The Physical Ailments Archive

blog borderline personality disorder

Fishy Kisses!

 

 

Wait.

Hold up.

You were expecting something more,
I don’t know,
presentable?

Frame worthy?

Mature?

Worthy of the title sexy?

Fine.

Whatever.

I guess I have that too.

 


blog borderline personality disorder

Better?
I really am enjoy 20/15 vision. Though now I can see well enough to understand my mother’s critique of my cleaning. So there is that. One of these days I might even have the energy to care enough to do something about it. That day is not today. Tomorrow doesn’t look good either.

Can I just say, I did a lot more coding on this damn post than I normally do and it was a rude awakening as to how long it’s been since I’ve really messed with html?

And then making the image with the 7 photos into 1 cohesive image? Don’t let me bitch about that one, though. It was a mathematical blast. I’m being serious there. <3<3<3<3<3 Karen + Math = 4ever <3<3<3<3<3

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Hold Up! We Have A Badass On Our Hands!

Posted February 10, 2015 By kmarrs

So my darling 3yo Sambam spends most of her afternoons surrounded by 6 older boys, not just her brothers. To say things get rough and tumble around here is like saying water is wet. To give all 6 boys credit though, they seem to recognize my little girl as a delicate sacred flower to be preserved at all costs. It helps that they’ve all met her very protective daddy.  Plus they all openly adore her, even her brothers.

Yet this delicate flower put them all to shame when she managed to get 4 stitches in her lower lip Wednesday night, 1 inside and 3 outside, without shedding a tear.

See she was copying the older boy’s game, only without the gross motor skills and judgment they have, and ended up essentially back flipping the side of her head into the coffee table and literally bit through her lower lip in the process.  And this isn’t one of those ironic uses of the word literally where they actually mean figuratively.  Teeth met teeth and lip was between.  Or would have been if she hadn’t bit through.

Of course, after the initial “oh shit what just happened” wore off she screamed bloody (again literally… my GOD the blood) murder from the moment I swooped her up til about half way to the ER.  Once there she turned on her charm and initiated playing wingman for her uncle David, who was set on trying to find a nurse for his own needs and personal care.  She basically beamed a holy grin and waved at every nurse and doctor that passed, and a fuss is made of her even when her grin isn’t bloody.

When the time came, they put numbing cream on her lip for a good 20 minutes while she and I discussed how sometimes her lovies get boo boos and Grandma stitches them up.  Well Sambam had a boo boo just like that and the doctor was going to stitch her up.  She nodded in understanding.  Then the doctor came back and had her lie down flat.  I told Sambam to just relax and close her eyes. I took one hand and David by my side, noting the hot female doctor’s wedding band, took her other hand, and Sambam received her stitches like a champ!

So she may be a flower, but if so she’s a daylily.  Which is oddly appropriate as a mixture of red and blonde.

bpd and parenting
bpd and parenting
bpd and parenting

The first two are before stitches, from the ER waiting room, where she was fascinated with the hole in her lip.

This kid. I tell you.

Bad. Ass.

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The Year of the Doctor

Posted January 23, 2015 By kmarrs

Taking care of health is important if you have Borderline Personality DisorderYar!  I promised thee a blog post!

Alright this is apparently the year where I celebrate having insurance again by being a responsible adult that takes care of her physical well-being.  Parts of this are easy, and other part not so much.  Also imbedded within these words will be an update as to my mental health and the meds I’m now taking.  So way to be relevant to the blog topic, self!  *pats self on back*

So, topics to cover:

  • Head
  • Shoulders
  • Knees
  • Toes
  • Eyes
  • Ears
  • Mouth
  • Nose
  • Lady Parts

Maybe not in the order, huh?

EYES: A major “yay!” and a slight “WTF MATE!” included!

