Wednesday, 17th May, 2017
It may sound from some of my recent entries that I’m getting better with a bit more energy and I have to admit I was beginning to think that myself a couple of weeks ago. Certainly my calendar was starting to look a little healthier that it did in February. It was the end of January that things went pear-shaped so that month was still fairly sociable: (crosses usually mean whatever it is has had to be cancelled).
Then it all went tits up.
But by April there’s a noticeable improvement and things were starting to pick up again.
However I was reminded recently that some things are still a problem - travelling for instance - due in part to these distressing attacks I was getting. The thought of having one of them when I’m miles from home is quite frightening because I hadn’t found anything which controls them apart from getting home and complete rest. Well that’s not strictly true - Diazepam helps tremendously but the doctor won’t prescribe it for me (the last one I asked anyway) so I’m using out of date ones which I was given 2 years ago when first ill and as there’s not many of them left I have to use them sparingly.
I was supremely disappointed when I realised the time was drawing near for my lovely friend from the States, Beth, to visit the UK with her friend, Kim. Some of you will know her as Edna Million on here. I knew a while back that she was planning a trip and had every intention of arranging to go down to the south of England and meet them. I’ve met them once before in 2010 on their first trip over here but it was such a long way that we could only manage an evening together. However that was fine and I was delighted that they really took to the country and wanted to come back which they did eventually with Beth’s husband. I couldn’t get away to meet them that time so was determined to make it this time but that was before I had the relapse.
I kept putting off contacting her hoping I’d be well enough to go but finally I had to admit defeat and say no which really upset me. And it upsets me even more because if I had the right medication I could have probably managed it. It literally is the difference between having a life and having to hide away in misery. And yesterday just confirmed that for me.
The weekend before last I got a thing. I’ve no idea what this thing was - I just knew I lost my appetite, had a permanent headache and kept sleeping for Scotland. No sniffly nose, no coughing, no infection, no nothing - just something very wrong. That took a few days to go away then I realised I was left with this hellish anxiety state - all the symptoms of a severe panic attack - pounding heart, feeling sick, shaky legs, dizzy and awful surges of adrenaline coursing through my body - made worse if I was going into a situation where I couldn’t escape or had to sit calmly - the counselling for instance. You don’t really want your counsellor sitting looking like she’s about to pass out any second!
And yes if you remember correctly I had mentioned about having these attacks anyway but I was sometimes able to push through them although it was distinctly frightening and extremely uncomfortable. Well after the thing, it somehow upped the ante with the attacks - I literally could hardly get out of the house and unfortunately that week happened to have an appointment I had to get to every single day. I usually try to avoid that because of the pacing I have to do but it’s not always possible. On the Wednesday I had an appointment with the doctor I’m registered with, Dr. Okpo (not the one I usually see), as she was very ‘pro drugs’ last time I spoke to her and wanted me to stay on all the drugs I was prescribed and not try to come off them. I therefore thought I might have more of a chance of her agreeing to give me more Diazepam and had decided to begin by innocently asking her if it was okay to take drugs which were several months out of date because I had realised the Diazepam I was taking had an expiry date of February 2017 (which was true). I thought she was bound to answer no to that and also realise that if I was still taking the ones I’d been prescribed TWO years ago then there’s no way I’m addicted to them and she might end up writing a prescription for more without me actually having to ask for them.
However I couldn’t get through the surgery door. The anxiety was just through the roof that day and, not wanting to waste any of the tablets, I was trying to deal with it myself but patently not succeeding. Finally, in desperation, I took 4 mgs (a low dose) but that was only half an hour before the appointment. I drove up to the surgery feeling worse and worse. Parked the car and stood outside trying to cool myself down as much as possible, pacing up and down the car park, willing the medication to work and desperately trying not to think what this meant for the future if I couldn’t even get to a doctor’s appointment for Pete’s sake. And failed on all counts.
