Since seeing my doc last week, I’ve been living high on the promise of ‘normal’ and a bright future. For once, I had a good, successful weekend. I was content. I began a bit of DIY. As much as sciatica would permit me. I even finally returned to my routine of cooking some precooked meals on Sunday. I haven’t done this since August. I’ve had insomnia/disturbed sleep for the past week. I stopped counting the hours I have slept days ago. But still, I was doing good. Today, also good. Engaging with people at work, telling jokes. But somewhere between 4.30pm and 5pm, the drive home, something changed and I felt the familiar weight of depression sink down on me. A simple thought triggered it. There was no fact to this thought. I acknowledge it is an assumption about my future. But I had it and the result was clear. But this is the alarming thing about the extremes of bipolar. I didn’t just stop at depression and dwell there. I high-dived from ‘good’ straight through depression and crash-landed into suicidal thoughts. I locked my front door and followed my familiar pattern (excluding last week), I went straight to bed. There are tv shows I enjoy and since enjoyment is vital, I set my alarm for 8pm. It was a struggled to get up. I struggled to eat something. Normally when I’m depressed I comfort eat. Before last week, though, I’ve been too depressed to eat. So its back. The loose-a-lot diet of depression. But weight loss is weight loss so who am I to complain. I just can’t believe how quick the change was. I mean, I do believe it because sometimes its exactly how it happens. But mostly its a slow decline. As much as I wanted to believe the whole ‘normal’ schpeel, I just don’t. I’m limited, I’m disabled, I’m deficient. I don’t believe I have much of a future. I’m sad beyond words. I’m tired. Moan, moan, self pity, moan. Let’s adopt some distraction *sigh*
I’m sick. I’m dipping into suicidal ideation more and more. I’ve been holding out for my next doc appointment. It’s on Wednesday. I think he’s going to hospitalise me. This time last year I was hospitalised. Put in a lock-up ward on suicide watch. I don’t want to go back there.
Apparently I was agitated when admitted. I had no idea. After a few days I got an upset tummy. At 5pm I went to the nurses station and asked for something. They told me the porter had left and I had to wait until morning. Lazy excuse. I flipped out. Rage all the way. Arms waving, shouting “what do you mean you can’t get me some simple atropine? Call me craaa-aa-aa-zzzzz-zzzzzy *jazz hands* but this is a hospital!!!”
The nursing sister arrived. The nurse got on the phone to my doc. They gave me a handful of tablets to ‘calm me down’. Within no time I was slurring my words. I couldn’t walk. I’ve been on tablets and I’ve been on heavy duty tables, but this felt different from anything I’d ever taken before. I had to crawl on the floor back to my bed. It was frightening. I didn’t know what was happening to me. The next morning I asked my doc what he gave me.
“What?” he said, puzzled. I told him about the night before. “No one phoned me” he said. “I didn’t prescribe you anything”.
The nurses had given me a large dose of something unknown. I booked myself out of hospital immediately. This time I want ECT. I had it 15 years ago and it worked well. My doc wanted me to have it during the whole Lover Incident earlier this year and I refused. Right now, I need the immediate effects of ECT. I can’t wait around for medication to work? …….or not to work?
And so I wait for Wednesday. Pyjama’s ‘n underwear washed and ready to go.
My bipolar meds make my balance wonky and I’m clumsy. It was how I came to have sciatica in the first place. I fell over doing yoga. So I’m officially calling sciatica a co-morbid condition of my bipolar.
Friday was a good day. I had contacted my psychiatrist. He advised me on what I could and couldn’t take making allowance for my depression. Having had pain from my waist down to my ankle for 8 weeks, on Friday I only had pain in my lower back, the source. I could sit and walk pain free. What a joyous moment. I was healing.
But clumsy on my feet, I took a tumble on Saturday night. I tripped and to break my fall I took the full impact on my sore leg. I just lay on the kitchen floor and cried. It’s now worse than the intial pain. And of course the first thing to follow is suicidal ideation. I decided I would do it. Then I’m scared to do it. So I haven’t done it. My meagre budget battles to cover the unexpected extra expense incured by sciatica. I really don’t see the point of living like this. I work and come home. That’s all my salary allows for. And now I’m doing that in constant pain. I had hope on Friday. I lost it on Saturday. I have cried so much I actually don’t know how my body generates this incessant liquid.
I just desperately want to die. Be dead. Kill myself. Whichever way you want to say it. But don’t worry I won’t kill myself. My belief is as long as I’m talking about, I won’t do it. Its when one is depressed and stops talking about suicide, they’re serious and planning and won’t mention it because their mind is made up and don’t want to be talked out of it.
So life goes on, despite the tears and the pain and the wanting to die. I am so fucked. I love you all, but please don’t comment. I wouldn’t know what to say.
Thank you everyone for reading my last 2 posts and giving me your feedback. Your comments and perspectives are much appreciated. I have no means of replying in good time because I still have no internet at home and there’s only so much blogging I can sneak through at work, especially stuff I want to be thoughtful with – like responding to your comments.
The pain from sciatica has rendered me almost immobile – its been 4 weeks now. My movements are limited to – how far do I have to drive? How far do I have to walk from the car to the shop, how long do I have to stand in the queue and, will I make it back to the car to make the drive and another short walk home? I would say its a real pain in the ass, but its more of a pain in the bum cheek…. and leg….. and calf…. and….. actually its not really funny.
Having no internet has left me loads of time to write. But its kinda rude to keep posting about myself with no reciprocation to yourselves. So, this was a very long way of saying thank you for taking the time to offer your views and personal experiences relative to my previous posts. My friends, you have been extremely helpful, encouraging and have given me pause for thought…..
For those who feel like reading more, my hypomania lasted all of about 6 hours *shrug* that’s rapid-cycling for you, I guess. And as with Bipolar II, I’m back in depression with suicidal ideation. Obviously telling you means I won’t do it. I haven’t let my doc know. Don’t see the point because I’ve run out of money and time off work. Ahhhh, the life of a bipolar. I am fucking exhausted.
Thanks for reading and I hope to be up and running as soon as sciatica allows me to.