I have developed the most bizarre aversion. Laying down makes me panic and hyperventilate. Not in the whole "If I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep" kind of way. (Because, seriously, if getting in and out of bed is what does me in, giving up the ghost is probably a good idea anyways.)
Jesse says it's likely a trigger to the episode I had in the hospital, the one where I couldn't breathe and was inconsolably hysterical. It makes sense. I am trying to stack my pillows high, as laying down at an angle isn't quite so scary, and I am also trying meditation and breathing exercises. It still takes several minutes to drag my heart rate down into anything resembling a normal breath.
I had no idea that a person could be scared of breathing.
Jesse suggested I put in a call to Dr. Cannon about getting a stop-gap, as-needed anti-anxiety med. That's probably not a bad idea. I just hate calling doctors and asking for new medications. There's a part of me that is, was, and will forever be paranoid about being labeled a "drug seeker."
(Even though logically, no doctor could truly diagnose me as 'drug seeking' because I haven't SEEN a doctor in 20 years in order TO be diagnosed. Still, the worry is there.)
I am on a very low dose of Clonodine
(.1 milligrams), which is a beta blocker, I believe. (And different from its oft used cousin, Klonapin.) It lowers the heart rate and is calming. But I can only use that when I wake up and when I go to bed. I do not want to have to mess with an anxiety med that's a sedative
, either. I'd way prefer the beta blocker, but I'd also prefer one that didn't risk dropping my heart too low
. So we will see.
Argh, this is maintenance writing. I was up at 3:30 AM - and have been waking up at 3 AM for days now. At least I get to see the sunrise. I'm hoping to get back to work this week. They are holding my job for me, but I'm still nervous. It would be just my luck to get a job with health insurance just in the nick of time to keep my kidneys from exploding, and then lose the job that gave me the insurance to treat my explodey kidneys to START with.
Jesse had a hilarious misheard phrase yesterday. I can't remember what I was talking about, but he turned around, tilted his head and said "Existential exhaustion? Is that what you said?
That was not what I said, but it was incredibly apt. We both had a great laugh about it.
Made the mistake of taking a super hot, super long bath last night. Not only did it wind up giving me a headache, but it made the muscles I was trying to relax tighten up even more. Once I felt my heart rate pounding, forcing the breath out of my lungs in ragged gasps, I figured it was time to get out. Took another few minutes to literally crawl out of the tub and then I had to call to Jesse to dry me off.
You guys are giving me incredible support and information. And god, do I need it. In the hospital, it was easy enough to walk that fine line and feel better. Armies of doctors, nurses, professionals, etc, who were trained for this. OUT of the hospital? Much, much harder. It's playing this stupid game where the slightest move left or right plunges me into some kind of unpleasant consequence.
Take warm baths to soothe the swollen muscles of edema - but not TOO hot. Eat some sodium and protein to settle your meds - but not TOO much sodium and protein. You can totally have sugar, as you're not diabetic, but all of your favorite treats includes shittons of dairy. Get out of bed and walk around, do some physical things to help ease the edema, but for God's sake, do NOT expend so many spoons that you wind up nearly passing out or crashing entirely.
Jesse has taken the brunt of my immediate care. He has been the one researching, digging out the do's and don'ts, all of the meal preparation and cooking. I need to step up to the plate and begin being my own advocate. It's not fair to place all of this on Jesse's shoulders.
So with the resources you guys are giving me (and YES, Michael! When she's up for it, I would LOVE to email her about her experience!), it's giving me a jumping off point in learning how to care for myself.
Speaking of edema, I cannot believe how much weight and pressure I've put on. Damn near 30 FREAKING POUNDS in the last month. I'm on diuretics, drinking water, and they say it'll take a few weeks to go away. At one point, my face was so swollen I barely recognized myself. It felt as if someone had replaced my head with a soccer ball and glued googly-eyes onto it.
I look and feel extremely pregnant. When I go out, I get knowing smiles from other women. That is, I suppose, nice, but it's a good thing they can't read my mind, because it's going "HOW DO WOMEN DO THIS FOR 9 MONTHS?!
" Seriously, every movement is impeded and I marvel that the human race continues to breed at all. I'm pretty sure I'd just have belly dived down the stairs at this point.
Aaaaand thoughts like that are the reason I don't have children.
It's nearly 7:30 AM. Maybe I can go back to sleep now. I've got to get my schedule wrapped back around my work hours, lest I make for myself an even more miserable time later.This entry was originally posted at http://quirkytizzy.dreamwidth.org/1000899.html. Please comment there using OpenID.