Head Bonking

We're going to ignore the elephant in the room for a lil' bit if you don't mind, OK?

The bearded eye-roller finally convinced me to get the uber cool washer and dryer he had his eye on. We had to compromise a bit though. I just can NOT justify spending 1,000 + EACH on a washer and dryer, so we both settled on the Whirlpool Duet Sport. They're a smaller, more plain version of the ones he wanted, but they still do the job.



They look big, but it's because we bought the stands that go underneath the units to raise the machines up and also serve as storage units.

As y'all know- I'm pretty fussy about my laundry being done JUST.SO. Even with all that fussiness, I had no idea that my laundry could turn out brighter and whiter simply due to the washing machine. I pulled my whites out of the dryer today and they were almost florescent! Without bleach, even.

On top of all of that, they conserve energy and water- so I feel like it was a good investment. Especially since we got the smaller white versions, that were MUCH less expensive.

I'll never get over my miserly ways.... much to the chagrin of BER.

My old washer and dryer worked fine, except for the fact that the spin cycle didn't really work very well. My clothes were still very wet when I put them into the dryer. Since they were still in working condition, I advertised them on Craigs List- free to the first person to answer the ad (and yes, I noted that the spin cycle wasn't that great). I spiffed them up to a nice shine and we put them in front of our garage for their new owner. I even put an almost full Costco sized Tide (with fabreeze!) laundry soap on top of the washer, since our new washer requires special soap.

The gal that picked them up left the sweetest note about how beautiful the washer and dryer were and how much she really needed a washer and dryer but couldn't afford it. It made us feel really good to help someone else out.

As for the elephant- I'm OK. I think y'all will start hearing from me more in the next couple of weeks. I've finally figured out that I've been going through the stages of grief- something I'm fully aware of due to my previous Hospice experience. I do NOT equate this in ANY way with losing a loved one, but the stages are similar.

Right now, I'm in the bitter stage, but acceptance is starting to peek through occasionally.

I certainly feel loved and cared about by my friends (both cyber and 3-d) and family, and that has meant so much to me. Your email, comments, and cards have been so supportive and loving. I'm very VERY blessed.

I can't start this without giving you thanks for all of your support and love. I feel every bit of it and thank you for it. Some of your letters (email) to me make me cry with gratitude for the friends I've built here. I KNOW that one day I'll be back to regular posting and reading and commenting, and I'm looking forward to that day. Y'all have been so wonderful to me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Even though I'm not answering, you can be assured that I'm thinking of you and sending back the love you're sending me.

I decided that it was time that I do what I SAID I would do- seek psychological intervention, so I called my insurance company nurse advocate on Tuesday and filled her in with the feelings I've been having. Since my neurologist has me on off label use of meds that are used for various mental conditions, my nurse advocate said that instead of a psychologist, I should see a psychiatrist- so they can follow up with the meds and adjust me as needed. Especially considering the fact that my neurologist feels that she's done all that she can.

The nurse advocate gave me a short list of 'approved' psychiatrists in my area, and I called the first one on the list because I liked his last name (way to pick a psychiatrist, eh?). The psychiatrist's assistant said that she was going to ask me a few questions, then present it to the doctor to see if he would like to take on my case.

Hmmmm..... I didn't know it worked that way.

The questions were things like:
Do you have a restraining order against you?
Have you ever been in jail or prison?
Are you seeking psychiatric help due to a court order?
Has anyone ever reported you to child protective services?
Do you abuse alcohol or drugs?
Have you ever been a patient in a mental hospital?
Etc. Etc. Etc.

In case you're wondering, my answer was no to all of those questions. I felt fairly certain that the psychiatrist would see by my answers that I wasn't going to be too much trouble and would get a call that he accepted me as a patient.

au contraire!

I got a call yesterday that the psychiatrist did not want me as a patient.

Wow... and WOW. Maybe I should have asked why, but I thought that might make me seem desperate- kind of like when a guy breaks up with you. Just accept it and move on.... ya know?

Believe it or not, I think it's funny. I mean, who gets turned down by a psychiatrist? And yes, there are more on the list to call.

I'll follow up on Monday because this needs to be addressed and FIXED.

