Creeping Heebie Jeebies

**Trigger Warning for some talk of Self Harm in this blog post. If you think you may be affected by this please don’t read.**

Hey there, long time no speak, and I am back like a bad penny. It seems I use this blog like I use the Mental Health Services, when the crap hits the fan I dial up the IJAR blog and unload my woes. This time it’s almost 4am and the Creeping Heebie Jeebies are settled in for the second night running. If I call it that instead of a.n.x.i.e.t.y. it won’t be as bad, and will have that jovial sense of humour I am so well known for… HA! Continue reading

Getting Nuked

Yesterday was a first.

When I saw my Consultant way back in the early Summer she mentioned that she would like to get a C.T. scan done to see if there were any “organic” reasons as to why I was hearing voices and having “pseudo” visual hallucinations. I agreed to this as I wanted to rule out everything possible for the things that had been going on for years. My old team up north had never broached anything like this so this just further suggested to me that I was getting a wholly different kind of treatment down here. Continue reading

Tough Day

It’s been a bit tough around these parts today. It’s my Mums Birthday. We hadn’t made any real plans for it. I was going to cook whatever she wanted for dinner and we were probably going to watch a movie this evening. Somewhere along the way this week it evolved (I am starting to hate that word) into buying a Bar-B-Que and having a little family get together. I thought this was a great idea, Mum doesn’t get bored and the food will be “different”

The plan this morning was for my Sister In Law to come around at about 11.30 and for my Brother to follow once his church service had finished and then Mum and SIL would go out and buy the Bar-B-Que and requisite items to go with it. Then once the hardware was bought it would get ferried home by Taxi and they would head to get the food part of the day. All good so far. This all went off to plan. When the hardware arrived my Brother set to putting it together (he is better at things like that… fuck he’s better at most things than me… but that’s just my general fucked up view of things… it’s supposed to be the older brother who leads the way.. not in this family.) It took him about 30 minutes to put the Bar-B-Que together… I would still be fighting over the legs 12 hours later. Once Mum and SIL arrived home with a metric tonne of food to be cooked we had just about gotten to the stage of lighting the damn thing. According to those congregated it was my job to set the fires going and to cook the food. I fought for thirty minutes trying different ways of getting that dam thing burning properly. We, in the end, used about 2/3 of a bottle of lighter gel and after about another thirty minutes it was raging like a trooper.

Needless to say my brother had taken over after I had all but admitted defeat at the hands of the charcoal briquettes . I did however take over the cooking and managed to cook some pork steaks and not burn them. I moved on to the food on skewers and managed to singe a few sausages. I knew I was on to a losing battle as my anxiety levels were gradually creeping up. The kids were hungry and things just weren’t moving fast enough to keep everyone happy. I started getting that feeling you get when everyone is watching you judging every move you make.  I handed the cooking tongs over to my Brother and he was in his element cooking away with a beer in hand. (What I wouldn’t have given for a cold beer today, but with the Seroquel and extra Lorazapam I had taken it just wasn’t wise for me to drink as well.)

My brother handled the rest of the cook duties for the afternoon with a plomb. the only things that looked a bot weird were the sausages.. they went from Brown to Black…but perfectly edible. They weren’t burnt at all and I had two or three of them so they must have been allright.

I guess it’s my inadequacies that I foster and imagine that make my success in anything where my brother is concerned all the worse. I have written before about how he is better at virtually everything we have or have had in common. I honestly can’t think of a single thing that I do “better” than him. He is Musical he is a tech guru (He can build websites from a blank notepad page and make it look good.. he is also a great parent something that I am sure that if I was in the same position wouldn’t be the case. I may be the funky uncle but I am sure I would make a shit Dad.. probably wise that Linda and I couldn’t have kids then.)

OK this is just turning into one big fucking Pity Me party so I am gonna go and wallow in bed and try not to wake up until after Easter is all over.

Until Next Time…

Invisible Illness and Getting Caught

I was trawling through the disability blogs this morning. I usually have about 9 or 10 new posts from various sources to read. This morning was about normal except I found a blog I read a blog I didn’t have book marked or in my Google Reader. It was Benefit Scrounging Scum. This lady is bendy in all the wrong ways. She has Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. I must admit I have heard of the illness through Twitter but haven’t really read up on what it does to some one. From what I gather it causes severe Joint pain and causes limbs and joints to pop out of their sockets at any given moment whether it’s convenient or not.

BSC, in this article ruminates on getting shopped to the DWP for benefit fraud. She is worried that because she doesn’t look ill for the entire month and can for all intents and purposes feel and look good for a few days that someone could misconstrue that she is faking it and being exactly what her nom de plume suggests. For anyone with a genuine illness that doesn’t confine you to a wheel chair 24/7, I imagine that this is something that crosses all our minds, especially when rabid dogs like the Daily Mail set about the “Work Shy” on benefits. It all stokes the fires.

