Monday, February 16, 2015

Crazy anxiety.

I am going crazy.

I hate waiting for doctors to call me back. they already don't like me because I go in there telling them what I expect to find and what test I want (it makes friends fast). I am sitting going over the tests results myself and forming my own conclusions. I have read everything I could, compared MRI pictures, researched optimal hormone levels and symptoms. I am sure I am right. Just sure. But unless a doctor agrees with me, it won't matter. And I am scared that I put myself out there and I won't be right. I will have made an ass out of myself in front of a doctor who won't want to help me anymore.

But on the other hand, I have been right for the last 2 years and that is the only reason why we know that me and all the kids have EDS and fructose malabsorption. I knew. I know now. I know that we have, at the very least, intracranial hypertension. I gave all the head circumference info to Dr. Diana and she put them in her study and she said my son, and to a lesser degree my daughters, had sign of it and that to expect I would also.

Do you see the circles my mind is going in right now? I am literally driving myself mad with anxiety. At least I have energy to clean the house, nervous energy.

I just keep coming back to worrying. I can't stop looking up more things on the internet and it just makes me more sure. I have looked at hundreds of normal and partial or empty sella. I compare my current pics to my old pics. I can clearly see that my pituitary is squished. I know I am intelligent enough to learn how to read an MRI. I learned enough to be able to tell what a normal pituitary looks like, what spots are the wrong kind of spots, how to tell where the skull bone is, ans the difference between a herniated chiari and a non-herniated chiari is. I am confident that I know these things.

But what if I'm wrong? Then what is the answer? How will I keep my kids from becoming disabled? My son has already been through several things, several degenerative changes, at the exact same age that they happened to me. He could end up disabled before he has a chance to do something with his life. He will end up like me, living off of the charity of the government, poor and living paycheck to paycheck. Barely affording to live, not enough money to enjoy living. A hell of pain, torment, headaches, nausea, fatigue, and isolation. And then my daughters. It will go the same for them. I feel like I am racing the clock trying to save their lives. That doesn't help with the stress.

I am fighting for our lives, against the clock. I am fighting against doctors who just want to shove any old med down our throats so we'll quit complaining. The ones we kept were the ones who had enough compassion to actually want to help us. Some doctors hear that I have been diagnosed with mental health issues or a drug addiction and just stop right there. They just chalk me up to some crazy, attention seeking, drug seeking, drama queen. They don't want to believe that I feel as bad as I do. They don't understand the courage it takes me to fight against the anxiety and go let it all hang out in a desperate search for some relief. Some real relief. They think I want drugs. I don't need doctors for that. They are everywhere. That is not what I want. I want real physical energy. A real feeling, like I am a real human being. A human being that works out and feels their muscles get stronger instead of just hurting too bad. A human being who can play with her kids longer than 2 min without getting winded and dizzy. A genuinely happy human being who enjoys being alive just for the same of being alive. I don't want to be high, drunk, or stoned. I want to experience life, feel life, remember life, before it passes me by. Then all I will be left with is a life of nothing. Just sitting on the couch, watching TV, a drain on society. I want to volunteer, be helpful, take my kids on trips, and be all around human being. I am tired of the meds the doctors want to give me. Antidepressants that don't make me less depressed (the therapist says I am not depressed). Anti-anxiety meds that kill the anxiety, make me feel high, make me feel hungover for at least a day. A day I don't get anything done, a day spent dizzy and exhausted. Another day I can't do more than the bare minimum for my kids. A childhood wasted. A marriage wasted even. Another day I don't have the energy to connect with him. Another day I don't feel like going to his family's house or hanging out with his friends and their kids. Another day.

Around and around and around in circles. That is where my mind goes. 

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