That was a really miserable day. I ended up writing a letter to Dr. Okpo explaining why I didn’t appear and how I really wasn’t coping with the anxiety at all and she tried to phone me this morning but, not recognising the number, I didn’t answer! However, having listened to her voicemail and realising who it was, I tried to phone back but it was one of those numbers you can’t call back which was handy (not) and she didn’t leave me another one so presumably I just have to call the surgery and then play phone tag which I hate. Her message just said to give her a ring or make another appointment and she was happy to discuss things with me so I’ve booked another appointment for next Wednesday but will try to get hold of her before that because it would really help if I could speak to her on the phone instead.
So yesterday I had a hair appointment at 12.30 which was the first ‘proper’ appointment this week and I was literally terrified I wasn’t going to make it. I tried desperately not to think about it the night before but we all know how that goes and I ended up not getting to sleep until well after 4 a.m. and then going into an extremely disturbed, restless, half-awake, half-asleep state, finally getting up at 8.30 shattered. The drug I take daily, Subutex, is great for helping me to ‘come to’ eventually and by 10.30 I was starting to feel a little more human but the anxiety was definitely hyping up. So I made an Executive Decision and took 4 mgs of Diazepam about an hour and a half before the appointment.
Honest to God I just can’t tell you what a difference that made! Everything calmed down within the hour and I was able to get to the appointment without any problem. To be able to sit and chat with my hairdresser and fully participate in the conversation, laugh and joke about life in general and be relaxed and calm instead of fighting to breathe properly, smile though I’m dying inside and desperately try not to panic further, just made me so happy I was almost buzzing! I felt so good afterwards that I decided to treat myself to a pot of Earl Grey in Debenhams with my lunch - something I haven’t been able to do in a long, long time.
And after that I had a delightful browse for a couple of hours and further treated myself to a rather nice vase which caught my eye and fits perfectly in a corner of my kitchen worktop.
By the time I got back to the car, it was 4 o’clock and I was pretty tired. But not exhausted. There’s a difference. The Writing Group meeting was that night but I had completely dismissed it because I was so focussed on just being able to get to the hair appointment, and because I’d been ill, I also hadn’t managed to write anything for the topic which was very loose this month - anything with the word ‘May’ in it - about May, taking place in May, someone called May - literally anything with any connection to May. (And we only had one story about Theresa May out of the 12 of us!) For some reason I just can’t ‘allow’ myself to go if I haven’t written anything - there’s some crazy moral compass in me that doesn’t think I have a right to be there if I haven’t made the effort to produce something. Yet it doesn’t bother me in the slightest if anyone else turns up without anything to read out. Crazy.
Got home at 4.30 and by 6 p.m. I’d eaten a couple of boiled eggs and had them with some beans, resurrected a story I’d written before, stuck an addition of a baby being born in May into it, shortened it a bit, printed it off and was on the road to the Group, an hour’s drive away. By then my sleepless night was really making itself felt and the familiar symptoms were starting up again but I’d taken an extra Subutex and once that kicked in I was absolutely fine. An hour later the beautiful hotel we hold our meetings in hove into view -
and it was such a lovely night I took a closer photo once I parked the car.
It’s just as beautiful inside as out and because one of our number is good friends with the owner, they let us have the room for free which makes a big difference as we have no funds coming in apart from our own. We always buy a hot chocolate or tea/coffee at the end of the evening to try and repay them a little for that.
And once more, I was just delighted to be able to participate in that lovely group and hear all the varying efforts being read out. I’ve been a member of several writing groups over the years but this one has the loveliest people by far and is also the best group in terms of providing constructive criticism. And - bonus - they thought my story would be perfect for the People’s Friend so I’ve promised to send it off and see how I get on - I’ll keep you updated.
I got home around 11 completely knackered - but in a good way. It may seem a very uneventful day to a lot of you but to me it was absolute gold. And more than that, it’s taken away the very real fear I had about getting to counselling tomorrow. Now that I know I have something I can take which controls these awful symptoms, the fear is greatly reduced and it all becomes manageable - although with this particular client’s track record, there’s every likelihood she’ll cancel tomorrow anyway. I obviously had to cancel the appointment last week and the Agency were mortified because apparently they had been very firm with her about cancelling again - and now here they were having to phone her and tell her the counsellor had cancelled when there was every chance she might have actually made it in!! Them’s the breaks unfortunately.