For me, as I have posted a few times on this blog, I get very paranoid about being followed by the Government or by some strange organisation who are trying to catch me out for claiming benefits when I am seemingly perfectly well enough to work. I don’t want this to sound like a pity me post, that’s not what I set out to write. I just thought I’d reiterate what I had said before. With all the furore surrounding ESA and it’s introduction over the next few months and how apparently hard it is to get through the Medical, this has amplified my paranoia to such an extent that I hate going out on my own any more. Walking to the local corner shop is a gut twisting always looking behind me exercise. I am only out of the house no more that ten minutes, less if there is no one ahead of me in the shop. Being a biog fella I always end up out of breath and needing an inhaler or two once I get back. It’s not that I am that unfit it’s just that I find it hard to breath when power walking at 30 mph.

There is nothing more that I would like than to go back to work. To make more money than I get on Benefits. I have stuff I want to buy that is just out of my range being on benefits. It’s been that way for nearly three years now and to be quite frank I am seriously pissed off with my body that I don’t think I can actually take much more of it’s pissy moods and general inability to function as a regular human being. It’s maddening to to know that I have all this untapped potential that is screaming to get out but my body and more so my brain letting me down constantly.

Fuck it I have done exactly what I said I* didn’t want to do and made this all about me.

If you are one of the one who suffer with an invisible illness, (and I know this is easier said than done) but don’t let the fuckers get you down. The plain facts of the matter are that if you are claiming benefits and have been granted them on a “permanent” basis then you should have nothing to fear as you have made your case and had your medicals. The only thing you should be worrying about is how to make it through the next few minutes, hours, days. We all know that they aren’t going to make it easy on us in any way shape or form. We just have to stand strong and fight the fight when we let ourselves do that.

Until Next Time…

 

 

I Can See

I had a crappy nights sleep last night. It wasn’t due to being excited, but it could have had something to do with sleeping for over 8 hours during the day yesterday. I was up at 6am this morning and relatively pain free so I crashed out on the couch rather than sit around staring at the computer again. When I say pain free, I mean that for the past couple of weeks when I wake up in the morning I have an awful pain in my lower back and moving cuts off my ability to breathe. I have put this down to a possible weight gain or that it’s time to quit smoking and get rid of the junk in my lungs. I think 20 years smoking is more than enough. I am bored by it all anyway… so to that end when I have run out of tobacco I will try and quit…. cold turkey.

This may change depending on what happens when I run out.

So, yeah… I got my new glasses today. I went into town with Linda as she had a group meeting at the job centre this morning. I didn’t quite realise that I would be left to my own devices for quite so long. My anxiety levels went through the roof after I left the opticians. I was suddenly very exposed and I felt everyone was watching me. The CBT side of my head said

“don’t be silly”

The voices in my head were saying..

“There gonna catch you, You’re gonna get busted HIDE FATBOY HIDE

Needless to say the voices won over any CBT solutions I had ever learned. I kind of wish that the react-a-lite lenses in my glasses were more sensitive so they could have hidden my eyes and I could have hidden away behind the darkened lenses. Not that it would have helped much. My glasses are only so big.

I wrote in my last post that I would post a picture of them. I tried quite a few times to get a good picture of me wearing the but they all look like a fat headed idiot wearing some rather fetching glasses. So I scrapped all of them and plonked them onto my printer and took this picture:

My New Goggles

Apparently the technical term for these glasses are skull grippers… at least that’s what the nice lady in Specsavers called them. So I have skull Gripper glasses, just as long as they don’t grip as tight as the last pair that left my head with tram lines that a large gauge train could have run down. Here is a slice of me wearing them, I had to cut the rest of my face out… this is a respectable website… I save the horror for Stumpfinger.

Me with the Glasses On

My mood hasn’t improved greatly. I think I tried to escape it all yesterday by sleeping and I admit that I did go back to bed for a while when I got home from town. Not that it helped much as I still feel stressed and on edge.  I am doing my level best at trying to pull myself out of this funk. but it’s a sticky bugger and it seems to want to stick around. It seems that there is a lot of depression around the Mentally Interesting Blogosphere. Mine is by no means as bad as some that I have read and my heart goes out to anyone that is struggling with getting through each day. I just hope that once Spring starts to show it’s little head through the grey murky clouds, things will start to improve for people, It’s been no real Winter here. We had the snow before Christmas that virtually ground the country to a halt and ever since we have had a few cold days and a shit load of rain. It seems to have rained virtually every day around here for the past two weeks, and not the heavy pounding rain it’s that pissy little dribbles of rain that soak you to the skin and leave you chilled. At least with the heavy rain you get wet and that’s that, this stuff is like acid and burns through every layer of clothing you are wearing.

Oh well I seem to have sunk as low as an English Man can writing on a blog… I started talking about the weather… and moaning about it at that. I think it’s time for me to go and fix Dinner… Spag Bol tonight.

Until Next Time…

Breaking In A New Doctor

Yesterday we went and met our new GP for the first time. All three of us went en mass to see him, we booked three 10 minute slots with him and needless to say we were there over an hour. I bet he didn’t get home for his tea on time as by the time we had finished with him at 5.30pm his waiting room was filling up nicely.

Now let’s get things straight from the start. He seems like a nice bloke. He is Dutch and is easily understandable. I think once he gets used to the way we work with our primary carers he won’t be so quick to jump on small matters at a rate of knots.