Michael called me yesterday and we had an interesting conversation yesterday about what is at the bottom of this dark hole of depression. Anybody want to guess?

If you answered "Lori, it's your job!", you're right!

It wasn't what you think, though. My dad, the bearded eye-roller, Heidi, my mother-in-law, all y'all (hey, I found out that that's plural for y'all!), have told me that I put in too many hours and work too hard. Yep, ALL y'all are right! But that's still not the root of the issue I'm having now.

This may be hard to understand, but here goes.... If I didn't have a job- I wouldn't be so affected by what has happened to me. I'm OK with myself at home, social situations (for a certain period of time, anyway), shopping, normal stuff. However, without a job, I'd wither on the vine. It can't be just any job either. I need to have a job that requires skills and knowledge that most people cannot do. Kind of like why I chose Hospice as my volunteer activity of choice. Most people wouldn't be able to do it, but I can.

As an aside, you may have noticed that I haven't posted about Hospice in a while- I had to give it up months ago because I couldn't keep up with work AND Hospice. I plan to go back after I retire.

Michael is a lot like me in this way. Our sense of self esteem is wrapped up in our job. It always has been for me. Years ago, I had two distinct personalities (not MPD!), one for work and one at home. Nobody could make me feel bad EVER at work. I was on top of everything and thought I was the best thing since sliced bread. Away from work was another story. I had severe self esteem issues. It took years of work to get those two 'personalities' to merge into who I am today.

Michael shared stories with me about how his prior employer wanted to put him out to pasture three times due to health-related issues.

As an aside- one of the issues was that he fainted... ha! What a wimp! (kidding, bro!).

He refused to go to pasture.. instead he asked for another assignment until he was able to do his job properly- but he wanted his job back when he was considered OK to fly. Considering that he used to fly these things, I can see why they'd want him in tip-top shape:


Anyhoo- talking to my brother really brought a lot of things to light for me. Together, we came up with a good game plan which does NOT include me quitting my job or even working less. He understands that this would be the worst thing I could do for my psyche.

Instead, I'm going to go to our HR department to get help with how to communicate how this brain injury has affected me to my department. If it were only my manager giving me things to do, that would be one thing. I could just tell my manager; but the WHOLE department throws things over the fence to me without going through my manager (which is the way my job was set up). Somehow- some way, everyone needs to know why on one day I'm fine, but on another day I act as if half of my brain was removed. They also need to know why I say things that don't make any sense WHATSOEVER some times. I'm more concerned about how top dog perceives me, than anything.

If you're logged in, you'll find out why.....

• I'm going to start calling the bearded eye-roller "velcro man" because he won't leave my side at night. Bless his sweet, sweet heart. Last night he fell asleep while we were watching TV. I was wide awake (pain meds do that to me) and wasn't ready to go to bed (could it be because the season premiere of American Idol was on?) I told him to go to bed where he'd be more comfortable. Nope- he wanted to sleep sitting up on the couch until I was ready to go to bed. Gah- the sweetness of that man just never ends.


• I called my neurologist's office and her assistant told me that there's nothing the neurologist can do for me unless I exhibit new symptoms. I'm not noticing anything different- but then again, the weirdness didn't start up right away after the last time I bonked my head. I'll reserve judgment on whether this will cause further damage, and I'll hope for the best.


• I went to my regular doctor's office. She doesn't think my wrist is broken either- but said to wear the brace for a week or so and if it still hurts, she'll re-examine it. She told me to put heat on my neck. I told her that the ER doc specifically said NOT to put heat on my neck. She just rolled her eyes and said that he was wrong. I love it when doctors disagree with each other- don't you? I'm just glad she gave me more muscle relaxers for my neck.
  
  I'm now sporting a lavender-scented buckwheat neck wrap. It's delightful.


• My manager said that I could work from home all week instead of going into the office. I took Monday off because I was still heavily medicated and who knows what kind of work I would have turned out. Other than that, I've been churning out the work. I have to take the wrist brace off to type though. What a pain in the patoot wrist.