So wish me luck with the doctor - she may be the deciding factor between living and existing right now.
Then it all went tits up.
But by April there’s a noticeable improvement and things were starting to pick up again.
However I was reminded recently that some things are still a problem - travelling for instance - due in part to these distressing attacks I was getting. The thought of having one of them when I’m miles from home is quite frightening because I hadn’t found anything which controls them apart from getting home and complete rest. Well that’s not strictly true - Diazepam helps tremendously but the doctor won’t prescribe it for me (the last one I asked anyway) so I’m using out of date ones which I was given 2 years ago when first ill and as there’s not many of them left I have to use them sparingly.
I was supremely disappointed when I realised the time was drawing near for my lovely friend from the States, Beth, to visit the UK with her friend, Kim. Some of you will know her as Edna Million on here. I knew a while back that she was planning a trip and had every intention of arranging to go down to the south of England and meet them. I’ve met them once before in 2010 on their first trip over here but it was such a long way that we could only manage an evening together. However that was fine and I was delighted that they really took to the country and wanted to come back which they did eventually with Beth’s husband. I couldn’t get away to meet them that time so was determined to make it this time but that was before I had the relapse.
I kept putting off contacting her hoping I’d be well enough to go but finally I had to admit defeat and say no which really upset me. And it upsets me even more because if I had the right medication I could have probably managed it. It literally is the difference between having a life and having to hide away in misery. And yesterday just confirmed that for me.
The weekend before last I got a thing. I’ve no idea what this thing was - I just knew I lost my appetite, had a permanent headache and kept sleeping for Scotland. No sniffly nose, no coughing, no infection, no nothing - just something very wrong. That took a few days to go away then I realised I was left with this hellish anxiety state - all the symptoms of a severe panic attack - pounding heart, feeling sick, shaky legs, dizzy and awful surges of adrenaline coursing through my body - made worse if I was going into a situation where I couldn’t escape or had to sit calmly - the counselling for instance. You don’t really want your counsellor sitting looking like she’s about to pass out any second!
And yes if you remember correctly I had mentioned about having these attacks anyway but I was sometimes able to push through them although it was distinctly frightening and extremely uncomfortable. Well after the thing, it somehow upped the ante with the attacks - I literally could hardly get out of the house and unfortunately that week happened to have an appointment I had to get to every single day. I usually try to avoid that because of the pacing I have to do but it’s not always possible. On the Wednesday I had an appointment with the doctor I’m registered with, Dr. Okpo (not the one I usually see), as she was very ‘pro drugs’ last time I spoke to her and wanted me to stay on all the drugs I was prescribed and not try to come off them. I therefore thought I might have more of a chance of her agreeing to give me more Diazepam and had decided to begin by innocently asking her if it was okay to take drugs which were several months out of date because I had realised the Diazepam I was taking had an expiry date of February 2017 (which was true). I thought she was bound to answer no to that and also realise that if I was still taking the ones I’d been prescribed TWO years ago then there’s no way I’m addicted to them and she might end up writing a prescription for more without me actually having to ask for them.
However I couldn’t get through the surgery door. The anxiety was just through the roof that day and, not wanting to waste any of the tablets, I was trying to deal with it myself but patently not succeeding. Finally, in desperation, I took 4 mgs (a low dose) but that was only half an hour before the appointment. I drove up to the surgery feeling worse and worse. Parked the car and stood outside trying to cool myself down as much as possible, pacing up and down the car park, willing the medication to work and desperately trying not to think what this meant for the future if I couldn’t even get to a doctor’s appointment for Pete’s sake. And failed on all counts.
That was a really miserable day. I ended up writing a letter to Dr. Okpo explaining why I didn’t appear and how I really wasn’t coping with the anxiety at all and she tried to phone me this morning but, not recognising the number, I didn’t answer! However, having listened to her voicemail and realising who it was, I tried to phone back but it was one of those numbers you can’t call back which was handy (not) and she didn’t leave me another one so presumably I just have to call the surgery and then play phone tag which I hate. Her message just said to give her a ring or make another appointment and she was happy to discuss things with me so I’ve booked another appointment for next Wednesday but will try to get hold of her before that because it would really help if I could speak to her on the phone instead.