So all 5 of my clan went to the eye doctor this week.  The husband, oldest and I have all worn classes since we were each respectively 7 or 8 years old.  So for us it was just a yearly check in.  Nothing of note for Pat or Thomas, other than Thomas has my eyes in more than just color.  (Did you know that it’s been proven that the more you read, the more near-sighted you become?  Explains why I’m damn near blind.)

I, of course, need new glasses as well only… So apparently based off their previous records on me, my current prescription, and what the script in my current glasses read to be, the last place to examine eyes and get my lenses really messed up their readings *coughWALMARTcough*.  What’s the most fucked up about that is that the year I got those glasses was the only year I’ve ever had insurance through work and Wal-Mart was basically the only place that took that insurance and my mom still had to pay through the nose for me to get these glasses and apparently the royally messed up. That or my eyes magically got better by a lot and then tragically got a little worse than they had been the year or two prior.  So, really?  Every other year the government has paid for my glasses, which I no longer feel guilty about because I’ve gotten a better doctor and better glasses that I need to see because I’m going blind.  Anyway I’m back to one of my 2 old eye doctors (I flipped between them based on location and who could get me in without a 15 month wait) and they have always run consistent to one another.  So I know where I’m staying here on out.  Also?  She got me to 20/15 which she apparently can never accomplish in people with eye-sight as bad as mine and I can confirm has not happened in a really, really long time.  I’m so excited for those glasses to come in!  I’ll read all the things!  ALL OF THEM! *cough*

Lucas, who turns 7 today *sob* will be getting his first pair of glasses, and while we aren’t surprised he needs them, we are surprised just how bad his eyes are at his age.  When Thomas first got glasses he could take them off to play.  Not Luke.  I think this kid is about to see a whole new world!  Also; he won’t sit with his nose glued to the TV while watching anymore.

Sammy, who also sits nose to TV, has been confirmed to do so because she is 3.  The good doc did detect she isn’t exactly 20/20, but it’s a small degree of vision imperfection and usually not worth trying to convince a 3yo to take care of glasses over, unless there are other signs of trouble. (There aren’t.)  So while Sammy will indeed be wearing glasses in the future, she isn’t there yet.  Which is good.  It’s inevitable with the poor girl’s genetics, but I really am not up to that battle.

Lady Parts:

I’ll spare you details.  However, let me say that while I am two years out of sync on what should be a yearly appointment due to first no insurance, and then a chaotic uprising, I’m back on track here and scheduled for my yearly.  Also: When was your last well check here?  Guys, I know most/all of us are falling apart in so many ways, but this appointment is so important and can not be skipped.  These doctors look for some scary stuff.  Especially scary if left untreated.  So please, if you are behind, pick up the phone and schedule now.  No insurance?  Planned Parenthood takes care of so much of this as well, for I believe decent prices.  It varies by location; ask.

HEAD:

I’m doing mostly ok in the mental health department, but this is with the help of a dozen pills a day.  Since getting back in, I have been seeing my meds doctor regularly. Then, despite a few month blip where I had to cancel due to a funeral, and then not making it back in for a bit, I am back to seeing my therapist every couple of weeks.  I actually had a meds appointment today, which is why I owed you this blog post and didn’t write it on the spot, and we had a discussion on the current main symptom, which I’ll get to in a second.  First we’ll discuss the pill regiment up until today’s addition.

First, I’m on Cymbalta 60mg every morning.  It’s my go-to anti-depressant and I actually look forward to taking it when I start to fall apart.  Oh, it kills my sex drive and makes me fat, but it is also the best I’ve found at making me feel stable, without the robotic after taste.

I take 300mg of Trileptal every AM and 600 in the PM.  It is the mood stabilizer that has always been good to me.  Again, no robotic after taste.  As an added bonus, it doesn’t want to kill me like Lamictal does. (Can you imagine death by rash?)