• The staples come out of my head on Friday. Of course, that's the day that I said I'd come into the office for meetings that I didn't want to miss. The rest of the conversation went something like this:
  

  Me: Oh- I have to go downtown on Friday, can we do this on Thursday?
  Dr.: No, that's too soon
  Me: Are you open on the weekend?
  Dr: No
  Me: OK, how about Monday then?
  Dr: No, that's too long. You could get an infection.

  
  So, Friday it is I guess. Now I need to work out the logistics of being in the office and being home by 4pm to get the staples out. The ER gave me a staple remover, saying that most dr's offices don't have one. Maybe I should just do it myself. ::KIDDING:: sorta...


• I ruined my sheep jammies that Heidi gave me. I have no idea what I was dreaming about at the time, but for some reason, I had to take off my PJ top and thought it was held together by snaps. I pulled and pulled (and remember getting very mad and frustrated that they wouldn't unsnap) until finally they came apart. The next morning, I woke up with ripped PJ's and buttons all over my bed. Hmmm.....


• Still can't turn my head much, and now that the pain from the major boo-boo's is less, other boo-boo's are starting to make their presence known. I'm a mess. I really REALLY think I'm ready for the glue factory. BER refuses to drive me there though. Maybe I'll take a taxi.
  

  Taxi driver: Where you headed Ma'am (or preferably "m'lady" since that word always cracks me up.)
  Me: Glue factory- STAT



• Thank you EVERYONE for giving me permission to not feel guilty about being incommunicado. It means the world to me that you understand that my lack of communication has nothing to do with how I feel about you. You are all so supportive, and I truly thank you for that. I am positive that I'll be back to the old me (well maybe not the old-old me, but at least the me that likes to connect with people.

....was no more hospitals, no more E.R.

Maybe I should have made an easier resolution for myself, like lose 100 lbs in 10 days. I think I could have kept that one much easier than no hospitals.

I fainted again Friday night, and was unconscious for who knows how long. I remember looking at the clock when I got up to use the bathroom- it was 2 a.m. on the dot, and when I looked at the clock after BER helped me to the living room- it was 2:40. I woke up in a pool of blood on the floor and in a lot of pain. Again, the loud thud woke up the bearded eye-roller, and I'm sure the sight of me laying in a growing puddle of blood was not a nice sight for him.

I knew that this wasn't going to be one of those "wait until morning and see how I feel" things. I simply said, "we need to go to the E.R. right now". I realize I said that I'd never go to the ER we went to last time I bonked my head, but I knew they had my records there and my neurologist is associated with that hospital.

We got in fairly quickly, actually. Maybe it was the open head wound and they didn't want me leaving a trail of blood for them to clean up.

Since I seem to have landed directly on top of my head (how? HOW did I manage to do that), it did something to my neck and right shoulder. I can't move my head more than 2 inches in any direction. Yay for muscle relaxants!

They did a CT scan on my head and neck and an x-ray on my wrist. Nothing was broken- although I don't believe that about the wrist- I believe I *DID* break something in that wrist or arm and will go have that checked again.

Today, I'm starting to show bruising on my forehead- so who knows what THATs about.

I didn't realize the gash on my head was so big. Apparently it's 4 inches long, and I'm now sporting 7 staples on top of my head. Even with pain meds via IV and the numbing shot in my head- I felt all of those staples going in. Twice, even. He first put in staples that he decided were too big, so took those out and then put in the smaller staples.

Here's a fun fact: the sound of stapling paper and stapling a head sounds exactly the same.
Here's another one: KY jelly is good for cleaning up blood-matted hair. Who knew?

So, there we have it. I hope the neurologist is wrong about the cumulative effect of a new head bonk ofter a TBI diagnosis.

I've been off this blog (and yours) because I haven't been psychologically able to communicate with anyone. I've not answered email from all of my wonderful friends (that'd be you guys), haven't picked up the phone, etc. I haven't even talked to my best friend in the whole world- Heidi, since Christmas Eve until yesterday. The guilt over all of that is worse than the guilt I was feeling about only having whiney things to say. I got tired of hearing myself whine, and I'm pretty sure everyone else is too.

I went to lunch with one of my favorite people (I love you PDB!) on Thursday and she gave me lots of good advice about giving myself permission to not feel guilty over these things and that my friends would understand. I'm trying really hard to believe that. I'm just a mess. Meh.

