Another mediocre visit to the local emergency room has passed. While my body does not feel back to its status quo, I find today my mind is more bothered than anything by nagging problems. (I can't be too mad over a lackluster hospital visit because they really pulled out all the stops for me last time when my vision was in danger.) I knew awhile back that my disability case was strewn with hidden agendas and omissions. It felt however that that was behind me until recently. A phone call came in today to remind me that my CDR was in fact not done processing. So the threat of becoming homeless and having my medical care taken away is being strung over my head again.
So adding the resentment I feel over my stroke being hidden from me, along with now a myocardial infarct around 2 years later-- to the being pushed out of a hospital without care. Well I was already suffering a depressive episode from bodily decline, this may just double down. What annoys me about my review is that it wasn't until I discovered the information regarding my stroke that I confirmed I was approved for disability under a psychiatric condition. This means for ten years now I've either flew mostly under the radar or been viewed as non-compliant. People who are non-compliant are probably among the 3-15% that get kicked out of the program. I cannot afford that to be me as I know from testing the waters in hopes of using ticket to work that my body always breaks down after as little as a week.
Recently, I've given up two of my few remaining hobbies. Gardening and genealogy, though to be fair most of my genealogy work is already done anyway. After moving my plant plot to the back corner though last year I had a bad dizzy spell that felt far too much like a sudden stroke it scared me being that far from the house. It's ridiculous because its just the backyard but my lot is a quarter acre. The changing weather in Michigan also screwed up the season start and stop times. So plants aren't doing as well as they should. Even the ecology of are yard is changing. I can't keep up with weeding and we are reaching the peak of needing real laborious repairs. That's the bad things about houses eventually you have to sink big money in.
I was at the very least able to get the shower walls redone but it still needs paint and the caulk I used is failing. Yet another thing to make one depressed. At the moment, I only have the energy for one task a day and I cannot explain the sleepiness. My night terrors have been gone for awhile at least but my sleep quality since my sudden biliary problem (cause of my er visit) has been very poor. The doctor who said she was in charge of my pancreas is suddenly playing hot potato now that there is a problem and my gp has so much to worry about already. He doesn't need to see me months early. Makes one a bit nihilistic that it would be fine if everything just disappeared like a switch turning off.
From my childhood and twenties experience, I don't trust a psychiatrist to do right by me and diagnose correctly. From my neuro and post-stroke care, I know most drugs don't work correctly on me. From my random encounters in the er-wild, I know there is maybe one or two safe medicines for me. I would be so exhausted though seeing a therapist once a month. Lord I pace my doctor appointments out months from each other. Having a month with two events in a row is awful. This is however what I am going to have to do. I need a paper trail, I have to manage my case again, which may mean ressurecting the giant medical binder. I've made word documents before of timelines and notes-- organizing used to be fun before someone threw it back in my face.
If I wasn't a bleeding heart, maybe I wouldn't be so susceptible to the "you don't deserve it" crowd.
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