So yesterday I had a hair appointment at 12.30 which was the first ‘proper’ appointment this week and I was literally terrified I wasn’t going to make it. I tried desperately not to think about it the night before but we all know how that goes and I ended up not getting to sleep until well after 4 a.m. and then going into an extremely disturbed, restless, half-awake, half-asleep state, finally getting up at 8.30 shattered. The drug I take daily, Subutex, is great for helping me to ‘come to’ eventually and by 10.30 I was starting to feel a little more human but the anxiety was definitely hyping up. So I made an Executive Decision and took 4 mgs of Diazepam about an hour and a half before the appointment.
Honest to God I just can’t tell you what a difference that made! Everything calmed down within the hour and I was able to get to the appointment without any problem. To be able to sit and chat with my hairdresser and fully participate in the conversation, laugh and joke about life in general and be relaxed and calm instead of fighting to breathe properly, smile though I’m dying inside and desperately try not to panic further, just made me so happy I was almost buzzing! I felt so good afterwards that I decided to treat myself to a pot of Earl Grey in Debenhams with my lunch - something I haven’t been able to do in a long, long time.
And after that I had a delightful browse for a couple of hours and further treated myself to a rather nice vase which caught my eye and fits perfectly in a corner of my kitchen worktop.
By the time I got back to the car, it was 4 o’clock and I was pretty tired. But not exhausted. There’s a difference. The Writing Group meeting was that night but I had completely dismissed it because I was so focussed on just being able to get to the hair appointment, and because I’d been ill, I also hadn’t managed to write anything for the topic which was very loose this month - anything with the word ‘May’ in it - about May, taking place in May, someone called May - literally anything with any connection to May. (And we only had one story about Theresa May out of the 12 of us!) For some reason I just can’t ‘allow’ myself to go if I haven’t written anything - there’s some crazy moral compass in me that doesn’t think I have a right to be there if I haven’t made the effort to produce something. Yet it doesn’t bother me in the slightest if anyone else turns up without anything to read out. Crazy.
Got home at 4.30 and by 6 p.m. I’d eaten a couple of boiled eggs and had them with some beans, resurrected a story I’d written before, stuck an addition of a baby being born in May into it, shortened it a bit, printed it off and was on the road to the Group, an hour’s drive away. By then my sleepless night was really making itself felt and the familiar symptoms were starting up again but I’d taken an extra Subutex and once that kicked in I was absolutely fine. An hour later the beautiful hotel we hold our meetings in hove into view -
and it was such a lovely night I took a closer photo once I parked the car.
It’s just as beautiful inside as out and because one of our number is good friends with the owner, they let us have the room for free which makes a big difference as we have no funds coming in apart from our own. We always buy a hot chocolate or tea/coffee at the end of the evening to try and repay them a little for that.
And once more, I was just delighted to be able to participate in that lovely group and hear all the varying efforts being read out. I’ve been a member of several writing groups over the years but this one has the loveliest people by far and is also the best group in terms of providing constructive criticism. And - bonus - they thought my story would be perfect for the People’s Friend so I’ve promised to send it off and see how I get on - I’ll keep you updated.
I got home around 11 completely knackered - but in a good way. It may seem a very uneventful day to a lot of you but to me it was absolute gold. And more than that, it’s taken away the very real fear I had about getting to counselling tomorrow. Now that I know I have something I can take which controls these awful symptoms, the fear is greatly reduced and it all becomes manageable - although with this particular client’s track record, there’s every likelihood she’ll cancel tomorrow anyway. I obviously had to cancel the appointment last week and the Agency were mortified because apparently they had been very firm with her about cancelling again - and now here they were having to phone her and tell her the counsellor had cancelled when there was every chance she might have actually made it in!! Them’s the breaks unfortunately.
So wish me luck with the doctor - she may be the deciding factor between living and existing right now.
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