Over the weekend my family celebrated my son's third birthday. It was a wonderful experience watching the children play and eat. We went to the Rain Forrest Cafe in a nearby mall. We rented a wheel chair for me so that I could visit some of the stores and get around easily. The trip was overly painful and exhaustive, but worth every minute of suffering.
I was very pleased with how quickly I recovered, and in my excitement of feeling mildly 'ok' I asked my mother to take my son and I to the bookstore yesterday. During the adventure my son misplaced his hat, and my mother went to look for it while Lincoln and I browsed the kids area.
I turned round and Lincoln was gone. He had run off to play in the toy area. The poor child looked up at me and said, "I peed." His eyes were pleading, and his little hands were stretched out as if he was asking me to pick him up and take him away to a safe place. All I could do was stand there and hold his hand while we waited for his grandmother to come and help get him cleaned up. I felt I had failed as a parent because of my disability.
Today the pain is very severe. The combination of the trip to the mall, and the trip to the bookstore, has left me reeling in agony. Everything burns on my right side, and all I can think to do is hope I pass out sooner, rather than later, and pray when I come to the pain has subsided. I'm not at a point were I may have to go to the hospital, but if the pain continues to grow I may end up there at some point. Time will tell I suppose.
I'm up to the full dose of the PTSD medication I was prescribed, and I'm not sure it's working. I'm still having nightmares, but I'm waking up in the midsts of them very startled. If, in my dream, I'm dropping something, I awake grasping for it. The sudden jerks at the time of awakening have caused pain levels to be aggravated due to accidental bumps of the limbs during the thrashing about. I'm also still very jumpy and sensitive to loud noises.
When anything gets loud I start to loose my patience, grind my teeth, and if it's sudden enough I find myself curling away to protect the parts of my body that aren't afflicted with RSD. I have no control over these reactions, and, believe me, I've made several attempts to minimize the behavior with no success.
Thank you all for taking the time to read,
K.M. Shear
Showing posts with label PTSD. Show all posts
Showing posts with label PTSD. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
The Full Dose
Last night was the first time taking the full dose of my PTSD medication. I haven't seen much of a change in my dream patterns. It's interesting that I now wake up mid dream though. Last night I had a dream that my son was falling through an elevator shaft, the door had closed on my leg, and I was reaching for him desperately. I woke up flailing and in tears. The flailing doesn't seem to be helping me with my pain.
I have hopes that I'll be able to clean up a poem I began work on during my appointments last week. I wrote it in the waiting area. I hate that area. It's sterile, white, and wreaks of mental institution. I'm only mildly psychologically impaired and I felt like I had been committed; can't fathom what this would be like for an individual breaking at their psychological core. The room is complete with old fashioned television broadcasting some form of white trash project, unfinished puzzle on the single round table at the back of the room. The windows are covered with a metal mesh screen, and the men in white lab coats drift here and there collecting their next subject with the mild call of a name. You can feel the discomfort of others as they glance about wondering what form of hell they just stepped, or wheeled, into.
I set out to write a journal entry, but the only thing that came to mind was poetic in nature. I hope I can finish it and post it on my Shear's Shorts site. There's a link to the right that you can click to get to it.
My Fentanyl patches seem to want to only stick to my fore arms. I've tried to get them to hold on for their three day period in other places, but to no avail. I'm sure the appearance of the patches on my arms makes doctors question my use of them. Even when I try to explain they turn a distrusting eye in my direction. Since the appliance of the patches I haven't needed to be seen in an Emergency Room, and I think that should be a check mark in the 'win' column, but my sleep schedule is wrecked, if not non-existant, and some days I feel an unstoppable drag pulling me into sleep state while other days I can't seem to calm down.
Enough droning for one morning. I have words to craft.
My humblest appreciation to those of you still reading,
K.M. Shear
I have hopes that I'll be able to clean up a poem I began work on during my appointments last week. I wrote it in the waiting area. I hate that area. It's sterile, white, and wreaks of mental institution. I'm only mildly psychologically impaired and I felt like I had been committed; can't fathom what this would be like for an individual breaking at their psychological core. The room is complete with old fashioned television broadcasting some form of white trash project, unfinished puzzle on the single round table at the back of the room. The windows are covered with a metal mesh screen, and the men in white lab coats drift here and there collecting their next subject with the mild call of a name. You can feel the discomfort of others as they glance about wondering what form of hell they just stepped, or wheeled, into.
I set out to write a journal entry, but the only thing that came to mind was poetic in nature. I hope I can finish it and post it on my Shear's Shorts site. There's a link to the right that you can click to get to it.