New for me is my twice a day 1mg of Ativan.  This is a fairly low dose (higher than the 1mg part implies) that doesn’t take away all my stress and anxiety, but it takes away the physical tics it brings.  A higher dose that kills the anxiety does things to me (man).  But as my anxiety tends to make my skin crawl and other just not fun things, I’m on a high enough of a dose to prevent that crap.  As an added bonus: for the first time in about 7 years, not only do I have hair but it’s past my shoulders now!

So today I went in with the intent on talking about my rage.  Sure enough, when the other symptoms are under control, I become a raging beast.  I’m not psychical or violent, but I’m loud and can use hurtful words.  I think we all know first hand that words can hurt just as much, if not more, than violence and actions.  So after brief discussion, per my request I start back on Geodon tomorrow.  Oh, antipsychotics aren’t a joy to be on, but I’ve been on/off them enough to know the pros and cons of either side of that decision and I’m looking forward to feeling more like Dr Jekyll, and less like Mr Hyde again.  (More Banner, less HULK?)  Even if it does mean I’m going to eat every carb in sight and pack on another 20 pounds.

KNEES?:

Speaking of packing on another 20 pounds, I’m currently the heaviest I’ve ever been and I don’t like it!  It’s like over the past 3 months I have just packed it on!  Well, with the Holidays behind me, I’m fixing that, dammit.  I wouldn’t say I’ve given up pop, but I’ve cut way down and am working on drinking a lot more water.  I’m eating less pasta and more rice.  I’m doing my best to be more physically active, but I’m writing this a week after buying my first cane (knees!), so there is that.  Nevertheless I don’t need the cane everyday, so on my good days I’m going to go out and walk/run the neighborhood like I swore to when we first moved in (and then life fell to shit around me).  I won’t ever be society’s idea of skinny, but that’s ok.  I just want to be happy with my body within my own ideals of attractive, and I’m not.  I also want to fit all my clothes again, and I don’t.

MOUTH:

Ugh.  I can’t even… It took us something like 8 years to find a dentist that both took our insurance and was someone we were willing to go back to.  I tell you, there are a lot of bad dentists in the world.  It’s even worse than regular General Practitioners.  We finally fund one just to have him close down his business in the past year (had to go back home due his mom’s failing health).  I don’t even care that he was in the opposite side of town.  I would have made the drive.  Now I’m back to square one and we are all well over-due for a visit.  I seriously… Why is this so hard?  I mean, I can tell horror stories.  I really liked the dentist that we finally found too.

NOSE:

Speaking of general practitioners… I need one of these even more than I need a dentist but I’m seriously dragging heels about this.  Frankly, most just don’t know how to help me or are scared of me.  How my Borderline Personality Disorder scares a way a doctor that won’t even be treating it as I have a great mental health team, is beyond me.  I literally could scream.  Dear Doctor, if you want to be frightened away by a condition, at least let it be the fact you aren’t competent in treating fibromyalgia.  Oh, about that.  Mind you, I’ve only had one doctor ever even realize I suffer from fibro, so that is annoying in itself.  But now that it’s finally on record, I’m opening with that.  However, the reason I’m not going back to that doctor, besides the fact he’s terrified of my mental health that he isn’t treating, is that he was constantly wanting to treat the fibro with meds I was already on for the mental health or meds I had been on for it.  First off, and yes this does give you some leeway to be scared of the BPD monster, you can’t just throw a mental health pill at a mental health patient, without considering the repercussions.  Also, if I was on a pill for years for my mental health and it never ever helped my fibro, why would it suddenly magically make my fibro better now?  Ok, I’ll humor you.  Oh look, I’m suddenly suicidal because misuse of antidepressants can do that, ironically.  Alright, fine.  Maybe his fear of my mental health WAS valid.  But only because he was a moron.  And he isn’t even the doctor that I walked out on, or the one who put me on blood pressure meds to treat the wrong kind of headache, and then claimed he was 150% sure that the meds weren’t what caused me to gain 20 pounds suddenly over a 2 month span despite me doing everything else right. (True fact: In a study of whether or not blood pressure meds cause weight gain, what he put me on was called out by name to cause rapid and massive weight gain.  Yet he was 150% positive that those meds don’t cause weight gain and in fact tried to pin it on the fact I just had a baby.  This was about 6 months AFTER giving birth.)  So needless to say I’m a little skeptical about the medical profession and not looking forward to having to find yet another new doctor.  However, the husband is insisting and it would be nice to have someone to see should I have a general illness, and should he actually know how to treat my fibro, and not be scared by the BPD monster… well, I’m not holding my breath.

