I know that my last few posts have been a less than cheery, and I wish I could take some of those negative thoughts back. Things have just been kind of hard lately—as in, more crying than usual, more feelings of desperation and despair and what if things stay like this forever? Nothing scares me more than being in pain forever, and navigating the healthcare system is an absolute fucking nightmare. If I have to punch my way through one more automated messaging system, heads might roll.
Because Dr. A is a plane ride away (and because he doesn't take insurance and costs a boatload of cash) I decided to find a local doctor to check in with. Problem is, finding a good specialist and scheduling an appointment in any kind of timely fashion is dang hard. Can someone explain why a doctor can't just take five minutes to pick up the phone and speak to me directly? Why must I leave messages for your nurse, who must then catch you between appointments to relay them, and then call me back to relay her messages? WHY? #inefficiency
After a couple of worthless appointments in the past few weeks at the supposedly "speciality" clinic where I went last year, I finally got back in touch with that doctor I saw in October. He doesn't actually see patients now (he's affiliated with my university and mostly does teaching and research) but will start in September and offered to take me on. Just getting that e-mail from him made me feel way better—he's got my medical records and knows the situation, so I have a much better gut feeling overall. Hopefully I'll be able to see him soon.
With that all being said, I am trying really hard to get back into the headspace I was in earlier this summer—when things were hard but manageable, when I had faith that my body would eventually heal, and when I felt that positive thinking and coping skills were within my control. Now, things have started to feel totally out of control, and it's scaring me more than I realized.
Having my friend here really threw me for a loop. I was majorly triggered ED-wise with an intensity I haven't felt in a long time. I started feeling this desperate need to restrict, work out, lose weight. I felt huge and blobby, and felt like the only way through was to run for hours. But, of course, I am trapped in this broken body that won't let me.
So then I started fixated on the nerve pain. I watched my friend hop out of bed every morning and hit the roads on her bike, traipsing across College City raving about the sights, the weather, the delicious exhaustion of having sweated through the morning, and meanwhile I sat there listening to her and wanting to cry.
This is nobody's fault, it's just the painful reality of the moment. A few weeks ago, I was beginning to accept that as a temporary condition, reminding myself that life could be worth living as long as I hung in there and hed on to the belief that things will get better, and I need to get myself back into that mindset.
Good news: Mama Bear is coming to visit next week, and I am SO ready to have some quality mom/daughter time. I am considering bringing her along to my therapy appointment this week. Haven't decided yet, but I think it might be good for both of us.
Okay, take care everyone. Things will be more interesting/exciting/happy around here soon—I PROMISE I'm trying. No one wants to read about Grumpy Kaylee!