I wish I could say the reason I have been dormant on this blog is because I had a bundle of joy, traveled to great places, received a promotion, or moved to Bali. No such luck. I have; however, strengthen my spirituality, prayed so hard that I fell to my knees as my head dropped to the ground, cultivated an empathic heart, and have become one step closer to being a Neurologist, Endocrinologist, Psychiatrist., and an Infectious Disease Doctor. The past two years still has had lots of doctors and surgeries, but another facet entered my Cluster of Crap that made sharing scarier due to the undeserved stigma of mental illness. I fought the "brain worms" or the "demon fingers" (mental illness) all along with my new physical illnesses. And my hope is to share my story hoping to ease someone else's pain, even if it is for 5 mins. Honestly, I feel extremely vulnerable sharing all about my madness, so please if you are going to judge anyone who struggles to feel whole, click out of this post. So now I will continue my story with a different purpose. Two years ago I wanted emphasize to take charge of your own healthcare. Now I want to create a positive awareness of mental illness from my little suburb, from my little house, from my little bedroom sitting in my grandma's old olive green recliner.
Summer of 2014 my family and another family had traveled down to desolate part of FL and simply laid on the beach and relaxed. I felt so nice. We scheduled this trip only 6 weeks after having an easy hysterectomy. I had this procedure because my fallopian tubes continually filled with fluid (hydrosalpinx) and one had ruptured. But ovaries stayed in, so no worries about going into perimenopause/menopause.
Literally two days after getting home from FL, I fell into a horrendously horrible depression. I had dealt with anxiety, but not depression, and not at this level. After two weeks of feeling this way I went to a counselor, who put me directly into outpatient intensive therapy. After 5 weeks on an antidepressant and 5 day-a-week of "depression school" I was no better. Actually, I was worse. I could not interact with the kids, could not make dinner, could not even watch TV. To minimize the internal pain, I did start hurting myself, which is very common in anxiety and depression. Who knew? However, that did land me on the Behavioral Health Floor at Shawnee Mission Health Center.
EMBBARRESSING- Huh? Now I could write a collection of funny essays about the other patients; my roommate included. She brought every item she owned in 12 brown paper bags. Due to the suicide scare the floor was always heavy with, she couldn't keep all her items in the room. The first morning there, I woke up to her furiously yelling at a staff member because the staff member would not allow her to have her Brittany Spears perfume (I guess a patient could drink the perfume as an attempt to kill their selves?). She was troubled indeed, but she introduced me to the show Cops; I had never seen it. So every lunch we watched cops running around darkened neighborhoods to capture a criminals. But I never really knew what that criminal did; interestingly the show wasn't ever very clear about the crime. I haven't watched Cops since, I feel like I would be cheating on my roommate, and because I didn't like the show.
My favorite lady was a 65 year old alcoholic who had started some kind of alcohol rehab program 27 times, and she had broken her back 5 times due to drunken tumbles. Anyway, her lesbian partner had passed away 6 months ago, but she was now dating a 24 year old MAN. But the best part is that she was Bipolar-Manic Only. So she never ever stopped talking, hugging, cussing, flipping the staff off, or dancing in the cafeteria. Then it clicked why she failed so many alcohol programs...she needed the alcohol to be her depressant. I learned a lot about people in those 4 days; unfortunately, humans have pain and if they don't have a good support system or coping strategies, they need to numb the pain to live and carry out responsibilities. Alcohol, sex, and drugs provide that temporary numbness. The majority of addicts I spent my 4 days with were just trying to survive like me in my depression.
I did befriend a dear 67 year old Vietnam Vet who took me under his wing on the first day when I was so scared....I was so frightened, I was in a closet crying to Kyle to get me out, and when I came out of the closet snotty and tear soaked The Vet was there for me. The Vet had dealt with suicidal behavior for 32 years and was obviously suffering painfully with PTSD and he was just now getting treatment. He called his wife his angel and he had a little dachshund that he missed terribly. He went so long without treatment his depression was being treated best by Electroshock Therapy every other day at 5am. On those mornings he was a bit hazy, but he was always going to be a Marine and protect the weak, like me.
My favorite lady was a 65 year old alcoholic who had started some kind of alcohol rehab program 27 times, and she had broken her back 5 times due to drunken tumbles. Anyway, her lesbian partner had passed away 6 months ago, but she was now dating a 24 year old MAN. But the best part is that she was Bipolar-Manic Only. So she never ever stopped talking, hugging, cussing, flipping the staff off, or dancing in the cafeteria. Then it clicked why she failed so many alcohol programs...she needed the alcohol to be her depressant. I learned a lot about people in those 4 days; unfortunately, humans have pain and if they don't have a good support system or coping strategies, they need to numb the pain to live and carry out responsibilities. Alcohol, sex, and drugs provide that temporary numbness. The majority of addicts I spent my 4 days with were just trying to survive like me in my depression.
I did befriend a dear 67 year old Vietnam Vet who took me under his wing on the first day when I was so scared....I was so frightened, I was in a closet crying to Kyle to get me out, and when I came out of the closet snotty and tear soaked The Vet was there for me. The Vet had dealt with suicidal behavior for 32 years and was obviously suffering painfully with PTSD and he was just now getting treatment. He called his wife his angel and he had a little dachshund that he missed terribly. He went so long without treatment his depression was being treated best by Electroshock Therapy every other day at 5am. On those mornings he was a bit hazy, but he was always going to be a Marine and protect the weak, like me.
Now the hospital Psy. Docs could not understand why no antidepressants were working. We had gone through this whole routine during the intensive outpatient therapy group. All they did was give me a pill and see if it worked day in and day out. And never did work. The docs never took blood or did a physical examination. Then I had an April-sized miracle happen. A friend and neighbor saw an outstanding Psy. Doc regularly, and she happened to have privileges at Shawnee Mission Health Center. So my friend told her my story and that Psy. Doc took time out of her busy practice to come visit me. After hearing about my Hysterectomy, she immediately did blood work for my girlie hormones, and sure enough I had zero estrogen, progesterone, and testosterone. My ovaries had died because they were the kind that got their blood supply from the uterus, which was gone. She put me on Bio Identical Hormone Replacement and got me the hell out of there. Proving that a good doctor listens and assimilates what the patient says or at least does blood work and a body exam. Sure enough within 6 weeks I was joyfully making Halloween costumes for my kiddos I couldn't even interact with 2 months ago. I do often think of the Vet and if he has some peace yet.
