Frustration and the Inability to Heal

I’m overly frustrated today, as I find myself exhausted and down. A funk has set in, the shadow of a cloud is once again hanging over my head. Maybe it’s a reaction to lack of sleep for the next two nights, as restless legs have been keeping me up until 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning before I finally fall asleep. My body aches, but at least I’m not sick, meaning my gut seems fine.

Mrs. Kyd has been traveling, and during our nightly call I told her I could feel my depression coming on and that I was feeling down for no specific reason. Is it this unbearable lengthy winter we’re experiencing, or the loneliness I go through when she’s traveling? I don’t think so. Seasonal Affective Disorder? Hmmm…it certainly plays a role, but don’t think it would cause such ups and downs.

Nothing specific I could think of, I’m just plain down. I wish I could pin this someone or something, because then it could be dealt with. Chronic depression comes on like a common cold. You don’t know how or where you caught it, it’s just there and needs to be dealt with somehow.

I absolutely hate the feeling of being depressed and wish to hell there was some sort of fix, cure, or help. “Pull yourself out of it.” I’m grateful the missus don’t ever say that, but now fully understands this is something out of my control.

Canada is sorely lacking in mental health care. Nearly to the point of non-existence. Even if I was willing to pay out the nose for help, there just aren’t enough actual doctors of psychiatry practicing medicine here. The waiting list is close to 18 months now. And please don’t put me in a group of other people to discuss my childhood trauma, that may work for some but not all.

That was one benefit in the U.S., although you had to pay for it, you still had easy access to a psychiatrist. I’m tempted to find a good doctor in the States and make the hour and a half drive (one way), but doing this every two weeks would be more demanding than I think I could manage on my own. Maybe just have to think of it like a fishing trip.

Sure there’s plenty of psychologist or psychotherapist around, but I need someone with the ability to prescribe an anti-depressant here in Canada. Or else I can fill a prescription in New York that I would simply take with me across the border. There must be some new medication that would help, if not I’ll know we at least tried. But it takes a good psychiatrist to figure out a treatment plan, and follow through with it.

I’m tempted to start making the trip. Besides a little bit of gas and time what can it hurt?

Will pharmacology offer any benefit? Maybe, but we’ll never know until we try. Are there alternatives? Sure, like ketamine treatments. But we know that was disastrous, for me at least. I can still go back on Abilify, and become totally unemotional. No more real lows, but no highs either. Just plain friggin’ numb to the world.

Maybe a simple frontal lobotomy would work just as well, save the trip and the money.

The best way I’ve found to get through these darker periods is to hope for lighter and brighter days to arrive. There will be days when I feel much better than this emotionally, they just are getting to be fewer and farther between.

I’m not one to sit and wait patiently though. I am looking into a treatment called Repetitive Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation or rTMS. The therapy is now being offered where I normally get nerve blocks, spinal epidurals and the like, so I do trust them to have my best health in mind.

Instead of me writing troves of misinformation I thought the link below from the Mayo Clinic would give you a better idea of the treatment.

So watch this space as I go forward with trying rTMS at least. Anything to help…absolutely anything.

https://www.mayoclinic.org/tests-procedures/transcranial-magnetic-stimulation/about/pac-20384625

The Gander Attack: A Tale of Trauma (Part 1)

(Author’s note:  My apologies for doing this in 2 parts, but there was a bit of background that I thought was relevant. Although this isn’t directly related to my personal situation in dealing with PTSD, depression, and the like, it’s something very similar. Okay, to be truthful, just another brain fart from yours truly.)

This is a tale of a traumatic event, and the resulting consequences suffered by my best friend. It starts from when the two of us bonded, the traumatic event itself, and how it affected both our lives. Since we are inter-connected, we share the same goal of trying to make things better.

My best friend, Blu, was diagnosed with epilepsy when he was a 1 year old puppy.  Still in the “cute” stage of puppyhood, but nearly full grown. In my humble layman’s thinking, I now feel the diagnosis of epilepsy to be inaccurate. You will have to bear with me as I let the whole story unfold.

Continue reading “The Gander Attack: A Tale of Trauma (Part 1)”

An Infinite Sadness

So after much deliberation, internal debate I have given up on the possibility of ever feeling “better”. An objective reasoning based on a simple method of analysis and data. I wake up sick and in pain, if I’ve even gone to sleep. At times “waking up” simply means getting up off the couch.

When I do sleep it’s from the dose of trazodone, then the dogs wake me up in a stupor.

Yesterday I decided to abandon all hope of feeling half decent and decided I just need to learn how to get by everyday feeling like crap. There is data that supports this, as my TimeTree calendar has a note on every day I’ve been sick since last September.

I was hoping, praying, this year would be different, but I started with a fresh count and after 2 months I’ve been bedridden for 20 days. 20 days out of 60, or for you statisticians a whopping 33%. Not that that has anything to do with statistics.

For 20 days I was totally non-functioning. I would give up on sleep, and if I slept a few hours would wake up from the nausea. All I could do was sip ginger ale, eat a saltine or a Ritz cracker, and go lay down. First the couch, then the bed. Up and down as there is nothing I can do to get comfortable. My own body the villain.

It’s hard to describe the feeling really, the worst seasickness? Or a case of the flu? All wrapped up together. If I’m lucky on day four or five I can eat plain pasta in the form of egg noodles, maybe a piece of toast.

Then I’ve got a week or ten days where I have to grab life and take advantage of the time. Live as much as I can while waiting for it to happen again. I live in fear of the next time, but it keeps on happening.

It’s caused such a feeling of melancholy, way beyond the depression I deal with.

It’s the knowledge that this is what I have to deal with from here on out, that is the way my life will be.

Remorse.

Dejection.

Like life is being slowly taken from me.

I’ve spent the last 10 years dealing with pain, so now this is one more thing to cope with. That’s the best way to put it, just cope.

Sorry if I’m whining, just feeling it today..