Regression

As I posted the last blog last night, I became scared, anxious, doubtful, and regressed to my usual state of uncertainty. Should I continue this new adventure? I spent the night in the bathroom puking, possibly due to my three white claws and mussels (don’t think so); however, my anxiety symptoms were in full force since this is new to me and I always think I am going to fail. When did these symptoms start? When I was a young kid. Symptoms: stomach pain, no appetite, and nausea. As I am writing this, I remember a day when my stomach hurt so badly I could not pry myself off the tile floor. I want to say I was 10 years young. Usually with that severe pain, appendicitis is what we are programmed to think. Mental illness was shunned.

I went to the clinic in West Yellowstone (where I grew up if you did not know.) The medical professional at the time requested an ambulance to Bozeman due to the fact they also thought it might be appendicitis. Do you think it was because my mom mentioned it, or did they just want to appease her wishes? Or, did they not want to bring up the mental diagnosis curse? Were they properly educated about these symptoms in school at that period in time? Before this event, I had always experienced stomach pain, no appetite, and ongoing uncertainty around me. So, the ambulance showed up and the volunteers of West Yellowstone took me to Bozeman. One individual who accompanied me was a family friend and I played basketball with his daughter. When I saw him I instantly felt better. He was laid back and made me feel comfortable, as I had always enjoyed his calm demeanor, wit, and his smile. Having him by my side alleviated the pain. It is amazing what the brain can do when you are enveloped by a person who remains calm, collected, and witty.

We arrived in Bozeman and we entered into the ER and the MD finished his assessment and did not find anything alarming. His recommendation was to see a dietician for my low weight due to my ongoing non-existent appetite. After all was said and done that day, I felt so guilty that I wasted my Dad’s hard earned money that my stomach started hurting again. Did I keep it to myself? You bet I did. I felt like the whole situation could have been avoided and I didn’t think of the consequences or the possible hardship on my parents. I never wanted to waste money on anything, especially myself.

Two summers ago I had fell sick, coughing up really nasty stuff. (I will spare you the details.) I didn’t want to go to the hospital. Reason one-nurses are the worst patients. Reason two-if nothing was wrong, what a waste of money. Three-I knew everyone there and they would see my medication history and I would look like a total failure. I had to be admitted, I had pneumonia. My friend who talked me into going and gave me a ride, saved me from worsening complications. You know who you are. Thank you. She stayed with me and made me feel safe. The night hospitalist that came in that ER room to admit me knew me very well. His first question he asked…”You have anxiety and depression?” “Brooke, I would have never known.” I replied, “I am a good actor.” Second question…”Do you want to be a full code or DNR?” I replied, “DNR.” My friend looked at me and said, “Oh hell no.” So, she talked me into full code status. That meant the world to me that day because I felt loved by her, just like I did with my West Yellowstone medical volunteer. (Three members of this blog are related to that individual, continuation of ongoing support.)