sae
09-28-2015, 12:53 AM
Once again find myself in an familiar place... back at home nursing bruises and blisters from an extended hospital stay. I had gone in certain I was just having a particularly rotten panic attack and found myself staying with a large bilateral pulmonary embolism. At least that explained the random fainting spells. The hospital stay is almost always the easiest part. The hard part is going back home.
I went through the uncontrollable crying and self pity stages like a champ this time around. They always come when it seems my body is trying to betray me. Then things became truly difficult.
The worst part about slowly deteriorating is that it is terribly expensive. I, sadly, do not have health insurance. I go to a county clinic instead. I never see the same doctor twice, no one is on the same page, and my visits never really last longer than a few minutes. Since being released I have been tossed from specialist to specialist, each one charging hundreds of dollars to run a few blood tests, to start. The clinic doctor finally gave up, claiming I had too many health problems to go to a county clinic and I should just "move back in with the parents to save money and buy health insurance." I don't know if I will go back to that clinic.
This is where I start to wonder about the true nature of depression. The thought crossed my mind, after I hung up the phone with my mom discussing the prospect of moving back home as a full grown adult, that my existence was just far too costly.
It was ascertained in the hospital that I likely have some sort of genetic clotting disorder that affects my factor vIII, but I need more testing. I had dvt's in both legs. I need to see a cardiologist, a pulminologist, a hematologist and a surgeon if this abcess doesn't go away on its own. All this just to survive.
I don't feel sad when I think about the prospect of just stopping here. It isn't depression perhaps so much as a resignation that on this current track I will continue to fall apart. I wake (midday, because now I can only sleep sitting up, and after the sun has begun to rise) out of breath, exhausted, sore. I am resigned to short distances ever since my feet began to discolor and swell. I don't think this is living.
Maybe this is depression, but I don't feel sad, just really tired, and constantly anxious, as though I am going die at any moment, or I will have another heart attack, another PE
.. maybe this time it will be a stroke.
Perhaps I should just stop whining. My sister says I should just go back to work and I will feel better... between my health and my fear of leaving my house, I am certain working will do the trick.
I went through the uncontrollable crying and self pity stages like a champ this time around. They always come when it seems my body is trying to betray me. Then things became truly difficult.
The worst part about slowly deteriorating is that it is terribly expensive. I, sadly, do not have health insurance. I go to a county clinic instead. I never see the same doctor twice, no one is on the same page, and my visits never really last longer than a few minutes. Since being released I have been tossed from specialist to specialist, each one charging hundreds of dollars to run a few blood tests, to start. The clinic doctor finally gave up, claiming I had too many health problems to go to a county clinic and I should just "move back in with the parents to save money and buy health insurance." I don't know if I will go back to that clinic.
This is where I start to wonder about the true nature of depression. The thought crossed my mind, after I hung up the phone with my mom discussing the prospect of moving back home as a full grown adult, that my existence was just far too costly.
It was ascertained in the hospital that I likely have some sort of genetic clotting disorder that affects my factor vIII, but I need more testing. I had dvt's in both legs. I need to see a cardiologist, a pulminologist, a hematologist and a surgeon if this abcess doesn't go away on its own. All this just to survive.
I don't feel sad when I think about the prospect of just stopping here. It isn't depression perhaps so much as a resignation that on this current track I will continue to fall apart. I wake (midday, because now I can only sleep sitting up, and after the sun has begun to rise) out of breath, exhausted, sore. I am resigned to short distances ever since my feet began to discolor and swell. I don't think this is living.
Maybe this is depression, but I don't feel sad, just really tired, and constantly anxious, as though I am going die at any moment, or I will have another heart attack, another PE
.. maybe this time it will be a stroke.
Perhaps I should just stop whining. My sister says I should just go back to work and I will feel better... between my health and my fear of leaving my house, I am certain working will do the trick.