I have not been able to figure out what is going on with me lately. I cannot write, or concentrate, or work. I start wonderful pieces of writing and then lose interest and decide to take a nap.
I got off track after successfully getting on track a few weeks ago when I deviated from being an infrastructure inducing dynamo to do taxes. Then I worked on some non-writing projects and got sidetracked. In the middle of March I began to have a gut ache, pain, and felt like my digestive system had stopped dead in its tracks. After three days of fairly intense pain I went to the doctor at Hubby’s insistence and then had to go for an MRI with contrast as well as have a full blood workup.
I was scared shitless for a bit as one brother died at age 55, younger than I am. A second brother died at age 59. I try to be in touch with my body and usually on top of what is going on with it. This blind-sided me.
I have been told that I have diverticulitis even though I had a colonoscopy a few years ago, after turning 50 just like the health guidelines suggest to do, and everything looked good. No need of a followup for 10 years. Damn. So I was given the classic treatment of Cipro and an another antibiotic that kills anaerobic bacteria.
The other thing they found was that my fatty liver that they told me had gotten better has not. My liver is enlarged. And over the course of being on the antibiotics a dull occasional pain in my mid-right back has gotten progressively worse.
So I’m seeing the doctor again.
I do not likemedical appointments. My mother exhibited behavior that had all the hallmarks of Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy. Until I was 14 I played along with her and pretended to be ill. Actually being ill makes me depressed. I always think, deep down inside, that I am faking or exaggerating when I am ill, because of this early history.
Right now, I feel terrible, I am depressed, and am spending a lot of time blaming myself for becoming ill. But I am forcing myself to write again, every day, this month to get back in the saddleso to speak.
I am doing the A to Z Challenge for April and NaBloPoMo. I will conquer this abject attitude/health.
What am I thinking? First, ((((((((Nancy)))))))). I am so sorry you are hurting and scared and depressed. I hate medical appointments too. And am going for all kinds of blood work and mammos and untrasounds and xrays this very morning.
I am thinking you might want to consider being as gentle with yourself as you would be if someone you loved had diverticulitis and an enlarged liver. I recommend Thich Nhat Hanh’s smiling meditations, sitting in the sunshine. And I recommend you send oceans of loving vibrations to your pain. (And I will take my own advice, lol).
I support you writing creatively every day, but not giving yourself a hard time when you don’t feel like it. You are healing your body temple, which allows you to share this life with us, and you many need extra REST. And yes, you WILL conquer this whatever-it-is. Please stay in touch so we (your friends) can send lotsa love.
Many hugs,
Gerry
Gerry, First, thank you. Hugs back at you. It was difficult to decide to write this, but I feel that in order talk about, or write about, what MSBP abuse survivors experience throughout life, I need to be honest, and provide a chronicle of sorts even if what I have to say isn’t profound or inspirational. I am trying to be gentle with myself. I will try harder.