Mum saw him first and she was in there a good 20 minutes (remember the ten minute slots) and once she came out she was suitably impressed as he had given her a few things to think about and had changed up her meds a little to make things a bit easier on her. This should have set my mind racing straight away but I was sure that A GP wouldn’t mess around with another Doctors prescriptions bar making a few changes to the type of pill being taken (Slow Release Metformin for Diabetes as an example.)

Another chap was a few minutes late for his appointment but they put him in after Mum had come out.. so I had a few more minutes to wait, but being the dumb arse that I am I wasn’t putting two and two together and getting worried that I may need a back up plan for my appointment. The chap that went in before me must have been a real simple case as he was in and out in 5 or 6 minutes. No waiting around… his style is one out one in. Not like my old Doctor who would let one person go and then wait ten minutes for the next patient to be called in.

I was next to be called in, and seeing as I can never be trusted to see a doctor on my own when I forget so much Linda came in with me. He offered his hand and I shook it (good start methinks.) I sit down and we get the small talk out of the way and I hand him my repeat prescription to show him the cocktail I was on. This, folks, is where the alarm bells began ring loud and fucking proud. He picked up on my taking Risperidone and Lorazapam at the same time. For those who don’t remember (and why should you) the Risperidone is for the Psychosis, the voices and hallucinations and the Lorazapam is for the anxiety I get just getting out of bed in the morning. Lorazapam is one of the drugs I was weaned off of early last year but had a hard time staying off of them and was put back on them pretty soon after I started losing my shit on a regular basis during the summer of last year.

He looked at the repeat for a moment or two and then totally off the wall started to suggest that he take me off Risperidone. Just like that. I was dumbfounded. I had not been in his office for more than 5 minutes and this dude had decided that one of the most stabilising drugs I take was surplus to requirements. I flubbed, hummed and arhhhed for a second or two and said “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” For the life of me I couldn’t get the words out to explain why it wasn’t a good idea, just that “it wasn’t a good idea”

In the 7 years after being diagnosed with Bipolar my GP has NEVER suggested anything like that. MY old GP would only make changes when someone had fucked up somewhere along the line and it needed fixing so I didn’t start a meltdown. If he had pushed the situation I would have walked out there and then and looked for another GP. I made it quite clear that I wanted to be referred to the CHMT in the area and he stated that he had already set things in motion for that. MY heckles went down a couple of notches and we moved on to my Diabetes treatment.

The rest of the appointment was a bit of a blur, I do remember that I mention my last retinal screening threw up some irregularities on the back of my eyes, and he has referred me to the local retinal screening team to get my eyes retested and get new pictures done. I think more than anything else… (BP aside) my eyes are my main worry. If I lose my eyes I am screwed. I would make a terrible blind person. I can’t touch type with out looking at the keyboard… which kinda defeats the object of touch typing I know but hey it works for me. After he had finished with me I just wanted out of his office. I left Linda in there to deal with him for herself.

Before I left his office he suggest a couple of changes to my medication… both changing types of release drugs for my diabetes and Seroquel. Both are now on a slow release prescription and I have no problems with those changes as I know the drugs are going to do the same job just over a sustained period of time and for a change I may not get the hit of being wiped out by a 200mg hit of Seroquel in the evening and I may not feel so tired in the morning.

I’ll give him his due, he seems to know about his medication. Talking to my Brother and Sister In Law this afternoon, it turns out that this fella is anti medication. Well he is shit out of luck with us three and we are on enough pills to start our own Pharmacy. I know any small changes made to my regimen can send me off the deep end and I think that’s what worried me the most about this guy just changing my script without any of the facts. I am not currently under the CMHT and would have no where to turn if things went tits up in the interim. I am not willing to put myself or my family in that kind of position. I guess I should have been more on the ball in the appointment but you drugs and all that dull the brains kids… This is your brain…. This is your brain on drugs SMOOSH.

On the whole I have been holding my shit together mostly, I do feel a little abandoned as I have no where to turn, this has caused my mood to dip noticeably over the past week or so. I am putting it down to the fact everything is up in the air and the new year blues. It’s nothing that others aren’t feeling this time of year. I was hoping that my head would allow me to get out and do more things independently once the big move had been made, but so far I am still hiding away and still have trouble with Supermarkets. I avoid going into them if at all possible and would rather stay home and wait for a phone call saying Mum and Linda need help with the bags from the Taxi. I know I need to make changes but it all seems so hard at the moment. I just can’t do the normal things yet and that is really bugging me. I need to start to find excuses to go out and follow through on them. Going to the Library seems like a good place to start. Will look into this next week. One of my non resolutions is to read more this year. I need to expand my mind more than just surfing the internet and playing on Facebook and Twitter (NOT that I plan on giving them up for one second… but there has to be more to it than just that.)

Oh well this is almost 1500 words.. and I have waffled on long enough, so if you’re not sick of hearing it yet, Happy New Year and I hope it’s all good for you or at least less bolloxy than last year.

Squeak at ya’ll later.

Until Next Time…