Head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes

Bleh

 

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A Klutz With Fibromyalgia

Posted March 28, 2014 By kmarrs

Broken wrists and FibromyalgiaER Doctor: So what did you do to your wrist?
Me:I tripped over a kid, not my own, and braced my fall with it.
Dr: Ow!  And you did this today (Late Thursday)?
Me: No… Sunday afternoon.
Dr: And you’re just coming in?
Me: Well, I’m a klutz with fibromyalgia.  If I came in every time something hurt, I’d never leave!
Dr: *chuckling* Well, it’s good you know this about yourself.  We have plenty of repeats who don’t.
Me: Exactly.  I figured I had just sprained or strained it as usual, stabilized it, and have taken Ibuprofen for pain and swelling.  But 4 days later it’s getting worse and not better so I figured now it’s time to make sure I’m not being stupid.
Dr: Makes sense.  Alright, let’s get some x-rays.

30 minutes, if that, passes

Dr: Alright you have a hairline fracture about here. *points to where thumb meets wrist* I’m going to wrap it for you and refer you to an ortho for follow-up to see if you need an actual cast.

And scene

Ah yes. Fibromyalgia: Where you can fracture a bone in your hand and just live with it for 4 days before getting it checked because you’ve had worse pain so how bad can this be.

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911 What’s Your Emergency

Posted January 21, 2014 By kmarrs

Borderline Personality DisorderI woke up a week ago to the worst headache I’ve ever had and a neck I could barely move.  Now, I’m use to headaches but not like this.

Never the less, I went on to my Math class that night thinking little of it.  It wasn’t until I got home after math, and was freezing no matter what I did, that I decided to take my temperature.

Pushing 102 degrees.

Yikes.

The following morning when I couldn’t get my fever below 101, I went on to the hospital with Pat as my escort.

Sure enough they thought what I thought and I got a lovely spinal tap.  And by lovely what I mean is the doctor did a beautiful job and I was only in extreme pain from it like I was supposed to be and not because he messed up.  Because, you know, drawing spinal fluid out hurts like hell.  For the record.  No need to go and get one yourself  as proof.  Unless that’s how you get your kicks.

The good news is it wasn’t meningitis.

Before, during, and after the tap I was given a lovely course of antibiotics via an IV and I woke the next morning feeling lovely except for the back pain from the tap.

But I was given perc for that.

The moral of the story is: When you go to an ER complaining of an extreme headache, stuff neck, light sensitivity and a fever over 100, they are going to take you very seriously.  So seriously, in fact, that you are most likely getting a needle through the spin.  And if you do that without complaint beyond, “I’m going to puke, I’m going to puke, I’m going to puke,” they know you really are sick.

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BPD Borderline Personality Disorder and LossThis year…  To say I have lost is such an understatement that it’s almost laughable.  Or would be if I wasn’t spending my free time curled up into a tiny, tiny ball crying and raging.  I assure you I’m not laughing through my tears.

Some of this loss has been by choice  but too much of it has been by force which is, I suppose, how loss typically happens.

It might as well have been by gun point that my aunt was taken from us a couple of weeks ago.  We learned of the cancer prognosis about a month before she was taken.  No one really saw the prognosis coming and we were given just enough time between prognosis and passing to realize there was no preventing it.  Cancer, is an asshole.  But, I suppose we know that.  Knew that.

