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Setbacks, more setbacks

Later this morning they are going to wheel me into surgery.  Another tumor to remove, another setback in everything that is going on.  Last night I tried to talk to someone, but couldn't find the courage to pick up the phone.  I've become so isolated from others that it almost feels as if I have died already.  So much loss this past 12 months, now I may be next.  I told the therapist assigned me that I didn't care about the outcome anymore.  One of the nurses actually left the room because she was in tears.

I wish the phone would ring.  Even though I hate the question "How do you feel?", not hearing it is worse.

Why today?

Today has been hard and it's barely begun.  My brain is so wrapped up in things it can't fix, things that are such a distraction that I can no longer function today.  I've walked away from the table, tried to change my surroundings, nothing is working.

Why can't I get the need to write to a person who has died out of my head.  It's been a year and yet I still feeling like my daughter can read them, see them, do something about the feelings I have.  I just want to curl up on the couh and shut down for the rest of time.  I want to sit on that same couch and just hold my daughter's hand, listen to her breath.  Anything that would help me with that connection.

Today for some reason is going to be a bad day.  I don't know what triggered it, but I do know that I am afraid of it.

Memorial service

Yesterday was the memorial for my daughter.  It has been too long in coming, a result of not speaking with her mother for months.  Moving forward in some aspects of my life, trying to come to terms with the approaching Holiday garbage; yet I couldn't even pick up the phone to let her know what others had planned.  I hate the sounds of Christmas this year.  Hate the commercials, loath the songs about little boys and girls doing whatever.  It's like a knife every time.

But yesterday I stood in a church in front of people who never knew my daughter, but wanted to do something for her.  Acknowledge the life she might have had, the person she could have been.  For one day, or at the very least a few hours; I was able to cope with it all.  Then I walked back to my car, and cried.

More Hospital Time

Last friday I was admitted to the ER because my mental state had been altered due to a complication arising from previous surgery.  Unable to communicate with anyone, I found myself trapped in my body aware of people but silent.  It's weird how when you were already depressed and isolated, you get to experience that in an even greater form.  Tubes coming out of me, listening to my parents argue about what the best thing to do; all because someone didn't realize I was physcially sick and thought it was totally my mental state that had shut me down.

Thank god for some doctor who ran the right series of tests.  A blood clot had broken off and was interrupting the flow of blood and left me all sorts of loopy.  I know I'm being treated for depression, but that didn't mean you automatically assume that was the root cause!  Throw in the abnormal blood test results and no wonder I don't know what was going on around me.  I was being poisoned by my own body.

4 1/2 days in the hospital.  3 of those unable to communicate with anyone.  Talk about being depressed, it made it worse.  By the time I awoke from the drugs they gave me, I was crying like a child.  Asking for a person who wasn't going to show up, and that only made my isolation complete.

I had to call my ex and let her know that it was a mistake on my part for her to still be named as the point person for any medical treatment.  In the couple of months since we last spoke, I have held out a silly dream of her coming home.  Held out hope when I was feeling hopeless.  Now I only feel guilt, like a failure for not being stronger, angry with myself for needing her to be there when I knew she wouldn't be.

Welcome back waves of anxiety, I have been expecting you...


I found out that the person I told about my surgery passed on the info to others.  The end result was nothing, not a call, not a text, not an email and I'm not sure how to feel about that.  I reached out the best I could under what have become very trying circumstances and I still am alone.  What does that say about me?  Or them?  Just a simple, hey thinking about you would have been enough.  Must have been an interesting conversation amongst them.  Too bad no one thought to pick up the phone!

There are times when I wished I had just died on the table.  It would have taken a serious medical mishap for that to take place, even my therapist has said it's natural to think it.  But then why do I continue to think it would have been best.  When you don't talk to anyone, see anyone, you might as well be gone in a more permanent solution.  It's all so confusing.  The ex used to make this all better, even just by telling me I was acting stupidly.  I miss that.

Well, here's to hoping the crap eating at my body wins!

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