Saturday, May 9, 2015

Patience, Madness, and Vera

Trigger/Content Warning (TW/CW): this blog post contains mentions of self-harm and suicide. Reader discretion is advised.

The sinus infection is over. Somehow, I managed to finish all of the antibiotics as directed. I hope tomorrow I feel totes better.

Meanwhile, I am still waiting for the ob/gyn doctor to call me back to schedule for surgery. If I am supposed to schedule an appointment with her just to schedule a surgery, then that memo was never relayed to me. And that pisses me off to no end.

The doctor wants to check my blood work for an elevated level of the marker Cancer Antigen 125 (CA-125). Well, shit; if the doctor wants to see whether or not this cyst is malignant, one would think the doctor would get me into the office or a laboratory to find out ASAP, right?

Needless to say, my PTSD has once again is at a fever pitch. I am half-tempted to take a pair of scissors and cut this cyst and ovary out myself.

For those who have known me for a bit, you know two things about me: I hate being sick, and I hate being patient.

Patience and I really don't get along. She's an evil bitch; I'm a spoiled brat. We fight all the damn time. Whenever I get sick, Patience has to stick her nose where it doesn't belong and make me wait until I am "completely healthy again." This can also explain the issues I have with emotional eating and emotional spending, because Patience. Such an evil bitch she is.

However, I did make an agreement with the evil bitch to stay low on activities until I finished the antibiotics. For the most part, I discovered that my depression was affected by the antibiotics, leading to a flare up of adjustment disorder, or a situational depressive episode. I had not much of a choice but to "heal."

That "healing," nonetheless, has made my brain go from "happy to be alive" mode to "somebody stop me from going back to the Lorain-Carnegie Bridge for another attempt to jump off" mode. Every fucking day I was either on the verge of tears or just bawling my eyes out. And yes, I know that suicide is not the answer; but when your brain is in such a delusion of both grandeur and paranoia, you can't even make a choice of what to wear or what to eat let alone what to do to stay safe and stable.

I have been begging the doctors to help me get some relief from the emotional turmoil; most importantly to make sure what happened in 2005 doesn't happen again. Easier said than done, it seems: "just take a Xanax pill when the anxiety becomes too much. Make a plan of who can be responsible to pay your bills on your behalf should you be hospitalized. Get a lot of rest, but try not to isolate too much; reach out to a couple of friends to get your mind off of the stress of waiting."

The doctors forgot to mention: "wash, lather, rinse, repeat." Because this is a type of daily medicine not dispensed in a pill form.

At night is when my depression drives my mental state to sheer madness. The psychic vampire in me longs and craves for a physical and emotional bonding with another adult human being during this time of the day. No sex, just to reach my intangible tentacles out to another soul and "feed" off of their loving kindness (or is it "love and kindness"?).

Whoa, whoa, whoooooooaaaaaa there, Vera. Just what the fuck is a "psychic vampire"? Are you sure the antibiotics didn't make you "mad"?

Heh, well. Just like how a vampire "feeds" off of mortals by siphoning blood, a psychic vampire does its "feeding" off of a person's energy. No fangs needed, just the ability to meditate and imagine several connectors, or tentacles, extending from your body and latching on to another individual, to be nourished by the nectar of their energy.

Okay, that's some creepy ass shit, Vera....

If this makes you feel better, there is a book that talks about psychic vampirism, called The Psychic Vampire Codex, by Michelle Belanger. Great read, even though it's not a Jewish book, heh.
And I just realized something: I read this book around the time I had the surgery to remove my left ovary and the teratoma. In 2005.

Oh well, if anything just typing out this post has made me feel better some, as it is supposed to do. Meanwhile, the Cleveland Cavaliers better not choke in this latest playoff series against the Chicago Bulls.

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