The “loss” of my best friend of 12 years in the opening months of this year was of my free will.  It was a conscious decision that I made on the spot but that I’d been building up to over the months prior.  And while her character was never much of a secret, I was made privy to its true nature over the last couple months.

You (she) will never, ever read this but I would like to say now what I couldn’t say as your relationship with my estranged husband came to an end:  I’m so very truly sorry that the timing of my mental break down was so inconvenient to you and your desire to throw your beliefs aside and get laid.  Because really, my mental break down really has been inconvenient to us all.  I suppose you’ll have to go and find another fuck buddy.  If you need help finding one, may I suggest the depths of hell where your selfish, inconsiderate, whoring soul belongs.  You’ll find your people there.  And they won’t care how truly hateful and negative your depraved existence is, inside and out.

Bitch.

Maybe we won’t add that friendship to the loss category after all.  We shall call it my escape.

The other friendship loss also wasn’t much surprise.  They say some people enter your life and are meant to stay there until the end.  Some come into your life and their role is brief.  Maybe it’s only meant to last a few weeks.  Maybe a few months.  A few years.  Or, in the scheme of life, even a decade or two might be considered brief.

N, as I shall call him out of a true respect for his desire to remain unknown to this world as a whole, I thought was meant to be a life long friend.  I still hurt over the loss of what I thought it would be.  But through my tears of the loss of a friend, I do see the role he played.  He was my secret keeper and companion in the days leading up to and following the end of my marriage.  And while he and I were only ever friends and never would have been more, I was able to examine who he was and my response to him and start to see glimpses of what it is I seek in a romantic companion.

The list is much longer than what I will say here, but for a starter, I will never, ever again find myself in a relationship with someone who doesn’t read.  My joy in sharing books with N and him sharing books with me… Him handing my books that weren’t about, “You’ve read such and such so you might enjoy this,” but was instead, “I really enjoyed this book and I’m excited to share it with someone who reads,” was, I think, one of my (many) favorite things about that friendship.

The idea of being able to add a romantic aspect to that, with someone else of course, is something I will no longer settle over.  I look forward to the day I find myself in bed with someone, sitting side-by-side reading our respective books.  Maybe we’ll even be reading the same thing so we can talk about it as we go, careful to avoid spoilers.  Both people in that bed understanding that the lights can’t be turned out until one more chapter has been read. And one more chapter is never just one.

N, I don’t really expect you’ll read these words but please know while our friendship exploded in flames and anger, I will forever thank you for the role you played in my life and the gift you gave me of sight.

I’ve already written on the end of my marriage.  The loss of tucking my children in each night and waking to their fighting each morning.  I do not wish to dwell on that here.  It’s been written about, but I can’t fail to mention it.

The loss of my fine motor skills, as I type on a computer keyboard plugged into my laptop because the keys are slightly bigger and have more space between them allowing for easier manipulation as I write, my fingers struggling to keep up with my head and heart as it is, has been the hardest to swallow.  Special pens bought for work in order to have a better, more secure, more comfortable grip.  Each of my coworkers knowing that while we are forever stealing one another’s pens, mine are off-limits.  It isn’t a matter of being my favorite, it’s a matter of me being a liability as I need to be sure and reassured I didn’t miscount the money my fingers struggle to manipulate.  I never count just once, I’ve learned to compensate, how to count it, how to manipulate it to be sure I balance each night. But my fingers, my hands, my fine motor skills are being taken from me as I fight tooth and nail to not lose it all.

As I drop my camera, not the point-and-shoot, but my darling Nikki due to a compromised grip as I simply lifted it to move it over 2 feet.  A special strap is already attached to help with grip, any photographer wanting that security no matter the state of their hands.  But who attaches a strap to move something 2 measly feet?  And Nikki fell, my portrait lens busted, and I still, months later, can’t bring myself, can’t find the will within, to learn if my beloved Nikki is still in working order.

As my fine motor skills trickle away, my sanity, stability, tumbles.

 

To Be Continued

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