Monday, October 10, 2011

Conspiring against me

The gods, or whatever it is that wants me dead, is once again conspiring against me, turning every day into a living nightmare. Right now I want to scream, cut, drink, down every single pill I have in my possession, throw myself off a building, ram my car into a pole at 90 mph, etc. If it involves death or serious injury, I want to do it. I was even making plans to do things as I drove home from my pdoc's office, until I had a couple of "oh shit" moments. Oh shit, my daughter's home from school until tomorrow on fall break. Oh shit, it's my father's birthday. Oh shit, the kiddie and I have a full schedule next weekend.

Part of what has me so incredibly upset right now is the pdoc's office. I scheduled the appointment I was supposed to have with him today about six or seven weeks ago. Typically I see him every month but because he was going to be out of town, I had to wait a little bit longer. No problem I thought at the time. I have enough medication to last a couple extra weeks because I had stopped taking them for awhile.

I show up today and they tell me my appointment was cancelled, looking at me like I should have known this. I told them I never cancelled any appointment and I needed to see my pdoc. I told her I had tried the TMS and they would have cancelled those appointments, but there was no reason for anyone to cancel this one because it was with my regular pdoc, and certainly not cancel it without ever even telling me. The receptionist says his schedule is full and I immediately went into a massive panic attack. I'm not mentally stable right now. The imipramine he put me on last time does nothing except annihilate my sex drive and make me numb. But under that numbness I can feel myself coming unglued.

The only option they would give me was for my pdoc to call in refills on my prescriptions so I'd have enough until the next available appointment, which isn't until November 7th. I was shaking so violently from panick at this point, my voice was even shaking as I talked. I ask what the fuck am I supposed to do if the meds I'm taking aren't working? They just look at me in silence. Then some nurse comes over and tells me she wants me to have a seat so they can talk to my pdoc. I just wanted to get out of there so I told them to just make the appointment for November. I'm screwed anyway. Just let me get the fuck out of there.

As for the TMS, no one from the manufacturer ever called me back. I went to the next appointment and told the nurse I think they have the thing lined up wrong, that it's causing way too much pain. The nurse calls the pdoc that's in charge and tells him what I said. She then comes back and basically says they have it set up right, just try it again. I tried it again, as she tried adjusting it a couple of times and it was still just as painful. I told her I was leaving. There was no way I was going to endure that five days a week for five weeks. She asked if I wanted her to talk to the pdoc again, though I could tell she thought I was the problem, not the machine. I broke into tears and said no, I'll just chalk it up to another failed experiment.

No one had better ever call me a quitter if I fucking kill myself. I've tried every conceivable option to gain control of this fucking depression and then some. I'm just so fucking sick of trying anymore when everything ends in failure.


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