faevii: (broken spear)
I ... I just can't anymore. The last few days have been nothing but an endless struggle against tiredness. Either I forced myself out of bed early and felt like crap all day or I overslept until noon and also felt like crap all day. Then at night I either went to bed early and couldn't sleep yet (on the days when I'd overslept) or I did sleep but in the next morning I still didn't feel like I'd slept enough. Sometimes I also stayed up a little too late, which meant that by the time I finally got ready for bed, I felt so terrible that the thought of setting an alarm made me want to cry.

I'm pretty sure that this is only a side-effect of my meds rather than an unexpected depressive phase or anything. At the hospital it was less noticeable because I often went to bed extremely early out of boredom or because my roommate wanted to sleep, but it was still a problem. We were woken up at seven every morning and for several weeks I never managed to actually get out of bed until a quarter past eight, when a nurse made the rounds again to remind us that it was time for the first "event" of the day - a sort of quick little ... gathering ... where they informed us of changes in the day's schedule and such. It was quite an accomplishment if I so much as managed to brush my teeth before this! >.<

Near the end I had advanced so far that I could brush my teeth and do my hair, without even needing to hurry. Breakfast was still not an option, but I'd made progress.

Why can't I at least get back to that now? I suppose I'd have to go to bed at 8:45 for it to work, or something. That's ridiculous. I mean, I could also decide that 9 am is an acceptable time to set my alarm to, but then what if I get a doctor's appointment at 7:30? I'd have trouble falling asleep early enough for that because I wouldn't be used to it anymore. And the therapist I am currently trying to ask if she's taking new patients only accepts phone calls between 7 and 8 in the morning on Mondays and Wednesdays. This week I already missed both opportunities. I need to get up early ...

ARGH.
faevii: "I take my noodles very seriously" (srs bizness)
On the whole, my first week alone was amazing. The floor in the hall wasn't done yet, there was no light in the kitchen and all I had to cook with was a single pot, but it was great. Thanks to a number of factors such as less allergens in the air, a better mattress and practically no stress whatsoever (to only name a few), I slept better and had much more energy. I could concentrate better and going outside was suddenly not a problem anymore. Showering was easy. I never got bored. BASICALLY IT WAS AWESOME OKAY. :D

My wrists became terribly dry because I wasn't used to doing the dishes by hand and my feet hurt because I wasn't used to not wearing shoes inside, but eventually I adapted. I visited Timo every single day and probably played with him more than when we were still living together. I enjoyed being able to do whatever I wanted whenever I felt like it, and not having to worry about things being Potentially Dirty because I knew what was clean and what wasn't. Since I didn't have much money left after buying a vacuum cleaner and such, I even discovered that €15 could get me through an entire week if I was careful.

Then I suddenly couldn't eat wheat anymore.

...

Yeah. I actually laughed, you know. I don't know why, but my first reaction was this kind of hysterical amusement. Of course that would happen right after I'd finally managed to get the hang of living with lactose intolerance. Of course that would happen while I was basically broke and thought I'd figured out how to survive on €15 a week. WHEN ELSE. GOODBYE, CHEAP BREAD.

While I was still unsure what was going on, there was a day on which I cried for hours and hours, mostly due to the debilitating stomach cramps but also because I was scared. And possibly mourning noodles, while fervently hoping it was something else. It wasn't. When I finally stopped eating anything of the kind, my stomach felt better immediately and the rest of my body within two or three days. That could hardly be a coincidence.

I have since been tested for Celiac Disease (gluten intolerance), but either that's not it or the doctor made a mistake. Like, I don't know, maybe forgetting to tell me that I still needed to be eating the stuff for it to work. I have yet to ask him, since my next appointment is not until two weeks from now because I thought I'd also have my lactose intolerance officially confirmed while I was at it, and something went wrong with that test. >_<

Scraping the money together that I suddenly needed to feed myself for the rest of the month wasn't easy, but fortunately I had help. I also ate a lot of rice, and I was extremely grateful for all the positive effects from moving out that I still felt. Without them I would have been screwed.

(Ironic icon choice is ironic.)
faevii: (raised eyebrow)
I always find it oddly comforting that many of the books on my doctor's shelf are in English. I realise that being able to read those is probably expected of medical students these days, so it's really nothing special, but ... IDK. I just like seeing them there.

Today I noticed that one of them has the rather dramatic-sounding title The Headaches. Hee. Could be a band name ... or a bad movie. Actually, I just googled that and discovered that there is a band called The Headaches on Myspace. They're German. XD

I finally brought up my hair loss issue, to which he unsurprisingly said that I'll need to have blood drawn. Tomorrow I already have a different appointment (busy week), but I'll see if I can do it the day after that. I also mentioned the spontaneous bouts of stomach pain that I've been getting with increasing frequency lately, which he'll look into once we've got the results of the blood test.

The main reason why I was there, though (yeah, never mind the crippling pain and hair loss), was that I had to pick up a referral and a copy of the report that the hospital I was in last year sent to him. Tomorrow's appointment is with a new psychiatrist and I needed those for that. For some reason I keep getting the impression that he doesn't want me to see that report - the first time I asked for it (months ago, before an appointment that I cancelled), he waved me off and said he could just fax it there himself, and today (when there was a problem with his fax machine) he gave it to me in a closed envelope. Well, tough shit. I know I have a right to read my own medical documents, so I just opened the freaking thing.

It was very ... illuminating. I think I'm finally beginning to understand why people keep misdiagnosing me when it comes to mental health. It's not what I say, it's body language and stuff like that. The report was full of sentences like "This is how she moved, this is how she spoke and this is HOW I PERSONALLY THINK SHE MUST HAVE FELT though she never said anything to that effect." e_e

It all makes sense now! No wonder their assessments never seem to fit; everyone reads me wrong. Even Daniel, who knows me very well and is rather observant, doesn't always get it right. So I guess I'll have to make an effort to constantly point out my thoughts and feelings to avoid misunderstandings in the future? :S

Part of it is physical, too. When I'm in pain, I often just ... freeze. Obviously that'll make people who don't know that I'm in pain think I'm scared or apathetic. And when I'm tired or exhausted ... well, of course I don't move much, either. Yes, I can see how this might cause me to appear depressed while I'm not. Gah.

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Lin

September 2013

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