My Fentanyl patches seem to want to only stick to my fore arms. I've tried to get them to hold on for their three day period in other places, but to no avail. I'm sure the appearance of the patches on my arms makes doctors question my use of them. Even when I try to explain they turn a distrusting eye in my direction. Since the appliance of the patches I haven't needed to be seen in an Emergency Room, and I think that should be a check mark in the 'win' column, but my sleep schedule is wrecked, if not non-existant, and some days I feel an unstoppable drag pulling me into sleep state while other days I can't seem to calm down.
Enough droning for one morning. I have words to craft.
My humblest appreciation to those of you still reading,
K.M. Shear
Monday, January 31, 2011
Exhaustive Progress
I would like to start by expressing my sincerest apology to all of my readers. I had never intended on letting my disability get in the way of providing detailed information and opinions to my readers' awareness. It's been several days since my last posting.
Truth be told, I've found myself very drained since my last set of medical appointments. Last Monday I was scene in Milwaukee to evaluate my nightmares, and then a full day was spent this past Thursday at the North Chicago facility for evaluations in conjunction to my claims. Progress was made, but was severely taxing on my own level of will. I've spent several days now over the last week simply unconscious; with a mind to create and write, but no will to do so. I'm not sure if it's a matter of depression, or simply my body quitting on me. I'm unsure if I'd even want to know. If it's depression I'm doomed to adding more mediations to an, already, oversized list. If it's my body unable to handle the stresses I put it through then it stands to reason that future endeavors may put me out of commission as well...
I learned that the symptoms I'm exhibiting are those of an individual with PTSD. They prescribed Prazosin to help ease the nightmares, and want to keep an eye on me to combat my other symptoms if they get overly grand. Sadly, because my trauma is ongoing, I can not be diagnosed with PTSD, but they'll be treating me as a PTSD patient... I'm not sure what kind of medical sense that makes, but that's what I've been told.
The full day of diagnostics on Thursday really took a toll. I was examined by 4 different professionals and had multiple ex-rays and scans completed. The doctors seemed honestly baffled that I was denied my initial claim. The neurologist even told us that his initial write up was of an individual barely able to conduct the basest of human activity. We were given his name and express instructions to contact him should we be denied another time. Amy was allowed to be present through every examination except the psychological exam. This was a major difference compared to previous visits. There was a certain level of remorse and explanations that they couldn't comprehend how they denied the benefits increase. I suppose that if things have to go to a hearing level we'll have their doctor's testifying on our behalf...
I'm hoping that I've caught up on my sleep and have recuperated enough to start my life again. I'm not overly tired at the moment and think I'll journal a bit (I keep a paper journal) and work on some poetry. If I manage to stay awake tomorrow then I have plans to finish 'The Three Musketeers' and find a new piece of literature to delve into. The last few days my vision has been terrible, and I attribute it to the exertions of last week. Time will only tell. I'll make plans to have a new post with updated information later in the week...
Thank you all for taking the time to read,
K.M.Shear
Truth be told, I've found myself very drained since my last set of medical appointments. Last Monday I was scene in Milwaukee to evaluate my nightmares, and then a full day was spent this past Thursday at the North Chicago facility for evaluations in conjunction to my claims. Progress was made, but was severely taxing on my own level of will. I've spent several days now over the last week simply unconscious; with a mind to create and write, but no will to do so. I'm not sure if it's a matter of depression, or simply my body quitting on me. I'm unsure if I'd even want to know. If it's depression I'm doomed to adding more mediations to an, already, oversized list. If it's my body unable to handle the stresses I put it through then it stands to reason that future endeavors may put me out of commission as well...
I learned that the symptoms I'm exhibiting are those of an individual with PTSD. They prescribed Prazosin to help ease the nightmares, and want to keep an eye on me to combat my other symptoms if they get overly grand. Sadly, because my trauma is ongoing, I can not be diagnosed with PTSD, but they'll be treating me as a PTSD patient... I'm not sure what kind of medical sense that makes, but that's what I've been told.
The full day of diagnostics on Thursday really took a toll. I was examined by 4 different professionals and had multiple ex-rays and scans completed. The doctors seemed honestly baffled that I was denied my initial claim. The neurologist even told us that his initial write up was of an individual barely able to conduct the basest of human activity. We were given his name and express instructions to contact him should we be denied another time. Amy was allowed to be present through every examination except the psychological exam. This was a major difference compared to previous visits. There was a certain level of remorse and explanations that they couldn't comprehend how they denied the benefits increase. I suppose that if things have to go to a hearing level we'll have their doctor's testifying on our behalf...
I'm hoping that I've caught up on my sleep and have recuperated enough to start my life again. I'm not overly tired at the moment and think I'll journal a bit (I keep a paper journal) and work on some poetry. If I manage to stay awake tomorrow then I have plans to finish 'The Three Musketeers' and find a new piece of literature to delve into. The last few days my vision has been terrible, and I attribute it to the exertions of last week. Time will only tell. I'll make plans to have a new post with updated information later in the week...
Thank you all for taking the time to read,
K.M.Shear
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