So, with that said, you all have been so kind to me with your uplifting email and love. It's meant the world to me- even if I haven't been up to writing back. I'm taking Monday off of work and plan to go into action on FINALLY setting up psychological intervention as well as other things I've been putting off to care for myself. Oh- and I'll call my neurologist (which, by the way, the ER doc said was the absolute BEST neurologist he's ever worked with), to see what new adventures await me.

The bearded eye-roller, bless his sweet soul, is now on high alert when we're in bed. The minute I get up to go to the bathroom, he's up too and walks me to wherever I need to go. He said that he's never going to let me go anywhere during the middle of the night without him. He's so sweet to me and I hate putting him through that.

I truly am considering a helmet. heh.

So, yeah- you know that two steps forward and one step back saying? In my case- it was one step forward and three steps back.

I think going into the office two days in a row, on top of over-doing it at Christmas set me back quite a bit. I came home Thursday night and had a major meltdown and was back to jerking around and lots of confusion.

I was a pitiful mess Thursday night and told the bearded eye-roller that I didn't want to do 'this' any more. I asked him to leave me alone in a dark room until the klonopin took effect. After I finally settled down, we had a very long talk that night with him telling me that I needed to accept that this has happened and understand that this may never go away. I thought I'd accepted it- I really did. But all it took was a taste of a few almost normal days followed by going backward for me to go into a deep dark hole. This dark hole is a place that I don't like to visit because it feels like there isn't even a remote possibility that I'll see light again. That scares me.

I can't stop apologizing to BER about what I'm putting him through. I'm not being mean or grouchy or anything like that- I'm just 'blah' and lifeless. I'd rather stare at the floor than have a conversation or watch TV. I'm not sure if I believe BER when he tells me that this is way harder on me than it is on him. I wouldn't want to be around the 'new' me very much, why would he? To be the 'old' me requires a lot of energy and pretending. I'm pretty good at it, and can pull the 'old' me out in social situations- but I pay for it for days.

I've had two days of staring at walls, and am working on day three. I've been sleeping for 12-13 hours and having naps during the day. That has helped with the jerking, thankfully, but isn't doing much for my self-esteem.

I'm having serious short-term memory problems right now. I came downstairs this morning and saw that my laundry was folded. I don't remember doing it- and as I thought about it- I don't remember most of anything that happened last night. I thanked BER for doing it for me, and he said that he didn't do it. I did it. That's a little freaky to me.

Of course, being the OCD person that I am, I was glad that I had folded laundry and a clean kitchen even if I don't remember doing it.

I've learned to write myself email at work to remember to do things. I'm now doing it at home as well. I wish I'd done that on Christmas Eve, because I had lots of things planned and forgot to do them even though it was important to me. I just completely forgot. I forgot to take pictures, and I forgot to have our memory sharing time.

I don't like the 'new' me, one little bit. I want the 'old' me back. I need to get my head around this (no pun intended). I need some tools, and I need some patience (something I was NOT born with as we all know). I also need to find new ways of feeling self-worth. The things that made me feel valuable are diminished or come and go- which is almost worse because I feel like I'm being taunted.

I think I'm going to go into therapy to help me deal with this. Especially if this is permanent. My neurologist seems to think that it is, so I should just accept that and learn to live with it. By learning to live with it- I don't mean I'm going to give up. It just means that I need to lower my expectations of myself. Until I accept this fully and learn to live with it, I'm going to continue to cycle in and out of this dark hole. I'm ready to admit that I can't do this on my own, so I think professional help would be a good start.

I'm sure y'all have noticed that I haven't been by anyone's blogs and have been terrible about answering email. Just so you know- I'm not ignoring just one of you- I'm ignoring the lot of you (tee hee). Please don't take it personally. I just don't have the energy. In that light, I don't know if I'll be writing here for a while, so I'll make y'all a deal. You can assume that I'm OK unless you hear otherwise because Heidi does have the ability to write blog entries here. There's NO reason to think that anything bad is going to happen, but I know what a bunch of worriers you are (xoxoxo).

I'm sure Pollyanna will come back, she always does. She's annoying like that.