I am going to rant. I really don’t rant very often since it really does not accomplish anything. I think ranting comes from a complete and unadulterated sense of frustration that almost goes into insanity.
For over ten years I have suffered from chronic panic disorder, anxiety that has left me with agoraphobia, shame and embarrassment. I doctor at the VA. Over this last ten years I also had a PE and multiple other dis-eases. In order to get treated I had to return multiple times to get a correct diagnosis because as soon as I walk through the door it’s like I have a neon sign on my forehead that says “nut case”.
This last bout beginning around May 20th left me unable to eat solid foods for over 8 weeks due to a gastrointestinal infection, which I might add is still a problem. I am nauseated to the verge of vomiting several times a day, can not do much more than sleep, can not eat more that a tablespoon of food at a time, and no more that at a hour at a time. As well as the fact my menu of foods that MIGHT not make me sick is few and far inbetween. While I suffer with this 24 hours a day my doctor is out partying for holiday, eating whatever they want, and as much of it as they want, sleeping through the night without having multiple explosive trips to the bathroom around the clock.
But…it’s ok for me to live like this day in and day out. I am not even an after thought once I leave that clinic. My first trip sent me home with the advice to drink fluids, the second trip a week later because I was not getting any better (already 4 weeks into it) they decide I have an infection (oops, guess we were wrong it was not anxiety after all this time either) for which I am given an antibiotic, which in turn a week later provides me with a secondary infection for which I am provided another antibiotic to raise hell with my already assaulted gastrointestinal system.
Has anyone called to see how I am making out? Nope. Does anyone care? Nope. Department of Health in NYS called because what I had was state reportable and wanted to make sure no one else in the house was sick. Unless I die from starving to death..they don’t give a shit either.
Because I do not leave the house unless I think I am dieing I asked for counselling from the VA, perhaps virtual to help me work on things so I could go out, after all…it has been over ten years with intermittent visits, when I could get down there….when I stopped going did anyone call? Nope. So on May 30 I get a call after a call to the suicide help line from them…oh yes, they said we are going to set you up with virtual counseling to help you get out of the house to get down here for appointments, it will take a few weeks to set up they said. I am willing to bet that a few weeks means..”well maybe we can get it done…maybe we can’t…we will catch up with you in a few months”.
So here is the fucking deal. Somehow I have to come to terms with the fact I will never get better. There is not a spiritual guru on the planet dead or alive that I have not studied, in depth, in an effort to turn this around for me because the VA wrote me off long ago…but I failed to get the memo.
As I stared out over the hay field this morning in front of my porch toward the lake I can no longer see because of the growth of the trees over all this time…..I got the memo. I just can not accept that this is how the rest of my life is going to go. Ten years-waisted. Its like they are letting me live just to pay taxes. I can’t even work to do that anymore.
I have turned out to be an embarrassment to my family. A burden to my daughter. Dead weight to my husband and pretty much useless to everyone else around me. How does one live with that? How do you make peace with going from a independent, self supporting person to someone who has to depend on other people for about everything, yet appear to everyone to be perfectly fine? How?? I probably would not be nearly as dehydrated as I am if I could just stop crying. So if anybody has any advice..I am open to it. Please share. TYIA.