have is problems.  I may believe there is light at the end of the tunnel, but at the part where I am right now, it is very dark and lonely.

I try to focus on my health; physical and mental, emotional and spiritual.  I want to get better, maybe then I will feel worthy of someone or anyone.  I want to pay my way and be independent, and I want to love living again.

I never thought I would be alone.  I thought I would always have work and friends and a social life that would keep me surrounded and feeling good about how life was going.  Now, I think about spending the rest of my life with myself.  I don’t think I like me that much to want to be alone with myself for the next 20 or 30 years.  I also don’t want to get into a relationship with someone just because I am scared of being alone.

It didn’t scare me until it felt like it wasn’t my choice anymore.

Now I sit and look at him and imagine how it might have been, but will never be.  Like the creep I am, I inhale deeply when he gives me a hug.  I miss the smell of a man.  At times, when I really want to be near him, I avoid him at all costs, knowing that my face or words will betray my true feelings and I will have to explain myself.  I desperately hope that he finds a girl and marries her soon, so I can stop hoping that my body will miraculously be healed and I can be a normal girl and tell him how I feel.

I crave physical closeness but I deny emotional intimacy.  I use men for my own pleasure (at least that is how I normally operate) and when they enjoy it too much I end it and watch them crumble.

Here I crumble, alone.  Looking out at lands I will never even visit, let alone conquer.  Hoping that I am enough for me.  Hoping that time doesn’t leave me stranded in this broken body.  Praying for a miracle.

I just want to feel worthy again.